#and immediately made me fucking insane so it has to go into everyone's brains now <3
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2x03 | 6x03
#i rewatched school hard the other day and this LEAPT out at me#and immediately made me fucking insane so it has to go into everyone's brains now <3#theres no way this hasnt done before because this is SOOOO......#one thing about me is that i will find the spuffy parallels in everything and especially tie EVERYTHING to the after life speech#there's a reason my tag for them is#otp: every night i save you#ch: spike#ch: buffy summers#btvs#**#*gif#thank god tumblr expanded the images limit#also i suddenly know how to make gifs now lmao the improvement between this and my sets from last year...#proud of me <3#buffy the vampire slayer#btvsedit#spuffy#spuffygifs#btvsdaily#slayerdaily
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[ More task force 141 × OFC! reader headcanons] [pt2]
A/N: thank yall so much for all the love on the last hcs!! I hope these live up to yalls expectations <3 please tell me which ones are yalls favorites <3!!!
CW: She/her pronouns, Codename is Teddy, Simping, crude humor, Age gaps, cursing, British slander (if I miss anything, let me know!)
If you dye your hair, Ghost helps you dye it when y'all go on extended leave. The military doesn't allow unnatural colors so when you have a few weeks to a couple of months, he'll be the one to ask. "Cm'ere, I got the bleach already."
The guys like to go with her when/if she gets tattooed. Do they know what she's getting inked? Nope, but they like to keep her company and will go get her food if needed.
Teddy vocal stims,, alot. She has picked up on "Fuckin' hell" and it has yet to leave her brain and Ghost just stares in amusement. You can hear her echo it back to them once he says it on a mission.
Teddy is her codename but her nicknames vary from who's talking about her!
Ghost: Ted, Teds, Sweetheart, Runt
Soap: Bonnie, Rascal, Barra, Lass
Price: Rookie, Dear
Gaz: Love, Darling, Hun
They get on her ASS for being an American. They will poke fun at her every fucking chance esp if she speaks in slang.
Price shakes his head and tries to teach her the "proper" way of speaking but all she does is mock the accent. He has since given up.
The first time they see her off duty, it's shock. She looks so different when she's not in uniform, (if you have it: dyed hair, makeup) her normal civilian clothes. Soap is almost convinced it's not Teddy until she smacks him upside the head and calls him an asshole.
Being the first one to see Ghosts face because you're having a breakdown about all the murder and bullshit you've gone through, crying profusely and no one knows how to help bc everyone just shoves it down and represses it.
He trusts you, he knows he does so it doesn't take him much to take you into a secluded room and expose himself. He will say that seeing you silently stare up at him with awe made his feelings grow for you. He will not, but his heart definitely would.
Soap actively teaching you how to curse in Gaelic bc he thinks it's funny with your accent. Too bad you can barely understand when he tries teaching you so you're just kinda staring at him dead eyed.
Soap plays with your hair, alot. It soothes him to run his fingers through it or simply to yank it bc he's a little dickhead. He's the kind of person who'd let your hair routine and learn how to help you take care of it.
Ghost and Price straight up rustle your hair and thinks it's funny when you shove their hand away and get all huffy lmfao.
HELPING SOAP SHAVE HIS MOHAWK, there's no barber on base so you're the next best thing he has. Many of the team have walked in with Soap sitting between your legs bc he's way too fucking tall for you to cut his hair comfortably. Ghost walking in with you holding a razor to Soap's neck and just turning around and walking out immediately.
Price has given you a cigar to smoke, he knows for a damn fact you cannot handle it and laughs his ass off when you sputter. Top 10 favorite moments of his.
Gaz likes to give you British foods to try, he knows for a damn fact you will not like it.
"C'mon love, just one bite?" "I am not fucking eating beans on toast, you're insane." "It's a good meal!"
He gets so fucking mad when yall go to Las Almas and you devour the food there. Literally pouts bc he sees you with Alejandro and Rudy eating food and laughing together.
You play video games alot when on leave, please imagine trying to teach Ghost on the newer games that are out now. You make fun of him calling him an old man but he actually fucking wins potg/apex most of the time and looks at you smug as hell.
No one knows why you're called Teddy, so they all make up their own stories but you neither confirm nor deny. Soap says it's bc you're cuddly and cute like a teddy bear while Ghost says its bc you can maim someone like one. Duality of man.
Speaking of cuddling, it's not uncommon to have to huddle for warmth on missions. They all manhandle you to them and they all slightly do it differently.
Ghost sits you front to front with your chests touching While he sits up, arms around your waist with him playing with his knife, staring past your head and at the wall.
Price presses you into his side, a arm wrapped around your shoulders as he tells you stories about missions gone wrong, the smell of cigar smoke flooding your senses.
Soap also sits you on his lap with your back against his front while he buries his face in your hair. He tells you stories about his childhood and growing up with his mom, he wants yall to meet one day.
Gaz is usually the best prepared and has either a sleeping bag or a blanket, so he wraps it around yall making sure you're more covered than he is and sits close, yalls legs intertwined.
They worry so fucking much about you, you're young and while they have come to love and appreciate you, they can't help but wish you were anywhere else but here risking your life.
"You're too young to be here Kid." "And you weren't?" Ghost has to swallow down how much he wants to scream that he just wants you safe but he knows that's not his place, he isn't your boyfriend or husband.
Alejandro has doubts when everything goes to shit if they can trust you, since he hadn't seen much of you like he had with Ghost and Soap. But then he sees the way they speak about you and how these two burly strong men get a tender look in their eyes. He finds it funny but also feels great respect to you. It is not easy to get task force 141 to care so much about a new member but hey, you did it.
Alejandro takes you out dancing and drinking when you go back to visit Las Almas. He knows how to dance so fucking well and it's always a good time. He always has his hands on your waist and always makes sure you're okay with it. Perfect gentleman 10/10
Now Graves thinks that you're just some stupid kid but realizes quickly that while you can fight your own battles, you never need to. Just one look at Ghost staring daggers into his forehead is enough for him to swallow his tongue less it gets cut out.
Laswell treats you like her own kid, especially when she finds out if you have a bad home life. She always makes sure you're stocked up on necessaties at the base and invites you for lunch along with her wife often. She is the first one you call when you have anything personal to speak of and she is the mother figure you have while on missions.
Taglist <3 (If you'd like to be tagged in future works, please comment under my rules that are pinned to my blog!)
@tamayakii @teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel @marsbar127xx
#ghost <3#soap <3#price <3#call of duty#gaz <3#call of duty x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#soap x reader#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#john price x reader#john soap mactavish#john price#john mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#alejandro <3#laswell <3#kate laswell#alejandro vargas#graves :/#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#cod x reader#headcanons#female reader#kayla writes <3
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stupid // stan uris smut
a/n: hey everyone! it's been so long since i've posted and a lot of people have been sending me requests but since my first and only fic i've uploaded on here has gained 1,000 notes i thought i'd gift you guys this fic as a thank you. i'm gonna try and upload a lot more now because i appreciate so much the love my writing gets fr thank you guys so much. hope you enjoy and as always, reblogging really helps me out so if u enjoy, pls don't hesitate!
WARNINGS: dom!stan, submissive!bratty!reader, slight choking, mention of drugs (if you squint) SMUT, majorly NSFW minors please dni, thank you!
WORD COUNT: OVER 6K
SUMMARY: Your parents best friends' son. The picture perfect grade A student of the perfect suburban family. And a cocky douchebag. You hated him. But, since you both got into the same college, Stan has been making it clear that he definitely does not hate you...
Stanley. Even his name irked you. I mean, who in their right mind births a beautiful baby boy and names him Stanley. What a stupid name. It fits him though, that’s for sure. Stupid Stan with his stupid family and his stupid friends and his stupid studying. He was just so stupid that you wanted to bash his brains in any time he so much as breathed around your presence.
Of course, he hadn’t necessarily done anything to warrant your intense hatred towards him. He just irritated you. You were Jewish too so you’d always see each other at the Synagogue and your parents were enamoured by Stan’s stupidness. They saw it as ‘perfection’ instead though. They were always bothering you about how you should ‘aim to be more like Stan’ or ‘Stan’s parents told me he got an A in this class. So why are you getting a D?’ He drove you insane. You weren’t Stan, you weren’t stupid like Stan so why couldn’t your parents just love you for you instead of comparing you to that stupid, stupid boy.
Due to your parents being very good friends with Stan’s family, you saw each other a lot more than you’d like. And every time you were there you took every opportunity to be nasty to Stan just to wear off some steam. But that made it even worse. It wouldn’t matter if he was a dick to you too. But no. He’s NICE to you. And you know he’s doing it on purpose to get on your nerves because every time he compliments your hair and sees you glaring knives into his eyes, he does a subtle smirk to himself as if he’s fucking won this silly little game you play. He knows he’s driving you insane and he’s proud of himself for it. What a fucking douche.
It had always been this way. Stan irritates you, you’re a bitch to Stan, Stan eats it up, Stan irritates you, blah, blah, blah. It was an endless cycle of hate.
However, something had flipped in Stan the summer before you both left for college. Luckily enough, you’d both managed to get into the exact same ivy league as each other so you would be stuck with Stan for the next four years. When you found out you immediately wanted to bash your head into a wall repeatedly until you woke up from this absolute nightmare that was Stanley Uris.
The news that you had both gotten into an ivy league warranted a celebratory party for the both of you. The idea from your lovely mother, of course, and at said party, Stan was acting a lot stranger than normal. So strange to the point where you were currently hiding in the bathroom with your back against the door breathing heavily as if he was chasing after you and about to knock the door down with an axe.
It started in the garden. You wore a white summer dress with tiny yellow flowers scattered among it. Stan was looking very punchable in cream khakis and a navy polo. Unbuttoned, of course, because he could never look TOO tidy. You stood by the refreshments, sipping a virgin pina colada when Stan strutted his way over with a teasing grin on his face, ready to ruin your relaxed mood.
‘So, I guess we’re going to college together. It seems you really can’t escape me, can you, y/n?’ He leaned against the table next to you, taking a sip from his beer. You glared up at him, already infuriated by the fact that he was leaning down with you stood up straight next to him and he was still taller than you.
‘Oh please, Stanley, don’t pretend to be so happy about this when we both know you are just as excited about this as me.’
He gasped in mock surprise before laughing softly at the frown on your face, ‘Oh, come on, princess, you know you love me. I guarantee that you would miss this adorable face as soon as you knew you couldn’t see me anymore.’
He smiled at you gently before moving his sunglasses up to rest on his curls and taking a sip of beer.
You moved to stand in front of him, making a move to leave the refreshments and flee to your room (or anywhere away from Stan). ‘Bite me, Uris.’
‘If you insist, princess.’ He smirked at you and folded his arms over his chest, his muscles straining under his polo.
Your eyes widened slightly, shock evident on your face at his words. He had always been overly saccharine with you but he had never flirted with you so boldly. Shaking yourself out of your daze, you scoffed before walking off with your pina colada into your kitchen for some snacks.
5 minutes later, you were still stood in front of your fridge, supposedly searching for food but instead, you found yourself staring off into space. You could not scratch that smug image of Stan out of your brain, his words engraving themselves into your memory, messing with your mind.
Worst of all, you found yourself repeatedly wondering why you liked what he had said to you. Pulling yourself together, you closed the fridge door but immediately jumped as you saw Stan standing right where the fridge door had been resting.
‘You look a little lost, princess, is everything okay?’ He was stood so close to you that your chests were half an inch away from touching. You gazed into his eyes for half a second before realising what you were doing and coughed before putting some distance between the two of you.
‘Uh-uhm, I’m fine thank you, Stanley. Just couldn’t find what I was craving.’
He nodded his head understandingly before taking a step forward so you were nearly chest to chest once again. ‘What exactly are you craving, y/n?’
He hadn’t meant to sound so enticing, or maybe he had, but the way he said that with his gravelly voice and his tiny smirk made your thighs involuntarily clench together.
‘E-erm, just some guacamole dip. My mom always hides it from me though because she knows I’ll eat it all before the other guests can have any.’ You fiddled with the hem of your dress, avoiding eye contact with the boy in front of you. What had gotten into you, why was he making your confidence dissipate so easily and why were you suddenly acting like a nervous school-girl?
Stan’s eyebrows furrowed before an evil look took over his features. He was planning something, you could tell. And you didn’t like it.
‘Oh, you mean.. this guacamole? The one on top of the fridge? That I can reach? But you can’t?’
Your eyes trailed along his veiny, muscular forearm before they met his slender, mocking hand where you found it gesturing towards... of course: the dip.
Frustration filled you head to toe as you realised that Stan, once again, had the upper hand. Your jaw ticked as your eyes finally met Stan’s cocky, patronising eyes and you had to resist the urge to make those smug, brown orbs black and blue.
‘It seems that you have something you need to ask me, darling. Because, let’s face it, we’re not gonna have a stare-off all day in front of this fridge. So, let’s hear it: “Oh, please, Stanley. I need you to get me that dip off the top of the fridge because I was born with incompetent height and I can’t do it without you, Stanley.”’
You crossed your arms over your chest as you listened, painfully, to Stan mock you with such arrogance you found it hard to resist whacking him with a frying pan. However, to Stan’s surprise, before he had the chance to continue making fun of you, there was no one standing in front of him anymore.
Where had you gone? he thought. That’s unlike you, to admit defeat so easily. Where was your usual snarky bite back, attacking him on his ‘unusually long legs’?
But before he could get too worried, there you were. Returning into the kitchen to fight back to Stan.... with a chair.
Wordless and emotionless, you put the chair down in front of the fridge, stood on its seat and grabbed the dip, finally retreating from the kitchen, not before throwing Stan a victorious wink before you disappeared around the corner.
Truth be told, you had no idea how to respond to Stan’s unusual behaviour so instead of arguing back like you would normally do, your mind blanked of insults completely and you did the next best thing that you could think of: beat him at his own game.
It was obvious that something about Stan had changed since the last time you had spoken and Stan seemed to think he was one step ahead of you. What stupid Stan didn’t know was that you were nowhere near as Stupid as him and knew that the only way to irritate him like you used to was to give him a taste of his own medicine.
Sure, you weren’t exactly completely against the idea of flirting with Stan for fun. He was obviously a good-looking guy; you knew because he would never let you forget it. And you would never pass up the opportunity to get a hot guy flustered.
This was how Stan wanted to play? Fine. He’d better prepare to lose.
It had been two weeks since this little game you and Stan were playing had begun and you couldn’t hold out much longer. The tension between the two of you had sky-rocketed and even the slightest twitch of a smirk in the corner of Stan’s mouth had your panties pooling with desire.
You had an inkling that Stan was in the same boat as you were as your lingering caresses on his arm or leg when laughing with him and his family seemed to make him blush much easier than before.
The point of why you were doing all of this was still vaguely swimming around in the back of your mind: do not be the first to give into your temptations. Don’t sleep with Stan.
However, with Stan so perfectly positioned behind you so your butt met his bulge as he leaned over your petite frame to reach for a glass, you had to take deep breaths to remind yourself once again: don’t sleep with Stan.
You gulped and took a deep breath of relief once he removed himself from his position behind you to lean on the counter next to you. His gaze burned into the side of your face and you met his eyes briefly just to find him with a cocky smirk plastered on him.
Your blood boiled (with rage or desire, you didn’t know) but you looked away without giving even the slightest of a reaction. You could never let him know how much his actions affected you.
It was that dreaded time of the week when you go over to the Uris family’s house for dinner and after eating a delicious meal cooked by Mrs Uris you did the routine of standing in the kitchen and drinking an iced tea with Stan whilst the adults got drunk in the living room.
Usually, you and Stan would bicker pointlessly during this time of the evening, but tonight it was completely silent between the two of you with only lingering gazes and glares thrown from one to the other. The tension could be cut with a butter knife.
However, your torment was put on pause as, suddenly, Mrs Uris appeared at the kitchen door. ‘Hello sweeties,’ she hiccoughed slightly, clearly tipsy. ‘I know that the kitchen is very beautiful but you are welcome to go up to Stan’s room if you want. Stan certainly won’t mind a beautiful girl like you to be up in his room, y/n.’ She winked as you blushed and Stan coughed out an embarrassed ‘Mom!’.
She then made her departure, giggling to herself softly as she went. Stan then coughed to get your attention and gestured with a jerk of his head to the direction of his room, indirectly asking if you wanted to take up his mother on her offer. You shrugged before making your way up the stairs to Stan’s room.
Stan’s room. What a place to behold. You hadn’t been up there since you were about 12 and had to work with Stan on a class project. It had changed a lot since then. Posters of bands that Stan listened to were plastered all over the walls and clothes were scattered all over the floor, and let’s not forget to mention the faint aroma of marijuana.
Stan manoeuvred you out of the doorway, his fingers gracing your waist ever so slightly with his bulge pressed against your lower back as he shimmied past you.
He jumped on his bed, his arms and legs in a starfish position on either side of him, and closed his eyes with a big sigh.
You carefully sat yourself down next to him on the bed, feeling too hesitant to lie yourself down next to him. He leaned up against the bed frame with his hands behind his head as he studied your appearance precariously as ever.
‘Why do you hate me?’.
The question took you by surprise. It was so out of the blue and even more so out of character for Stan to be so straight-forward. You blinked delicately before shrugging your shoulders at him.
‘Do you want the honest answer or the answer that you want to hear from me?’ You pressed, speaking so quiet that it was almost a whisper.
He glanced swiftly over you for a second before responding, ‘Honest.’
It wasn’t like you weren’t expecting Stan to want that answer but the fact that you had to admit it to yourself now, let alone to Stan, was enough to make you faint from nerves.
You looked away from Stan and fiddled with your fingers as you spoke in hushed tones. ‘I envy you. You have better grades, better looks, better charisma, better music taste, better style... a better life. You are better than me in every way. And I despise you for it.’
A masked look of shock ghosted over Stan’s face before it was replaced once again with a stony expression. He sat up straight so that your knees were touching and he placed a hand on the centre of your thigh.
You looked up at him and connected with his gorgeous hazel eyes. He ran his tongue quickly over his lips before his eyes locked onto yours. ‘Now, we both know that’s not true.’
It was as if your body was moving with a mind of its own. Slowly, you were leaning in towards Stan as if you were magnetised to him and to be too far would hurt you in unimaginable ways. ‘How do you mean?’ You breathily responded, your heart pulsing rapidly.
He was so close to you now that you felt his breath against your lips. ‘Because I envy you ten times more.’ And with that closing sentence you felt his lips crash immediately into yours.
All the tension from the last few days swarmed around you both like a storm of arousal and need. His kiss was passionate and rough as he pressed his lips into yours with so much want but his hand on your leg was gentle and sweet as he caressed your inner thigh gently with his thumb.
The constant nagging of your brain screaming at you ‘Don’t sleep with Stan’ was shoved into the back of your mind falling to deaf ears as Stan moved his hand ever so slightly higher up your leg, falling to play with the hem of your dress as he detached his lips from yours to suck on your collarbone with the obvious attempt of planting a hickey.
Stan skillfully moved you both up to the headboard so that he could deepen the passion of your kiss and you quickly maneuvered yourself so that you were now straddling his lap.
His growing erection pressed into your centre as he trailed his smooth hands down to the flesh of your hips, his lips dragging down your jaw to find solace in the crook of your neck.
You felt like you were on fire, Stan’s touch was magnetic and no matter how you’d been trying to resist him, it was impossible. You were addicted to how he made you feel.
Neediness began to bubble through your tummy and you could tell Stan was feeling the same way as his hands were digging into your hips harder than before. Then, his hands began to carefully drag your hips across his hardness, slowly at first.
You could feel every bump of his length through his thin sweatpants and your hands moved down his toned body to fiddle with the hem of his t-shirt.
His hands began to move faster, dragging your thin panties over his hard, clothed dick. He detatched his lips from your neck when you began to let out tiny, little moans of pleasure, thankful for the little bits of stimulation Stan was feeding you.
His eyes trailed down your body, admiring every single bump and curve: the strap of your dress falling off your shoulder, your soaking panties rubbing against him as his hands moulded perfectly with the fat of your hips. They then fell on your face, growing darker at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows, messy hair and plump, red lips from you biting down too hard on them.
Likewise, you were admiring Stan, his sharp jawline clenching and unclenching every time you dragged yourself over his most sensitive spots, his hair uncharacteristically messy from your hands tugging on his curls. He noticed your movements speeding up and he flashed you a dangerous grin; a grin that would make even the biggest prude on the planet drop her panties to her knees.
Acknowledging your shaky hands still fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, he slowed the movement of your hips with his strong hands and dragged you painfully slow now, refusing to let you continue with the rapid pace you’d set before.
“You want this off, baby?” referring to his t-shirt. You nodded shyly, hands still fiddling with the hem.
“Want me to take it off for you? Are you too dumb to do it yourself?” He stared up at you with a patronising look on his face. You groaned annoyedly, but deep down your cunt throbbed with anticipation.
“Just take it off Stan, don’t be a dick.” You glared down at him but your glare immediately switched to a look of shock as Stan’s hands had stopped your hips moving completely now, denying you any release that you were desperately craving.
Narrowing his eyes playfully, he tutted at your lack of control. “Now, that’s no way to ask for what we want is it, sweetheart?” The corner of his lips tugged up satisfactorily as he took in your menacing glare, but also your glossed over eyes indicating your desperation for his cock.
‘Oh, how cute,’ Stan thought pityingly. ‘The poor, little slut’s already gone dumb and I haven’t even fucked her yet.’
You breathed through your nostrils fiercely before succumbing to the begging of your aching clit and gave Stan your best doe eyes before tugging pathetically at the hem of Stan’s crumpled shirt. ‘Please take it off Stan, I’ll do anything, please..’ You pressed down on his length for extra measure just to make sure he would give you what you needed.
A low hum of appreciation mixed with a strangled groan of pleasure escaped Stan’s throat and he mulled it over for a few seconds with that irritating smirk plastered on his face before nodding, clearly satisfied with your begging before he lifted his slender fingers to his collar and removed his shirt - finally.
You took a moment to appreciate the art that was Stanley Uris' abs and sighed contentedly. It seemed your hands had a mind of their own as you wasted no time in rubbing your hands up and down his beautiful torso, gliding over the valleys and hills of his defined muscles.
"Enjoying yourself there, princess?" Stan chimed, clearly cocky that you'd spent about 30 seconds just groping him absentmindedly.
Tearing your eyes away, you glanced up at Stanley's face, adorned with a shit-eating smirk, one of his hands resting behind his head, the other still gripping the fat of your hip, rubbing gentle circles into your flesh.
Slightly embarrassed but, nevertheless, growing quite needy now, you rolled your eyes.
Eyes narrowing at the evil spawn, you thought 'The ego of this man is absolutely atrocious. How dare he try and make fun of me for admiring his physique when if I decided to strip naked right now, his reaction would probably beat mine.'
And then it clicked.
Focusing back on Stanley's disgustingly smug face, you did something you'd never done for Stanley Uris in your entire life.
You gave him a real genuine smile.
The apples of your cheeks beamed down at him and your eyes sparkled lovingly at the boy who was now slightly confused and, albeit, a little bit scared.
Slowly, you leaned down over Stan so your breath tickled his nose and your lips brushed gently against his, just in time to see his cheeks tinge red and his eyes flutter closed, like a naïve teenage girl who was experiencing her first kiss.
Aw, how cute.
Finally, you pressed your lips to Stanley's, so softly Stan thought he might've been kissing a cloud, and just left them there, in a gentle peck, before sitting up again to admire the look of bliss on Stan's face.
His eyes were fluttering open again and his breathing was shallow but fast.
This was the real face of Stan; he had finally taken off his mask for you.
He was so pretty, obviously you knew that already, but you couldn't get lost in his beauty again or your plan wouldn't work.
Then, when he dazedly smiled up at you and made to pull your head down so he could kiss you again, you teasingly began to lift up the hem of your dress until it had been lifted over your head and discarded somewhere on Stan's bedroom floor.
There you sat, on Stanley's clothed, throbbing cock, in just your white silk panties, the little bow just oh so enticing, and your bare, perky breasts on display for Stanley's greedy eyes.
His lips parted ever so slightly as he not-so-discreetly took in a sharp intake of breath. His eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed chest, and you knew you had him when his needy little hands reached up to thumb your erect nipples.
Arrogantly, you smirked down at him, your sweet, loving smile erased. However, Stan failed to notice, too enamoured by your naked body, like a toddler in a candy store.
"Aw, you're like a needy, little puppy, aren't you Stanny?" Your heart beat fast as you finally dropped the sentence you'd been waiting to release since Stan's cocky demeanour had surfaced.
Stan froze as he realised what you had done and his jaw clenched automatically, clearly embarrassed that he had let you entice him just how he had you not even a few minutes ago.
Narrowed eyes were glaring into yours and your confident façade faltered slightly as you realised how deep in shit you were now.
He was gonna ruin you.
However, Stan didn't flip you over dominantly so he was on top of you, or rip your panties off in anger like you had expected him to.
Gradually, he eased himself up his headboard so his back was resting comfortably against it and so the two of you were eye-level, 'innocent' doe-eyes levelled with furious, narrowed eyes.
His hands gently gripped you hips and moved you a little further up his chest, so he could remove his sweatpants, so slow and so patient you were so confused.
He looked deadly, that's for sure. But you'd expected him to be rough with you, teach you a lesson for being so naughty. All in all, other than being clearly vexed, he was treating you like you were a china doll.
As soon as his sweatpants and boxers were discarded, he moved you back to your old spot on his lap and carefully caressed your hips, his thumbs hooking under the straps of your thong and pulling at the sides, fiddling with them gently while intently drilling into your eyes with his own.
"You wanna be in control, huh, sweetheart?" He muttered so quiet you could barely hear but so full of malice your heart immediately sped up.
You had no idea what to say. No, you didn't wanna be in control. You wanted Stan to bend and contort you into any position he wanted, you wanted him to fuck your cunt until you couldn't even form a coherent word, you wanted him to paint the canvas of your body purple, pink and black, in the form of hickeys, bruises and mascara stains.
And you knew he knew that.
You knew by the look on his face, the restraint in his jaw, the rage in his eyes that he definitely did not want that either.
So why was he doing this?
Just as your brows started to furrow in confusion, Stan's thumb had started to rub harsh but deliberate circles over your clothed clit and you let out a gasp.
He tilted his head to the side slightly, furrowing his brows in faux confusion. "Is that... not what you want, baby? You see, I'm just a needy little puppy, right?" He spat at you, evidently fuming but clearly enjoying seeing you in such a state.
You shook your head and dropped your it onto Stan's shoulder, moaning softly as he used one hand to hook your panties to the side while the other found your soaking wet hole and gently inserted two very long fingers.
But, immediately he removed them.
Your head shot up in irritation but you relaxed and hummed contentedly as you realised that Stan was finally lining himself up with your entrance.
You lifted yourself up slightly to make room for his 'oh my god that's scarily big why am i only just noticing this' cock, fluttered your eyelashes closed, and waited for the stretch of him pushing up into you... but it never came.
The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Stan's eyes, still level with yours, looking bored and his hands, once again, behind his head, biceps flexed and causing a big distraction for you.
He looked at you pointedly, but, realising you still didn't get it, rolled his eyes and motioned for you to sit on his cock.
At this point, you would've jumped off a cliff if Stan asked you to if it meant he would grant you some form of release, so you carefully began to lower yourself down onto his tree-trunk of a dick, the stretch of it stinging slightly but the depth of it stimulating you in all the right ways.
You let out a guttural moan as you sat on the base, his cock bottomed out inside of you. You gripped Stan's toned shoulders with force and wiggled about slightly, trying to adjust to this new, amazing feeling and, as you wiggled, you noticed a slight tremor in his mask as his jaw clenched and his eyebrows briefly furrowed in pleasure.
But, as quickly as it faltered, it reappeared and Stan's stoic, unimpressed gaze fell on you once again.
"Well?" He rasped, as if what he wanted was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're in control, right, babe? I'm not moving a muscle."
You knew immediately that he was not kidding, so you bottled up the impatience you had for this stupid, stubborn man and put your game face on.
You could get off without help from Stan, of course you could. You didn't need his touch when you could do a perfectly good job with your hips and your hands.
'Fine.' You thought, glaring at Stan with pure hatred in your eyes. 'Suit yourself.'
So you began to move up and down on Stanley's cock, feeling every vein and twitch as you dragged your walls all over his length, coating it in your slick.
You gripped Stan's flexed biceps, his arms unmoving from behind his head as his eyes flickered between watching your face slowly morph into a dreamy, fucked-out expression, soft, pretty moans escaping from your parted lips every time the tip of his cock would prod at your g-spot, and watching your glistening, stretched out cunt swallow up his length, each time producing more and more slick so every time you slammed back down on his base, you could hear a squelching noise.
The only sign Stan was giving away of him holding any emotion was the twitch of his jaw and brow growing more frequent as the speed of your bounces grew quicker and harsher.
Soon, your bounces grew erratic as you craved your release, the only noises in his room being your desperate whimpers of pleasure, the sound of your wetness, and skin slapping on skin, along with the occasional grunt of approval from Stan.
However, you started to grow tired and out of breath as it had been nearly 5 minutes of you bouncing up and down on Stan's length, with no help from him and your determination to beat Stan at his own game was overwhelmed by your desperation to cum, and you knew you had to admit defeat because you were never gonna cum if you carried on like this.
Reluctantly, you sank down onto Stan and stilled with him deep inside you as you breathed heavily and whimpered with the desperation to cum deep in your tummy, your clit throbbing, begging for release.
Stan's furrowed face quickly changed to that of faux sympathy as he moved his hands to rest on your waist, rubbing gentle circles into the skin. "Oh baby, are you tired? Do you need my help?" He asked, patronising you just a little bit further by stretching out 'need' just to annoy you.
You had no time to be annoyed, however, because you could feel your release creeping just that little bit further away from the loss of stimulation, so you nodded your head frantically, practically begging Stanley to help you with your pathetic little doe eyes, glossy and desperate.
"Please, Stanny, please I need it, I need you, just please make me cum." You whined, your lips ghosting his ear, and gently kissing his cheek just for good measure.
That was all Stan needed to hear as he grabbed your neck, squeezing gently as he brought your face back to his and kissed you harshly, bruising your lips with his teeth as he dragged your lip with him, pulling away, and then releasing it.
"See, that wasn't so hard was it!" He smiled gently at you, pecking your plump, red lips and squeezing your neck in approval, before he moved his hands back to your waist, his grip turning nasty and he lifted you up right to his tip, then plunging his hips upwards into yours.
You choked on your moan from the sheer force of his thrust but soon gained your voice back as he continued his rough, rapid thrusting up into your eager pussy, practically dripping, begging for a long overdue orgasm.
You collapsed your tired aching body on top of Stan, your head buried in his neck, muffling your high-pitched moans from the ears of your drunk parents downstairs.
Stan moved his hands down to your ass and gripped the flesh harshly and his thrusts were slamming repeatedly into a spot that made you clench fiercely down on him and shriek with overwhelming pleasure.
Stan groaned into your ear as you continually clenched around him, whispering filthy praises into your ear making your legs tremble and your stomach flip as your impending orgasm was getting closer and closer.
"Can you hear yourself, princess? Can you hear the noises your pretty pussy is making?" The squelching of your wetness was embarrassing to say the least and you could feel Stan smirking without even having to look at him.
As he kept hitting that same spot, you could feel yourself so close to the edge as your legs trembled and your moans grew louder and higher.
"I'm gonna- I'm gonna come, Stanny." You managed to babble out through your whimpers as you felt that overwhelming rush of pleasure build up deep inside you.
Stan lifted your head up and grabbed it with both of his hands whilst still thrusting repeatedly in and out of your sopping cunt, forcing you to look into his eyes.
He had a look of pure concentration adorning his face, brows furrowed, jaw clenched and hair messy, letting out little breathy moans of his own every now and then.
"That's it princess, I wanna see that pretty face when you come all over my cock." And the coil snapped.
You let out a scream of pleasure as your entire body jolted, your orgasm washing over you, your toes clenching and your pussy spasming around Stan's length.
You collapsed onto Stan once again, letting out tiny moans, clearly exhausted from the intensity of the orgasm Stanley had given you, and the spasming of your cunt had clearly not been lost on him as his relentless thrusting had begun to grow sloppy.
Stan was moaning quite loudly in your ear now, a death-grip on your ass cheeks as he fucked up into you, chasing his own high.
You knew he needed a little push so you sat up slightly so you could whisper in his ear breathy and raspy like someone who was recovering from one of the best orgasms they'd ever had in their life, "I want you to come inside me."
The words that make every man orgasm on the spot did not lose their effect on Stan as he let out a loud groan of ecstasy and his thrusts slowed until they came to a stop, clearly having done what you asked.
He dropped his forehead to yours and grabbed your hands, fiddling with them as you both caught your breath.
Holy shit.
You didn't know what to do as you both just lay there gathering your thoughts, attempting to comprehend what just happened.
However, you knew you couldn't stay in this post-orgasmic bubble forever so you gently lifted yourself off of Stan's softening dick and got up to look for your dress.
You were halted, however by a hand closing around your wrist.
Turning around, Stan was lazily grinning up at you with a look of victory on his face as he was dragging you to lie back down on the bed with him and you couldn't help but smile back at him, full of a mysterious feeling for the boy who was just so beautiful.
How could you say no?
Climbing back into bed with him, you both turned to face each other, him still grinning at you, and you studying each and every freckle and blemish on his skin, realising that you loved each and every one of them.
You loved them.
Oh my god.
You loved Stan.
Suddenly, you burst out laughing and Stan jumped slightly before a grin erupted back onto his face as he asked what was so funny.
You managed to get through your laughter, barely, the words that you never thought you'd say in your life. "I- I'm in love - with - with you." Before you immediately started giggling again uncontrollably.
Stan joined in on your laughter, his shoulders moving up and down from the force of his laughs as he breathed out "I'm in love with you too."
You both laid there giggling uncontrollably like a pair of middle schoolers, laughing at your own stupidity.
Once the laughter died down you smiled up at Stan and nuzzled yourself into his chest, planting a few soft kisses there as he pulled you in closer and buried his nose into your hair.
You were drawing shapes on his arms, daydreaming in the comfortable silence when you heard Stan mutter into your hair something inaudible.
You sat up gently looking at him quizzically for a second until you noticed the look of pure adoration on his face that was directed to you before he said gravelly and clearly exhausted, "I hate you so much." before he buries his face into your neck and peppered you with kisses.
You giggled and whispered, "I love you too, stupid."
#it fandom#it fanfiction#stanley uris#stanley uris smut#stanley uris x reader#stan uris#stan uris smut#stan uris x reader#it smut#stan it#stan uris it#stanley uris it
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afab!reader x kyle ‘gaz’ garrick | 1.9k words
description: you were in need of relief after your boyfriend broke up with you. your last ditch effort to go in a club was not wasted.
note: my first time writing smut, i felt like i lost my vocabulary.
warnings: 18+, mating press, p in v, drunk sex, unprotected intercourse.
you stood lost as the music blare into your eardrums through your head prohibiting you from hearing your logical opinions as to why you shouldn’t even be here in the first place.
it was not your place, far and opposing to what you usually are into. you didn’t even know how to enter the place, yes, a club.. the scent of vomit, alcohol, sweat, drunk mindless people screaming and dancing through bright colorful lights you could get blinded by.
you pull the hem of your pink silk dress, nervously brushing a strand of hair off your face, brushing it behind your ear with a shaky breath walking further into the very messy place.
your reasoning, very dumb, even for you. your boyfriend of 2 years just recently broke up with you about 2 months ago.. which was still fresh in your mind and one thing you very much miss about the relationship was the physical touch, in which at first you weren’t so fond of but now you searched for—
the way he’d hold you, nestle into you, breathe you, kiss you, fuck you, you missed that. and now to find the most saddest excuse to have it, a club, get drunk, get too out of your head and finally have the guts to pull a guy out the bar for some fun time.
a dangerous yet very endearing idea you’ve been thinking every night about, your fingers never satisfied you, your thoughts weren’t enough— and maybe tonight you can finally get him out your head, wish that somebody in here would knock the longing out of you via their dick.
despite how insanely nasty your thoughts were, how everything was just about getting laid.. the way you prep yourself, look all dolled up and ready to mingle, putting yourself in a dress that felt it revealed too much of you shouldn’t go to waste no matter how embarrassed you already felt.
in all honesty, if it weren’t for your personal needs you’d be bundled up in bed, on your phone in a cozy outfit throughout the whole day and night, relaxing, enjoying your free time before you go back to work. not this, be around loud social people who slurs their words.. but you were only comforted by the thought that maybe someone here has the same intentions as you.
first thing you went to was the bar, of course, where else? you weren’t going to dance sober because you’d be sober enough to get flustered and run as if everyone was laughing at you. you wearily asked for a shot of whiskey, the only alcohol you knew that was high on its level; probably just a few shots would get you drunk.
and that you were correct, you sat down on that bar stool no longer than 30 minutes with 4 shots and you have a spinning world, your brain foggy, eyes droopy, looking around made you want to puke. but no! you have a mission! clumsily hopping off the stool, snaking your way to the dance floor.. bumping into everyone that is.
“woah.. easy there, dove.” you’ve harshly bump your shoulder against a man’s chest, you were about to tip and fall over if not for his large hands catching you around your waist, the other held you forearm in place.. your eyes fluttered up immediately from the sound of his soothing voice, a tone that immediately got your veins to pump. not only was his voice charming, so was his appearance. you didn’t realize his own slurring of words, but be damn sure you were more drunk than he was.
tall male, chiseled jaw, pretty smile, a clean faded cut, properly shaven, strong arms, handsome… very.
“drinkin’ me up well?” he teased, pulling you forward, a cheeky smile plastered on his face. “mhm.. you got the looks.” you slur, though you try to hide it willingly stumbling ahead, watching as he would slide his hand from your forearm to your hand— calloused, rough and bigger than yours yet, he held you gently now that you’ve managed to balance yourself in his hold.
“you’re not too bad yourself.” your breath hitched when he twirled you around, tugging you closer, getting your back to press against his broad chest- tipping his head forward to whisper down your ear. you felt his breath caress your jaw and cheek, the smell of alcohol coming from him. something you never knew smelt so attractive until now. he whispered, the gravely tone in his voice tickled your ear “a gorgeous babe, in fact..” it was suggestive, without even looking over your shoulder you knew the man was smirking.
you felt a shiver ran down your spine, especially when his large hand slither down your abdomen, feeling the silky fabric of your cute pink dress.. a mischievous hand resting roughly over your pelvis pushing your ass to press on his crotch. you, stupid you, mindlessly started grinding for him. you heard him sigh, keeping his hand over you, the other repositioning to your hips— the subtle grinding while following along the music as if you were only dancing.
you feel him slowly get hard over his trousers, only from the feeling of his bulge against your ass, you bit your lip by how big he felt. you never knew you were this needy for something so quickly, you were always someone who stood by your words that sex means more when there’s strings tied. you’ll stumble upon those words when you spoke of it again, now that you’re doing something you once believed was stupid and useless.
but that is a thought that will not appear in your fucked out head now that you were prompted near the edge of his bed, smelling the fragrance he’d normally use, the soft cotton of his grey sheets underneath the dim light that his bedside lamp lit. legs pushed up your chest as he rammed his cock deep into you, your silky dress somewhere on his floor.. you two couldn’t wait, even in his car on the way to his place you were already sucking his veiny dick greedily..
yes, he was drunk driving but shit he had to get you home, he just had to.
it escalated so fast but if someone like you had to bump into him, such an eye-catcher, well-dressed, drunken eyes yet your eyes still held such innocence within such a place when you looked up at him, what would you expect a man would do? he swore his brown irises was covered by his blown pupils from the sight of you. you both quickly muttered your names in-between hungry lips when you two were stumbling to get inside his house, undoing the first strap of your dress.
he’s got you where you both wanted yourself to be, underneath him with the only sounds you knew how to make were moans, whimpers, and whines of his name. lips not once leaving yours or the skin you let him behold as he marks your insides with his pre, your tightness made him growl with every hard thrusts. “fuck, y’feel good..” he breathily moan out, trailing kisses down the sides of your lips to your jawline. his room echoes the sound of his creaking bed and the slapping of skins.
you cry out of ecstasy, a pleasure you haven’t been feeling for months, or maybe even years.. a whole stranger treating your pussy better than your boyfriend ever did. “Kyle..” you called his name in such a slutty tone that it caused him to push deeper, the tip of his fat cock bullying your cervix over and over. ruining your insides as if he wants your pussy to remember every veins of his cock. his size. “mmhh, fuck, lovely.. say that again. say my name.” he grunts, his dick twitching only from the sounds you were making, his balls hitting your ass with every hard shove. “K-Kyle!” you repeat, gasping it out this time.
clawing the bottoms of your thighs while he fucks you deep, the kisses and love bites he gives from around your neck down to your collarbone and breasts making you shiver underneath him. nipping your nipples, pulling at it roughly by his teeth continuously plunging his girth into your needy little hole.
you were seeing stars, every pistons of his hips felt like he’s sobering you up. watching him lick your hardened nipples, sucking like his life depended on it only for him to stop when you clamp down around him. leaving his mouth open yet remained pressed on your small plump breast, a loud moan erupting from his throat— you felt so fucking good it made him dizzier, like you were better than any alcohol or drugs he would ever take. both your thoughts were hazy, rutting into you like a horny animal.
the sight of your head tipped over the edge of Kyle’s bed, your body rocking along with the rhythm of his hips, you felt so full- looked so full.. your gummy walls leaking around his cock creating a creamy ring around his base, the wet sounds your pussy makes mixing with both of yours’ fluids, he was sure his sheets were soaked of your juices with the way you were leaking. “shit.” he mutters, movement slowing down only to lean back and watch you through half-lidded eyes.
so fucked and stretched out beneath him, like a wonderful.. pleasurable wet dream his drunk ass had created in his head, perfection. “fuckin’ gorgeous, you are..” he praised bending back down with a smile drawing on his lips, it’s not just his drunkenness talking ‘cause you are one hell of a pull. his hands leaving your thighs alone to bring your arms above your head, pinning you further down the soft mattress of his bed.
you squealed from the sudden jolt of Kyle’s hips, plunging his cock impossibly deeper down your bullied womb, the heels of your feet hooking around the back of his thighs to hold on to while he bounces his cock into your sopping pussy. your hips jumping at the sudden friction he gives your clit, a hand in-between your sweaty bodies swiping at it with his thumb. you felt your orgasm approaching, you started to spasm— your toes started to curl, with your eyes rolling back and you arching your back.
you’ve probably met the fucking lord by how good it felt, feeling heaven just above you, you squirt painting his pelvis and thighs with your sticky cream.. “mmhh, there you go.. there she is..” he caressed the tip of his nose over your jawline with a gentle chuckle. continuing to move inside you helping you ride out your high, overstimulation hitting you like electricity when he kept going on a rhythm. the last thrusts before he nestled his dick deeper inside your sensitive little cunt shooting thick ropes of cum inside you, filling your womb.
next early morning you’ve been greeted by a strong migraine and very sore muscles especially along your inner thighs. took you a whole minute to recall bits and pieces of what happened last night, you were reminded. a panic flowing through your blood but only for it to immediately falter when you took sight of a snoring man beside you.
his lips slightly open, half his gorgeous face buried into his fluffy pillow. you’ve sobered up, just a bit hung over but you know for damn sure your drunken mind didn’t fool you when you first looked at him back at the club, he was undoubtedly something to behold. to have him pressed against you like this, a hand draped over your midriff.. the faint looming smell of sex and alcohol still lingering in the air, maybe a little more rest would do fine.. choosing to cuddle yourself closer to his warm body, missing the way Kyle would subtly smile when you did.
#kyle gaz garrick#cod smut#gaz smut#gaz x reader#gaz x you#gaz x female reader#gaz imagine#gaz garrick
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your fav mello/near fics??? thank yeww (also love your drawings!)
oohh this reminds me i should pick up my ff.net archival reclist project up again...
it is of note that it's been a looooong while since i've combed the archives and there's a couple of common tropes i don't usually read due to personal taste, so i'm sure there's a lot of good fic i'm unaware of and/or forgetting about! this has totally renewed my interest in making a comprehensive personal reclist >:) perhaps i'll come back and edit this post every now and then.
i owe comments to nearly everyone mentioned here i am SO sorry. it's a lost skill that i am working on developing again. at the very least i've got everyone in one place so i can go down the list this year. i encourage everyone reading from this reclist to leave a comment too!
i wrote "off the top of my head" but this got VERY long so under the readmore it goes
obligatory classics
• the famous @tierfal 's sidetracked (2010) and full of surprises (2009). rated e and m respectively. these are like the allegorical little black dress in the wardrobe of the platonic ideal of the mellonear oneshot. seem to be pretty well known across the ship fandom
• stripped (2009) by blueberryash/@tka-trashfire on tumblr. explicit. i haven't read this in a while but i remember it capturing the delicate gossamer tension of the ship in a way that was sooo bittersweet and nostalgic.
• to speak of rules and privilege (2008) also by blueberryash/@tka-trashfire, gen, a manifesto on tenderness, soooooooooo soft, changed the game, near being afraid of thunderstorms was immediately adopted into personal canon. big time influence for the way i write near and mello's pre-canon relationship re: big brother, little brother.
• an understanding (2008) by blueberryash/@tka-trashfire, rated T, short and sweet, razor sharp prose, the aesthetics of the little piece live rent free in my head.
• dual(2011) by ramasi, @ramasi here i believe. rated m. historians say this might be one of the first examples of mellonear choking kink ever recorded,
•scarification (2012) by gacrux11 on fanfiction.net, rated m, big time dead dove do not eat. sorry this one leans early 2010s era grimdark melodrama but i love it sjkdfkjfd. not enough dead dove fics about the boys if u ask me.
• salt in the wound (2007)
•tempus fugit (2007), and
• white out (2006) by vaudevillain king on fanfiction. net. a beloved rare find. all of them are rather grimdark edgy products of their era, but some of the best the era had to offer. they make me so nostalgic for my teenagehood on fanfiction.net. i get the impression these might've been written even before death note was finished?
• birthday smut (2009) by kleine_aster on livejournal. explicit. this one is SO funny to me because it is both really, really good, very in character, but unfortunately it suffers from almost satirical misogyny that afflicted fujoshis back in the day. near literally is like oh that bitch... like. he would not fucking think that but i can edit quickly in my brain as i read. bisexual mello rights! otherwise really sexy imo. i might be writing something that's kind of in conversation with this fic.
RARE finds
(please tell me if you enjoy any of these, i want to feel like an explorer that's brought back treasures from far away lands)
contemporary favorites:
• you've heard about it before and you will hear about it again: the archer ensnared (2023) by jabbernatty, rated e. a jessaerys obligatory syllabus read, the fic that made me go fulltime yaoi disease. i owe so much to jabbernatty they are my white whale my friend my enemy the writer i've psychically imprinted on from the beginning. honestly too scared to even leave a comment given the jessarys archer ensnared lore. may one day may contact and pray i don't come across as insane
• postmortem (2023) by the_hemlock true gen, a favorite of ALL time. it's only tangentially mn really, it is 99% about near trying to piece together the mystery of lawlight post-canon, but the characterization and prose are some of if not the best i've ever come across. reads like it could be a piece of canon material. if you only read one fic on this list i'd pick postmortem.
• it's friday i'm in love by neallo/@neallo rated m. possibly my all time fave in the neallo cinematic universe. something about the after-hours longing and the standing in the kitchen by the refrigerator lights, as the poets say. i love when stories feel like you're cutting out a window to peer into a larger universe that is just out of reach. perfectly captures what it is like to have a maddening crush
• i want to hold you (hostage)(2023) by neallo/@neallo rated e. thee defining fic of this current modern mellonear era. manages to walk the line of kinky/sexy/sweet/fluffy all at once. plot twist of the century in the last chapter. near is properly as bananas insane as mello is in this fic, which is the marker of a good mellonear dynamic. really everything by morgan neallo is a safe bet for a great read
• there's nothing i want but you (2023) by neallo/@neallo rated t. wammy's era mellonear obsessiveness that is soooo teenagery and yet a portent of just how codependent they might one day get. cute and ominous.
• armageddon/kill game (2024) by bolide/@bolide-archive came out of nowhere a couple of months ago and ascended to the top of the game like a dark horse. rated m, chess au. one of my favorite interior mello narrations and one of the most similar to my own interpretation. such naturally talented prose. i rotate lines from this in my head all the time. still in progress but i have faith that it will be completed :')
• how to burn down the sacred loom (2023) by dornishviper/@vriskarlmarx a contemporary CLASSIC. the less you know going in the better. beautiful prose, beautiful structure. they don't make fic like this anymore
• the house always wins (2023) by mer_curia/@vivi-scera. screaming with my mouth closed. holds a special place in my heart given that it is my posting that convinced vi to give the ship a try, and i was rewarded with a fic that is so catered to my tastes i honestly had to read it through my fingers. SO good, the manifesto on wammyscest, so rather controversial. heed the warnings.
• moonlight (2023) by tsukinousagi/@quicktimeeventfull rated t. an austere, cold little glimpse into a vampire au. it's giving let the right one in. so melancholic. one of the saddest near examinations out there.
•proximity tells (2018) by abysmallypresent, rated m. truly lives up to death note's second-by-second minutia while managing to keep up the tension the entire time. great characterization.
•silhouettes (2015) by bad blood/eroticcodependence,
@wxmmyshouse on tumblr. unrated, post-canon compliant. made me CRY! elegantly short and simple, bittersweet and so so wistful.
•arsonist's lullabye (2023) by tzviaariella/@tzviaariella. rated t. this one has a heart-wrenching air of realism to it that exists outside the chaotic universe of death note, one of those examinations of picking up the pieces after the titans have all gone away. very bittersweet.
honorary mentions
• let's die somewhere prettier (2020) by firesafinething also one of my absolute favorites, unfortunately it is discontinued and it is likely it will never be completed. sad! the premise seemed SO promising. in my mind i file it right next to postmortem mentioned above. the exploration of the tragedy of 27 year old near we could have had in a better timeline. one day i will leave a comment so good maybe it will bring back the fic from the land of the dead
• august underground by me & @firebuggg rated e, in progress. >:) (shamless self promo)
#death note#meronia#mello dn#near dn#mihael keehl#nate river#mello#near#fic recs#this took so long to compile dfkgjfdjkgfdjk
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hey another thing since my brain is broken and i have an MA in literature i'm gonna analyze the lyrics of "aortic desecration" and "SOS."
under the cut this time since last time my brain vomited a bunch of aotd analysis it went on for way too long sorry.
but seriously i wrote a fuckton here over the course of two sleep deprived sessions, so you'll either think i'm a madman or a divine genius.
okay for simplicity, "aortic desecration" lyrics are gna be in red and "SOS" lyrics r gna be in green. i hope tumblr made those colors distinct enough for ppl with colorblindness.
[intro]
we're all going to die [x3]
eventually
[verse 1]
toxic waste, acidic paste
degradation
crushed by a plane, driven insane
mutilation
cranial glitch
dumped in a ditch
gangrenous stitch
this is already a lot. nathan's coming at this with the idea that he has to write the most brutal and fucked up song of all time, so he just reminds everyone of their mortality and lists a fuck ton of ways that might happen (many of which do happen during the performance of this song). but even his point of adding eventually after saying how everyone wil die is interesting—it's like that was also tacked on during the performance like, "yeah but not today please haha." not a whole lot to go into here, except the way the first verse ends.
failure has entered your soul
now first of all, some sources have this line as "madness has entered your soul," but i've only ever heard "failure." and i think that makes sense—before this song even started, nathan realized that he wrote the wrong song but it was too late. i think once he got through the majority of the first verse, he went off-script, so to speak, and instead of singing about death, he started singing about realizing his own failure and mistake and how that was about to lead to the apocalypse. this continues into the next verse
[verse 2]
how could you be so fucking naive?
you fled for refuge and fell to your knees
you spoke the words and brandished your heart
you left yourself open to be torn apart, torn apart
hi brendon small i would like some recompense. he's speaking exactly to himself, how he was so naive to think that a song of salvation would be a song of death, how he was running from everyone and tried to do this all on his own. he sang about death because that was what he believed was the only thing he knew how to do, he refused to actually do some introspection and figure out what salvation was. and now here he is.
[chorus]
aortic desecration
how could i be so wrong?
disemboweled publicly
this is the dying song
[bridge]
look out
bleed [x8]
[chorus]
[outro]
aortic desecration
atrial annihilation
pulmonic devestation
so this chorus and the outro are fun for me because they're doing that thing that brutal death bands do where they just throw in a bunch of big words that sound scary and fucked up. and they are! aortic desecration essentially refers to a violation of the heart, since the aorta is the main part of the circulatory system and it's been desecrated. nathan broke his own goddamn heart by doing exactly what he feared—causing the apocalypse. he says as much in asking how he could be so wrong? as for being disemboweled publicly, well, here's what my literature MA ass immediately thought of. in sylvia plath's The Bell Jar, she writes about being suicidal and depressed, and one of the ways she considers killing herself is by disemboweling herself in her bathtub. this also reminded me of the way the god character killed himself in the film Begotten. so my initial thought, as gruesome as it is, is that nathan has kinda metaphorically killed himself in front of the whole world by singing the song that he knew was wrong. historically speaking, disemboweling people while still alive was also a form of torture and capital punishment, so that checks out. then he says "this is the dying song," fully recognizing what he's done. the final lyrics of the song once again refer to fucked up shit happening to the heart, with the atria being your heart's upper chambers, and "pulmonary" referring to your lungs, though typically in the sense of bloodflow.
then of course we get him chanting for the world to bleed, but also proclaiming, "look out." now at first i thought this was just kind of an ad lib—it's not uncommon in music to have lyrics like that that are added just to help the flow but don't actually add much to the content of the words. i don't think this is the case especially when comparing this to "SOS," but for now i'll start by just pointing out that "look out" very easily could've doubled in meaning as being a warning to the world. like, this isn't just fun and games any more—actually look out, you're actually going to die.
as for "SOS"...
[verse]
last breath
skyward
dark sign
closing line
no time
to mend this life
take this hand
this last time
alright this is pretty straightforward. this is their last chance to get it right, if it isn't too late already. but there's also that line of "skyward," which is the first instance in this song of recognizing the doomstar itself. there's no mention of the doomstar at all in "aortic desecration," which is kinda strange if you think about it. not even in the dying song is there an acknowledgement of why the apocalypse might be happening, mainly because the dying song—once nathan realizes what it is anyway—is primarily about hopelessness and fucking up. why even acknowledge the greater power at work when this is nathan's fault (in the context of the song)? but instead nathan acknowledges that the focus has to be on the doomstar, but also on everyone coming together and standing against this force that is greater than all of them. this song immediately establishes the haste in what they're doing, immediately countering the deflection in the dying song. nathan tried making the dying song work by saying, "we're all going to die eventually," but nathan here has the perspective to realize, no. people will die now, are dying now, it might already be too late to fix this, but dammit they're not giving up yet.
[chorus]
we're the shadows of the infinite
we stand alive
we're nothing but the soil of time
beasts in the night
reach with my open hand
bound for all time
in the shadows of the blazing star
fused, we're the light
"shadows of the infinite" is an acknowledgement of their godlike powers, which they've either been completely ignorant to during the majority of the series or just didn't want to admit (think back to "how can i be a hero?" when none of them wanted to step up and do what they had to do). yet despite this acknowledgement of their divinity, their power, they are also recognizing that they are still just people. they can't do anything by themselves, they have to work with other forces. being "nothing but the soil of time" is a reference to being a gear in the wheel of the klok—clock, time, etc., yet also being "beasts in the night" refers to this unhinged power and danger they still hold. "reach with my open hand" is the most obvious line, with the animation in this scene directly reminding us of nathan's conversation with the whale prophet. once again, a reference to the doomstar, and the final line foreshadows nathan using the dethlights alongside both dethklok and the army of the doomstar. these are the people that must work together with this divine power to take out something greater.
it's also worth noting that while the official line seems to be "fused, we're the light," i can ALSO hear it is "fused with the light." so it can be interpreted either as, nathan and the band and the army of the doomstar all coming together to becoming the light/dethlights, or nathan and the band and the army of the doomstar being fused with the light/dethlights. it's not that much of a difference i guess, but a slight different implication of whether or not they themselves are the light or if the light is a separate entity.
[bridge]
now
rise (rise) [x8]
movin' out, movin' out
[chorus]
this is the part that convinced me to make this a comparison. this is a direct parallel and contrast to the bridge in "aortic desecration," with calls to bleed being replaced with calls to rise. they even chant it the same number of times, guys idk what to tell you. PLUS there's an echo repeat of "rise" throughout this bridge, and while it could very well be a literal echo, who else wants to believe it was all the other members of dethklok singing it? kinda like the "die, die" in the duncan hills jingle? and then the "ad lib" of "look out" is instead replaced with "movin' out." instead of nathan telling everyone to run away, be watchful, be fearful, he's calling on them to come with him and fight with him.
have i talked enough about how brendon small is a fucking genius?
plus based on a few shots from this performance during aotd, i think toki might have been playing lead. which would be super cool, because this would make this the second song that is confirmed to have toki in the lead, the other being "blazing star."
anyway i've fooled you all because now i wanna talk about "blazing star." i know this song has been out for a decade now and has been analyzed a bunch, but i wanna look at it specifically now with the context of the movie.
first off, before i get into the analysis, i'm pretty sure the performance of "blazing star" at the end of the doomstar requiem never happened. i think it was purely non-diegetic, just like half the songs in this whole opera, but it was presented as a proper dethklok song to symbolize the band being reunited and looking towards their next big hurdle of the actual metalocalypse. my main reason for thinking this is that the idea that dethklok saved toki, wrote this song, performed it for the world while announcing, "hey toki's back and he's okay," is DIRECTLY in contrast with the opening scene of aotd where the band makes their first public appearance since saving toki and a standard dethklok performance trigger's nathan's ptsd. i know metalocalypse isn't known for continuity, but they would've mentioned dethklok having a performance post-rescue. and nathan in aotd is so ready to not face his destiny, there's no way he would write and perform a song about exactly that. he's also adamant that he doesn't sing about hope or life, but that's exactly what "blazing star" is about.
enough preamble let's look at that song.
[verse 1, nathan]
the glowing clouds, the diamond's birth
the spiral cluster descends to earth
the nebulas conspire to bring
the signifier and the death of a king
already with more context from aotd, i'm obsessed with this. it's setting up the doomstar and the destiny of the doomstar being either the death of salacia or of nathan. i haven't spoken yet about the parallels between nathan and salacia, that's something that's going to take a WHILE to work out, but the long and short of it is, they're powerful beings who can only achieve their full power when being reunited with four other souls/people. GUYS. they are very clearly meant to parallel each other. knowing now that the doomstar is a portal meant to reunite salacia with the "four souls," it's unlikely that this "death of a king" is inherently meant to refer to salacia, because the doomstar would have to be inherently anti-salacia, which it's not. at that, it seems like this "king" is probably meant to be nathan, or all of dethklok, since it's through their deaths that salacia would be reunited and the metalocalypse would happen. it's hard to tell tbh, the doomstar is a neutral figure—all we know is that it can bring death, and it holds power that other figures can harness.
i'm a man with a tortured sight
i fear this dream will end tonight
the water beasts continue singing
we try to wake but we're not dreaming
THIS i find incredibly fascinating. it's no secret at this point that nathan had been dreaming about the whale prophet for who knows how long, and this is very clearly referring to that. the first line of this section even foreshadows nathan being the only one to remember the night they rescued toki. what i find interesting is the contrast between nathan "fear[ing] this dream will end" but also "try[ing] to wake but [isn't] dreaming." these are directly contradictory at first glance—he's scared of this dream ending, but he also wants to wake up? unless these are two completely different dreams.
the first half of aotd, nathan, pickles, skwisgaar, and murderface aren't rescuing toki, aren't even letting themselves think about him. they're only focusing on partying around the world, and they sing a whole song about how they love being useless billionaires and don't want to be heroes OR regular jackoffs. i think that's the first dream—being DETHKLOK, having no problems, doing whatever they want, that's the dream nathan is scared is ending. because after that night of rescuing toki, of harnessing the dethlights, everything has gotten so real. they can't ignore it anymore.
at the same time, realizing that there are greater forces out there trying to destroy the world, trying to use them to destroy the world, everything with the church of the black klok—that must feel like a dream. that's the dream he wants to wake up from.
he wants to stay in his dream of being rich and powerful, but he doesn't want to be stuck in the dream—the nightmare—of the literal apocalypse.
i'm gonna find you
i'm running out of time
i gotta play this part
this is my lot in life
with this power i am endowed
the end is coming so bring it on now
again, another reason i don't believe this song was diegetic. this is the first moment of clarity he had about the metalocalypse, about how he had to do something about it, whether he wanted it or not. again, in the beginning of aotd, he had no interest in this. i guess it's possible he went back and forth on that (i wouldn't be too surprised), but again, this is a pretty hopeful message, all things considered. he even says "bring it on" to the fucking apocalypse. tell me again about how you don't write songs about hope, nate. i only buy that if he never wrote and performed this song.
[verse 2, pickles]
oh the keeper wields his scythe
oh you gotta kiss this life goodbye
there is another place beyond we'll meet in time
and i will greet you all in the next life, yeah
having pickles sing in general is based, but i've never fully understood why he was in this song. like if anything, this song feels like the kind of ballad that would have EACH member of dethklok sing a little bit, so it's strange to have just pickles and nate. it gets less strange with the hindsight of aotd, where their relationship was the primary emotional focus. but let's actually look at what pickles is saying here. it's pretty standard stuff: death is looming, but if worst comes to worst we'll be together in the afterlife.
i wanna fucking throw up (positive). what was that offdensen said to pickles in aotd? "be a true friend, even if it gets messy." pickles's verse is NOTHING but, "hey nate things are getting bad but i'll always be with you." I'M NOT REACHING THAT'S ALL THIS IS.
[chorus, nathan]
the blazing star, it burns so bright
the darkened power, the dethly light
bring it on now, this is our time
we're the new regime, together we'll fight
again, standard stuff. doomstar, dethlights, fighting together. all things considered, this could have been the song of salvation. there's not much i can really say other than the fact that since it wasn't, it must not exist in the metalocalypse world, right?
toki had the solo on this song. i don't have to speculate for that, it's made abundantly clear with the animation in the ending sequence of the doomstar requiem. he had the solo because this whole song is about the band coming together to face something greater than them, and they wouldn't have had the power to do that if they didn't have toki with them. it's also them recognizing the worth toki has in the band—at first, it seemed like his worth was just making skwisgaar play better (that was certainly the implication at the end of "the duel"), but it's greater than that.
let's say i'm right—let's say i'm right and toki also had the lead/solo during "SOS." what does that tell you that toki is granted the opportunity ot have the lead SPECIFICALLY DURING SONGS OF HOPE AND CAMARADERIE?? he, much like murderface, is foundational to the band. murderface is the voice of dissent, toki is the voice of hope.
and let's say i'm wrong, and toki only had a solo during the song that doesn't actually exist. that's fine too, because if "blazing star" is meant to be a symbolic, non-diegetic song, then that still proves my point of toki being foundational to the band ("even if you don'ts do nothings") and, more importantly, their divine power.
wow that was a lot if you got to the end pls like comment and subscribe.
#Metalocalypse#Army of the Doomstar#Dethklok#Nathan Explosion#Pickles the Drummer#Toki Wartooth#dichromaticdyke.exe#written in a fit of divine madness
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burners and how late I think they got their autism diagnosis
(made by an autistic person)
TEXAS
immediately. came out of the womb with a diagnosis
also has bad ADHD but kept forgetting to take his meds so he just goes through life unmedicated ❤️ live your truth king
CHUCK
got diagnosed in elementary school
everyone thought he was just shy before but, haha, NO.
autism + anxiety combo been kicking his ass since he was tiny
got put in a special needs class but then everyone realized he's fucking smart as fuck so he got yeeted straight to a gifted class
JULES
only realized something felt off high school
insanely good at masking so no one ever suspected anything until she did some research herself
struggles with letting herself unmask, even around friends
DUTCH
he doesn't know yet. don't tell him he needs to realize it himself
"haha isn't it so weird how all of my friends are neurodivergent.... not me though!"
will realize in his mid twenties and struggle to get diagnosed
once he does he'll tell burners and they'll be like "oh we know"
now that I think about it...... maybe possibly also ADHD? time blindness kicked his ass in Going Dutch...... idk
BONUS
MIKE
not autistic actually
but EXTREMELY adhd
got diagnosed in like kindergarten but didn't know it, all he knew is that he had to take medication but didn't ever actually wonder what it was for
only realized when he left Deluxe and suddenly his brain started doing cartwheels bc he didn't have his meds with him
#motorcity#headcanons#autism#adhd#neurodivergent#texas yang#chuck motorcity#julie kane#dutch gordy#mike chilton
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look down on me like that - 5 (explicit)
genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst)
pairing: yoongi x reader
summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.
word count: 11.4k (you're welcome 😌)
contains: ~explicit sexual content~ !! *deep breath in* YES THERE IS ACTUAL FUCKING HAPPENING - EVERYONE REMAIN CALM. also i promise this is the most unhinged reader gets lmao. alright let's go: one night stand/stranger sex, semi-public sex (bathroom of a bar), fingering, spanking, a truly gratuitous blowjob, orgasm denial, a smidge of dirty talk/namecalling, finger sucking?, protected sex, semi-awkward sex lmao, the hatefucking is HERE 🙌🏻 plenty of alcohol mentions as always,, so much alcohol. this chapter also features a couple fun cameos - kihyun of monsta x and wonho 💜
A/N: hope y'all enjoy this absolute CHAOS!! i have so many lovely friends who cheered me on while i was writing this, far too many to name, but i fucking adore you all 🥺🥺 and i do want to specifically shoutout @kiestrokes because the ~spicy twist~ in this chapter would not be HALF as good if it wasn't for her and her big beautiful brain. srsly she took a half-baked idea i had and made it insane. god i love that woman. ALRIGHT ENOUGH BABBLING - ENJOY!!!!!
read on AO3!
chapter four | masterlist | chapter six
~*~
“Try this.” Jimin yanks an emerald green dress off the hanger and chucks it over his shoulder, nearly hitting you.
“Ugh, I hate this one,” you groan as you hold the offending item up for inspection, pinched between index finger and thumb. “The fabric is so itchy.”
Your best friend whips around, hands on hips, when you question his taste. “I’m sorry, did I just hear you going back on our agreement? Is that what this is?”
You groan, flopping over onto your bedspread, doing your best not to mess up your hair. Jimin had, understandably, been pissed when you’d called him immediately upon leaving the office last night, hands still shaking as you cradled the phone against your cheek. You think you have permanent hearing damage from the anguished wails your best friend made as you finally admitted everything you hadn’t told him. And you certainly could have done without the appreciative noises he made after he forced you to describe Suga’s dick in explicit detail.
It’s not like you aren’t constantly thinking about it, anyway.
Especially now that Yoongi has specifically told you everything, everything he wants to do to you. The words swim back to you in pieces whenever you aren’t actively trying to suppress the memory. Finger that tight little pussy. Spank you until you bruise. Fuck you like the slut you so clearly are.
God. You’ve been horny for 24 hours straight. This can’t be good for your health.
Jimin had nearly disowned you for letting secrecy infiltrate your friendship for the first time in over a decade, but then he’d realized how truly distraught you were as you just kept babbling into the phone about Suga, too far gone to make any sense.
“Jesus fucking christ, it’s not the end of the world!” He’d finally interrupted with a frustrated groan. “You really think Suga is the only man in the world who can fuck you senseless? He was probably overselling it anyway. Having a pretty dick doesn’t guarantee he knows what to do with it.”
At this point you’d stumbled onto the bus home, and you remember smacking your forehead against the cold glass of the window with a whine at the words pretty dick, your mind already departing on another Yoongi spiral.
Jimin’s peal of laughter rang in your ears. “I’ve never heard you down this bad in my life, good god girl! We just need to get you laid so your fucking brain can work right again.”
“Please,” you’d grunted.
“Alright, I’m coming over tomorrow, and we’re going out.” He’d paused then, and you knew there was more even before he continued. It was like you could hear his evil smile. “And I get to pick your outfit.”
You’re snapped out of the memory as a second dress is tossed your way, this one hitting you square in the face.
“Either the green or this one. You’re still in the doghouse, ma’am,” Jimin reminds you.
You pull the second option up to examine it, already grateful for the softer feel of the material. Jimin loves to put you in shit that you’d never wear— usually dresses that he bought for you, or bullied you into buying. You think you already dress pretty racy when you go out, but Jimin likes to take it to another level, always encouraging you to show more skin, more tits, more ass. He’s definitely responsible for this number even being in your closet: dark burgundy in color, it’s tight, short, and the cutouts leave very little to the imagination.
You whine softly despite yourself. “Do I have to? I’m going to freeze to death.”
Jimin has already moved to sit at your desk, examining his hair in the mirror you use to do your makeup. He’s in one of his favorite going-out shirts, one he claims “makes even the straight boys look twice”, a blue and white striped button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He doesn’t even bother making eye contact with you as he peers at his reflection, fiddling with the silver hoops in his ears. “I dunno. Depends on whether or not you value my friendship.”
You roll your eyes at his dramatics. “I can’t stand you.”
“Will you shut up and put your damn freakum dress on already?” He rummages through your makeup bag without asking until he finds what he’s looking for, a tube of Fenty gloss that he dabs in the center of his bottom lip.
“That is not what freakum dress means,” you say with a laugh as you stand to strip out of your sweats, but he’s already reaching for his phone that’s connected to your Bluetooth speaker, another requirement for the evening in order to keep your friendship intact. Beyoncé starts to blast as you pull your shirt over your head and suck in for dear life.
“So, what exactly is the plan?” You ask as soon as you swallow down another shot, nearly shouting to be heard over the noise of the bar. Jimin made you do a couple in your kitchen before you left, and though you haven’t even been out for an hour, you’re already straddling the line between tipsy and drunk.
He shoots you a look. “Don’t act so innocent, like I haven’t personally seen you go home with random dudes.”
Your gaze flits over the mass of bodies out on the dance floor. “I mean, yeah, but…” You shrug, grimacing slightly. “I don’t know, it’s been a while. And we’re not in college anymore.”
“What about him?” You look back at Jimin and he nods his head behind you. You do your best to be subtle as you glance over your shoulder to see two guys a couple of tables away.
“Which one?”
Jimin makes a face like it’s obvious. “Are you kidding me? The absolutely built daddy with the red hair?”
You examine them more closely, scrunching your nose up a little. He’s cute, big as hell, and you certainly notice his bubble butt in those tight pants. But it just doesn’t feel right. “I don’t know that he’s my type.” When your gaze lands on his friend, dressed in all black, dark hair skimming over his eyes as he leans in to say something, your heart flips in your chest. Now that could work.
Turning back to Jimin to say as much, you realize that he’s already brushing past you. “Well I’m not stupid,” he scoffs, and you scramble to follow after him as he stalks confidently across the room.
He’s already talking to them when you catch up. “Hi boys. Care for some company?”
They glance at each other, and you can tell Jimin’s presence is clearly unexpected but not unwelcome. He wasn’t wrong: nobody can resist him in that damn shirt.
“Sure,” red-haired daddy says with a shy giggle, and you have to bite back a smile. You were not expecting a guy that built to react so softly, and you already know your best friend is going feral on the inside. There is nothing Jimin loves more than a man he can fluster. Especially one who can make him pay for it.
His friend flags down a server and orders a round of shots for the table, then gives you a small wave as Jimin takes the liberty of giving his name and yours. “I’m Kihyun.”
“Hoseok,” Jimin's target is clearly squirming under his intense gaze. “But my friends call me Wonho.”
“Can I be your friend?” Jimin purrs. You’re nearly laughing at how quickly he lost the plot of trying to get you laid, but he’s also such an intense flirt that it nearly works as a wingman maneuver, in its own weird way.
You scoot a little closer to Kihyun as Jimin and Wonho disappear into their own conversation. Up close you can really admire how attractive he is, full lips and a wickedly sharp jawline.
“Hi,” you say with a smile, surprised to find yourself slightly nervous despite the alcohol coursing through your system.
“Hi,” he says back, and he looks like he’s about to say more when the server reappears with a tray of four shots.
“Thanks again for these,” you say as you reach for one, and he waves it off. You glance over at Jimin and Wonho, assuming they might want to toast as a group, but Jimin is already hooking his elbow around Wonho’s ridiculous bicep and making a not-at-all-subtle comment about how big he is, intertwining their arms before they each throw the shot back.
You look at Kihyun again, who is biting his lip nervously, and you can feel your face heat up. You’re no Jimin, so you settle for gently tapping your shot glass against his. “Cheers.”
He echoes the sentiment and you down your drinks simultaneously. You shiver a little as you swallow, but you’ve had enough that you don’t even feel the burn of the alcohol.
“So,” Kihyun’s eyes flit over to Jimin, then return to you. “Do you two come here a lot?”
You shrug. “We rotate. Jimin likes this place more than I do. You?”
He laughs softly. “Not really. Honestly, we’re both homebodies, but we try to get out every so often. Always nice to meet new people.” It’s so quick you nearly miss it, but you swear his eyes jump down your figure and back up again.
You try to ignore the little voice in your head reminding you of another pair of eyes; dark, calculating, wandering over your body. Not now.
“I couldn’t agree more,” you say, because it’s true: a new person is definitely what you need in this moment.
Before you can ask a follow-up question, you hear Jimin, talking loudly so that he’s audible over the music. “Your thighs look so good in those pants!” You have to resist the urge to smack your head against the table when you look over to see him attempting— and absolutely failing— to wrap his small hands around the circumference of Wonho’s leg, who is giggling like a schoolgirl.
You glance back at Kihyun, who is equally enraptured. “I’m so sorry,” you say quietly. “He is unfortunately always like this.”
“You know where else those thighs would look good?” Jimin’s voice lowers as he asks the question, and you watch Kihyun’s eyes go wide.
“Do you want to dance?” You say quickly, and he nods so fast you think his head might fall off. You start to break away from the group, his hand slipping to your waist, when Jimin smacks the table so loud that it makes you jump.
“Hey!” He yells, and you turn back, but he’s pointing at Kihyun, who instantly looks terrified. He leans in, as if to divulge confidential information, and Kihyun takes a tentative step towards him.
“Just so you’re aware,” Jimin starts, and you know it’s going to be bad. “She needs to get dicked down. Severely. Hope you’re ready.”
You close your hand around Kihyun’s wrist and drag him towards the dance floor, eager for a distraction to keep you from murdering your best friend.
Now that you’re actually in motion, you can feel the last couple of shots quickly catching up to you, the room blurring slightly at the edges. At the center of the dance floor, the thudding bass is loud enough to make it hard to think, which is exactly what you need right now.
You’re grateful not to have to force any more conversation, both of Kihyun’s hands slipping to your hips as you start to move in time to the music. It gives you free reign to admire him up close, and damn, he really is gorgeous. He’s only a little taller than you in your heels— probably about the same height as Yoongi, though his frame is slighter, smaller. You watch as his dark hair falls into his eyes again and he reaches up to sweep it off his forehead— Yoongi’s hair is a little longer, and he certainly has much better hands, but other than that—
You have to squeeze your eyes shut when you realize what the fuck you're doing. The whole point of this encounter is to stop thinking about Yoongi. Not pick apart this absolute stranger in comparison to him.
You desperately wish you could get another drink, but you know that would push you all the way into “drunk” territory. As much as you hate admitting it, Jimin was right: you really need to be able to consent to sex tonight. You’re gonna have to get through this the old-fashioned way, with sheer fucking willpower.
“Are you okay?”
Your eyes flutter open to meet Kihyun’s concerned gaze. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just, uh. Thinking about work.” Not a complete lie.
“Well, don’t,” he says with a soft laugh. “It’s the weekend. You should enjoy it.” His hands press a little tighter, pulling you close until your body is flush with his. His breath ghosts over your neck as you hear his voice in your ear. “That dress looks really good on you.”
A different voice echoes in your mind before you can stop it. Spread your legs for me. Show me what’s under that dress. You can’t help but wonder if this is what it feels like to literally go insane, and then you grab Kihyun’s face with both hands and kiss him in a desperate attempt to not think anymore.
You can feel him freeze, clearly not expecting it, but after a second his mouth starts to move against yours. His hands slip further down towards your ass, and fuck, it occurs to you that you are still incredibly horny. You need this to happen as soon as possible.
Pulling away and sliding your hands to Kihyun’s shoulders, you tilt up to speak into his ear. “Do you live near here?”
His eyes go wide for at least the third time tonight. “Y-yeah, not far.” You see his tongue dart out to lick his lips.
“I don’t know how to say this politely,” you admit with an embarrassed smile. “But my friend wasn’t wrong. About… what I need.”
He pauses for a moment, and your stomach twists as you prepare for rejection, the reasonable reaction considering you basically jumped this man like a crazy person. But then he smiles, leaning into you so he can keep his tone soft. “Come on, then.”
You follow Kihyun as he guides you towards the exit, keeping one hand pressed to the small of your back. It’s hard to miss the other half of your group making their way through the crowd— Wonho is large enough that people quickly shrink to get out of his way, but his gaze is entirely transfixed on Jimin’s ass in front of him. You nod in their direction and Kihyun follows as you push past bodies to reunite.
“Are you leaving?!” Jimin asks, and you can only nod. His eyes jump to Kihyun. “I told you, you better give it to her!” He shouts it so loudly that people standing behind him glance over their shoulders, but he is fully unfazed, now brandishing his cellphone. “And I always have her location on, so if you murder her, I will come find you!”
With a roll of your eyes, you lean across the circle so that Wonho can hear you. “Take good care of him, okay?” When you pull away, you swear he’s blushing as red as his hair, and he nods sheepishly.
You turn back to Kihyun. “Ready?”
The door to Kihyun’s apartment barely has time to close behind you before you find his lips with yours again. He presses you up against the wall of the entryway, and you waste no time in moving your hands over his body. His shirt and pants hit the floor in quick succession.
When he reaches for the hem of your dress, you cover his hands with yours to stop him. “Do you— is it okay if I keep it on?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, breathless. “Yeah, okay.”
He kisses you again and you let him guide you backwards through an open door into his bedroom until you feel the mattress hit the backs of your knees. You perch on the edge of the bed and glance around the room, taking it in. It’s clean, if minimally furnished, and your stomach flips when you see a nondescript work desk tucked into one corner.
You look at Kihyun when you feel his hand gently rub your thigh, encouraging you to spread your legs.
“Kihyun?”
“Yeah?”
Your gaze jumps to his desk, then back to him. “Do— uh… Do you think you could bend me over your desk?”
He seems a little dumbfounded, and takes a second to find words. “Wh— I— yeah, yes, I can do that. I just—” he clears his throat. “Do you need, like, foreplay, or…?”
You stand up again, knees shaking slightly. “I’ll tell you what to do, does that work?”
It must, because he kisses you, eventually starting to move towards the desk. When you’ve gotten far enough, you feel him tug at your hips, encouraging you to spin around so your back is flush with his chest. His hand slides up to your shoulders to gently press you forward, and you brace your forearms on the desk, already breathless.
“P-pull my dress up,” you manage to instruct. His hands caress over your thighs, then move to the hem of your dress, pushing up until your ass is fully exposed for him.
Get a good look at that ass you were tempting me with, the voice in your head finishes for you. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on this moment, this man. Not any others.
You look back at Kihyun over your shoulder in an attempt to stay present, spreading your legs a little wider. “Touch me.”
He slowly moves a hand from your thigh up towards your core, and you feel his fingers just barely brush over the fabric of your underwear. The rush of contact after so much anticipation is enough to make you shiver slightly, but his touch is so light, so gentle.
Gentle is not what you need right now.
Keeping yourself held up on one arm, you reach the other behind you to forcefully tug your panties to the side. “Your fingers, Kihyun,” you hiss.
You tip your head forward and swallow down a whine of relief as he presses a digit into you and starts to rub circles. “How’s that?” His voice purrs in your ear, and you whimper as you nod.
It feels good, especially when he adds a second finger, but it’s not enough. He’s too soft, too tentative.
You look back at him again. “Can you spank me?”
You’ve officially lost count of the number of times you’ve surprised this man tonight. “I— what?”
“Like, smack my ass?”
“Like this?” He asks, but you barely feel it when he brings his hand down over your ass.
“Harder,” you say almost instantly, realizing after the fact that you could probably stand to be a little nicer to this random stranger. “Please.”
Kihyun’s second attempt is better, enough to make you groan softly as the sensation of the sting mixes with the movements of his fingers pressing against your front wall. He does it again, harder still, and you wiggle your ass back towards him— you need more, more than his hands can give.
“Kihyun,” you gasp, “want you to fuck me.”
“Yeah? I’ll fuck you right here,” he grunts. At least he seems to be genuinely into it, you think to yourself gratefully. He smacks your ass a final time and you bite down on your lip as he withdraws his fingers. “One second.”
You hear the sound of him opening a drawer somewhere in his room and retrieving a condom, and you let your eyes flutter closed until his hands brush over your hips again.
“Ready?”
“Yes, Kihyun, please,” you beg, your head dropping down onto your forearms. “Please fuck me.” Desire is wound up so tight inside you that you can’t think about anything else; you need this so fucking badly.
He makes a strangled whine as he presses into you, and you move your hips back onto him, gasping slightly at the stretch. “Fuck.”
“God, you feel so fucking good,” Kihyun groans, and he starts to roll into you with steady thrusts that brush the head of his cock right over your g-spot. You push backwards, matching his rhythm, and he’s not wrong: it feels good.
But it’s not enough.
“Harder,” you groan, your voice muffled in the crook of your elbow, and you hear Kihyun grunt as he picks up the pace, hips snapping against your ass. Better, but somehow still not what you need.
“Please, Kihyun,” you encourage again. “Fuck me like a slut.”
“Jesus,” he breathes, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve finally broken him. But then his hand cracks over your ass, hard enough to take you by surprise, and he starts to thrust even faster.
“Is this what you want?” He asks, and his voice is tense, almost angry; something about it makes your walls start to flutter. Your orgasm is so frustratingly close, yet somehow beyond your grasp.
And then you hear that all-too familiar voice in your head. I want to make you come so hard that your legs shake. Before you can help it, you moan a little at the memory. The way Yoongi leveled his gaze on you as he spoke so calmly, in a way that had you believing every single word. You can feel your core starting to tighten at the very thought, and once your brain realizes that’s what will get you there, it’s like the fucking floodgates open.
“Oh fuck,” you groan, and you can hear him grunt in agreement, like he’s close, too.
You’re helpless to stop it now, too desperate to come. Yoongi’s voice, his face, his tongue, his hands, his cock. It’s all you can think of. You gasp as everything inside you tightens and starts to pulse.
“Shit, shit, I’m gonna come,” you whine. So hard that you have no choice but to scream my name as I wreck you, the voice in your head finishes, and you dig your nails into the desk beneath you as you reach your climax.
Your back arches, pleasure washing over you, and you cry out. “Yes, Yoongi, yes!”
There’s a moment where his hips stutter, and then he pushes all the way into you one last time with a grunt of effort as he comes, too. Your heartbeat starts to slow.
And then it occurs to you that the man fucking you is absolutely not named Yoongi, and you smack a hand over your mouth.
“Oh my god,” you say softly, voice muffled, and you remove your hand as you start to straighten up. You can hear Kihyun still breathing heavily behind you, but he’s otherwise silent as he releases his grip on your hips and slides out of you.
“Kihyun,” you turn to watch him cross the room to the en-suite bathroom, where he briefly disappears to dispose of the condom. Face burning with embarrassment, you awkwardly maneuver to readjust your underwear and pull your dress back down over your ass.
When he reappears in the doorway, you try again. “Kihyun, I am so sorry. I—I don’t—” you fumble for what to say, knowing full well you don’t have a good explanation. At least not one that doesn’t make you sound insane.
“It’s cool,” he says, but he’s clearly uncomfortable. “I mean, you know. Shit happens.”
You glance around nervously for your phone before realizing it’s back on the table in the entryway where you tossed it in the throes of passion. You shoot Kihyun a weak smile. “I should— let me call Jimin. I can get a ride home.”
Kihyun laughs dryly. “Yeah, I’m gonna take a wild guess that he might be a little busy. I can take you home. It’s not a big deal.”
As much as your pride wants to refuse, you don’t exactly have a backup plan. “I would really appreciate that,” you murmur.
The drive is silent and painfully awkward, Kihyun turning up the music just loud enough that you get the indication that he doesn’t want to talk. As the lights of the city stream by, you can’t help but wonder how everything got so fucked up.
When Kihyun pulls up to your apartment complex, you indicate where he can drop you off, and he reaches over you as the car slows to a stop to politely open the door.
“Have a good night,” he says firmly, and you can barely manage a word of thanks before you slip out of his car and head up the stairs to die of embarrassment.
Jimin shows up at your door late Sunday afternoon, a takeout bag of haejangguk tucked under one arm, gushing incessantly about the various ways Wonho threw him around all night. It feels like he babbles for an hour, until he finally takes a break to sip from his own container of soup, and prompts you with a raise of his eyebrows.
“Your turn. Was your mission successful?”
You keep your gaze firmly planted on the floor as you recount what happened.
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
~*~
Jimin decides that you’ll try again next weekend, promising he’ll be less distracted. You’re not positive you’ll survive that long. You preemptively text Jungkook asking to take the week off from boxing class - your stomach is such a fucking bundle of nerves that you barely sleep at all Sunday night, and you know the next five days spent in constant fear of running into Yoongi is only going to make it worse.
Those same nerves creep up into your throat when you unlock the doors Monday morning, Jungkook waiting patiently behind you with his hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack.
Dread blooms inside of you as you move to place your purse on your desk, and then you make a split-second decision, spinning back to face Jungkook.
“Hey, JK?” The nickname is unplanned, just sort of comes out, but you see him visibly brighten. “Are there any open desks on your side of the office? I think I need a change of scenery.”
He nods, eyes wide. “Yeah! I’m actually all by myself right now. Sunye is on maternity leave for the rest of the month. You can use her desk.”
You gesture for him to lead the way and he does, heading past the break room and walking backwards down the hallway to keep talking to you. “Is there something wrong with your normal desk? We can always put in a work order.”
“Uh, no,” you scramble, trying to find a good excuse. “It can just be a little distracting, you know. People coming in and out all day. I’ve got a lot of stuff I need to be heads-down on this week.”
The excuse sounds flimsy and false to you, but he seems to buy it. “Yeah, makes sense! I’ll try not to distract you too much.”
He does a full 360-degree spin on his heels as you turn the corner at the end of the hall, and it’s enough to make you laugh softly despite yourself. There’s a small alcove with a desk pressed against either wall, and you don’t even have to ask which one is Jungkook’s. The standing desk is dotted with tell-tale signs of Baby Star Candy: an empty shaker cup, a mini tub of protein powder, several fidget toys tucked beneath his monitor. A small collage of polaroids is taped to the wall where you see him smiling with friends, throwing up a peace sign in nearly every single one.
Sunye’s desk is mostly empty, save for a few framed photos of her with her husband and two young kids. You drop your purse down and take a seat as Jungkook chucks his backpack under his desk, both of you reaching to retrieve your laptops.
Outlook hasn’t even loaded before he’s turned around and talking to you again. “So how was your weekend?”
You grimace reflexively at memories you’d rather forget, and Jungkook misinterprets the look. “Oh, sorry, no distractions. I’ll be quiet.”
“No, no,” you shake your head. “It’s not you. My weekend was fine. What about yours?”
He laughs, looking a little embarrassed. “I mean, honestly? I’m super addicted to this new mobile game that just came out. I feel like I blinked and lost two days.” He’s already reaching for his cellphone. “Want to see?” You roll your chair across to his side of the room as Jungkook leans over to show you the little island world he’s nearly 500 levels into. After a few minutes, he seems to remember himself.
“Shit, you specifically said you came here to focus. I’m sorry, I really will leave you alone now.”
You bite down on your bottom lip. “No, it’s okay, JK. I— honestly, I wasn’t being entirely truthful when I said that. I don’t mind the distraction at all, actually. It’s kind of complicated, but… it would be nice if I could hide out here for the foreseeable future.”
He looks at you, clearly surprised. “Of course. Whatever you need. Is everything okay?”
You wince a little, with no idea how to answer that question.
His voice drops. “Is it Suga?”
“It’s complicated.” You repeat with a sigh.
An unfamiliar emotion flashes in Jungkook’s eyes. You’ve never seen him angry before, but you’d guess this is what it looks like. “Hey, seriously, if he’s being aggressive with you, we should do something about it. Report it or something.”
You have to suppress the urge to laugh in his face. Like Yoongi being aggressive with you isn’t exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about for days.
“No, it’s not like that,” you reassure him. “I think we’re just two people who are better off kept apart from each other. That’s all.”
Jungkook nods slowly, and it’s clear from his expression that he wants to pry more, but is forcing himself not to. “Okay.”
There’s a heaviness of unasked and unanswered questions in the air, but the two of you manage to lapse into corporate smalltalk as you roll back over to your desk and dive into your workday.
Jungkook eventually has to peel off for a few virtual meetings, and watching him work is its own source of entertainment. If it’s a meeting that requires his focus, you can tell because he leans in close to his monitor, staring at spreadsheets or data visualizations with a look on his face like he’s using every single brain cell he owns.
You can also tell when he’s put on calls where he clearly isn’t needed, because he’ll spin in a full circle at his desk with a glazed over look in his eye. There are even a few times where you glance up to see him silently doing what you vaguely recognize as TikTok dances, and you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from outright laughing.
The day rolls on, and you’re neck deep in drafting a communication when Jungkook’s voice breaks your concentration. “Do you like ramyeon?”
Your head snaps up to see him lean down under his desk to grab his backpack. He unzips it to retrieve two containers of instant noodles, and when he offers one to you, you give an approving nod. “I usually bring two in case I get extra hungry. I’ll make it, come meet me in the break room when you finish what you’re doing.”
You genuinely believe him on the first day, but when he just so happens to bring a second lunch on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, you start to get a little suspicious.
Friday has you stuck on a working session straight through your usual lunch hour, and Jungkook disappears without a word, returning as you’re pulling your headset off with two to-go salads in a plastic bag.
“I ordered one, and they gave me two. Crazy, right?”
You quirk an eyebrow at him to signal that you don’t believe a damn word, but you still thank him as you follow him down the hall to the break room.
“You’re coming out tonight, right?” He asks over lunch, and it takes you a second to remember the planned happy hour your boss has scheduled for the office. You’re torn between never wanting to see the inside of a bar again, and the overwhelming desire to drink as much as you can on the company’s dime. Ideally enough to obliterate the brain cells that store your memories of last weekend.
In the end, your cheapness wins out. Plus, given that it’s a social work event, you’d bet your entire salary that Yoongi will be nowhere to be found. You figure it might actually prove to be a good distraction. “Sure, yeah. At least for a couple drinks.”
“Cool,” Jungkook smiles a little as he spears a piece of chicken on his plastic fork. “Let me know when you’re done for the day, we can head over together.”
As much as you’d like to blow off early, a phone call that was supposed to take fifteen minutes ends up lasting over an hour. You mute your headset briefly to give a loud sigh, and shoot Jungkook a silent pout in apology when he meets your gaze, but he just flips his phone around to show you the progress he’s making on his island. At least he’s good at keeping himself entertained, you think with a smile.
Finally the person leading the call seems to come to the extremely delayed realization that no one is going to make any more progress on the issue after 5 PM on a Friday, and things wrap up pretty quickly after that. You and Jungkook gather your things and head for the front, and the office is a ghost town.
Your eyes drift down the opposite hallway towards the Genius Lab, your pulse quickening a little. You’ve checked the lab every evening this week and have luckily only found it empty, but you’re nearly an hour ahead of schedule today. And you don’t exactly have a great track record with Yoongi when it comes to Fridays.
“I should probably…”
“I can do it,” Jungkook cuts in softly. You’re hit with the automatic urge to say no, to shield him from this chaos in any way you can. But it would be really nice to not have to deal with Yoongi for one fucking day.
“I would appreciate that,” you reply, and Jungkook is already striding down the hall. You pretend to busy yourself on your phone as you hear a knock, then the electronic beeps of him punching the code into the door lock. When you glance up, you see him push the door open and stick his head inside, then promptly close it again.
“He’s gone. Let’s get out of here.”
The bar your boss has chosen is only a few blocks away from the office, and Jungkook holds the door open for you to enter first when you arrive. You don’t see your group right when you first walk in, and you have to round a bend in the layout of the building before you spot the long table of familiar faces.
You move to take a step forward, but Jungkook nearly imperceptibly brings a hand to your elbow to stop you. He says nothing, which is unlike him, and you start to ask a question.
“Wh—” the words die in your mouth when you see Yoongi smiling politely into a glass of whiskey, seated at the table next to your boss. His gaze flickers up to meet yours. Your stomach twists as you watch the smile immediately drop off his face.
“We can go,” Jungkook says quickly, but you know you can’t give him the satisfaction.
“It’s fine,” you say, and it comes out a little more harsh than you mean it to. “We don’t have to sit near him.” Jungkook follows your lead to the opposite end of the table. When you take your seats, he almost immediately gets sucked into a conversation with some of the audio engineers. You do your best to at least act like you’re following along, but it feels like the room is spinning despite the fact that you’re entirely sober.
That absolutely needs to change, you quickly determine. You’re sitting at the corner of the table, so it’s easy enough to slip out and get to your feet. Jungkook glances up when you do.
“I’ll be right back,” you say, and your tone must be direct enough that he doesn’t ask any follow-up questions or offer his company. Which is fine, you think to yourself as you cross the room. You’re perfectly capable of walking to the bar and ordering a drink on your own.
At least it feels that way until you sweep your gaze across the room, waiting on a bartender to acknowledge your presence, and realize Yoongi is headed straight towards you, empty glass in hand.
Fuck fuck fuck.
You set your jaw, determined not to let him smell your fear, and renew your conviction to flag someone down and get a drink as fast as possible. When Yoongi takes a seat at the barstool next to you, you will your face not to react. But you’re not quite fast enough to remember to tell your mouth to stay shut, too.
“What are you doing here?” You snap, refusing to look him in the eye.
“I wanted to talk to you,” he says, voice even, and you blink hard. You don’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that. “I figured an event with free alcohol was a good place to start. Let’s hope no one wore their good shoes tonight.”
Setting your jaw has turned into fully gritting your teeth, and you’ve never been more grateful to see a bartender when one approaches. You order quickly, and see Yoongi silently lift his empty glass as a request in your periphery.
“What do you want, Yoongi?”
When he hums and doesn’t respond right away, you glance over to see him running a finger around the rim of his finished drink. Just his fucking hand is enough to send a shiver up your spine, and you tear your gaze away.
“Well, for one, I honestly have to say I was surprised when HR didn’t personally escort me out of the building Monday morning.”
Your head snaps up to look at him again as you parse out his meaning. “Really?”
Yoongi’s gaze meets yours, his brows slightly pinching together as if he’s surprised that you’re surprised. “Uh, yeah.”
You’re so shocked it takes you a minute to form words. “I— I mean, it’s not like it was unprovoked.”
He makes a face as if he’s considering it, shrugging a little. “I suppose.”
As you drop your gaze to the wood grain of the bar, you can’t help but wonder if that was meant to be an apology. You barely have time to process that thought before the bartender returns, setting your drinks down, and you reach for yours like a woman dehydrated. When you take a sip, it’s strong— exactly what you need in this moment.
You’re already halfway off the barstool, very ready to get back to your seat at the table, when Yoongi speaks up again.
“Do you want to hear a funny story?” Something in his tone makes you pause, and he keeps going.
“I heard from an old friend a few days ago. We used to be really close, but lately I don’t think we’ve talked in…” He shakes his head in disbelief, like he’s trying to think. “God, probably years. I’ve been so focused on work. You know how I get.”
You physically recoil at his strange candor, how comfortable he suddenly is with implying that you know him. Your stomach is already starting to turn, though you can’t put a finger on why. It just feels like he’s playing with you.
Yoongi rolls his glass between his palms as he continues. “So you know, we catch up, ask how life is going, all the usual shit. And then my friend— Kihyun, that’s his name— Kih starts telling me about this crazy hookup he had last weekend.”
You nearly drop your drink as your blood runs cold. Yoongi continues the charade, pretending like he’s telling you something you don’t already know first-hand.
“He said he got approached by this super hot girl out of nowhere, and that she was fucking desperate for it. Barely said two words to him before she was asking him to take her home. And once he did, he said the sex was wild. I mean, it definitely sounded great to me when he gave me the play-by-play.” He pauses for a moment, and when he speaks again, there’s a new tone to his voice, almost aggressive. “Straight out of one of my own fantasies, really.”
You take a nervous gulp of your drink in hopes that it might help cool down your burning face— whether it’s from shame or rage, you can’t tell.
“And get this.” Yoongi’s voice is grave now, all pretense of telling a funny story gone as he turns to fully face you. “You’re never gonna believe whose name she cried out when she came. Because it sure wasn’t Kih’s.”
The shock of his words, at the fact that he knows this, is enough to freeze you where you stand. You’re nearly shaking with the chaotic storm of emotions swirling in your brain, and it takes every ounce of willpower you can muster to keep your voice steady as you fix him in your gaze. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business who or how I fuck, Yoongi.”
“Oh, I think it’s absolutely my business when you’re calling them my fucking name. And I don’t understand why you’d settle for imitation when you could have the real thing.” Despite how livid you are, you don’t miss the way your pussy flutters at the smug look on his face.
“Maybe it’s because your friend doesn’t come with all the strings attached that you do.”
“Strings?” He quirks an eyebrow. “I wasn’t planning on dating you, sweetheart.”
You can’t believe how dense he is, and you slam your drink down on the bar. “No, Yoongi, but you’re my fucking coworker. Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘don’t shit where you eat’?” He chuckles dryly into the rim of his glass. “It’s a bad fucking idea.”
He examines you as he takes a sip of whiskey, then finally speaks again. “Here’s the way I see it. We are both sane, consenting adults, very capable of being rational about this.” You scoff in disbelief at how calmly he can say such a thing as you take another long pull from your drink. “There’s obviously a lot of pent-up feelings going on. I’m not saying we have to be friends. Hell, we don’t even have to like each other. Sometimes it’s more fun when you don’t.”
Not expecting that commentary, you nearly choke on the ice in your glass. Yoongi gives you a moment to recover before continuing.
“It seems to me like we could establish something that would be mutually beneficial. Get some of that energy out. If anything, I think it might help both of us actually focus on our work, and that would in turn benefit everyone. It’d certainly be a lot better than the two of us running around like a couple of horny teenagers the way we have been lately. It’s not a purely selfish thing.”
You hate that his stupid logical argument makes sense to you. You hate it so much that you finish your drink in one swallow.
“Look, I’ll make it easy for you,” he says, eyes locked on you, his voice dropping into a lower register. The tone immediately takes you back to the last time you were in his lab. The things he said to you. The things he wanted to do to you. Heat pools in your belly before you can tell it not to.
“I’m going to head back to the group. You get yourself another drink, come join us, and take some time to think about it.”
He leans in to speak the next part directly into your ear, his voice quiet. Every nerve ending in your body lights up at the feeling of his breath against your neck. “Then I’m going to get up and go to the restroom. I’ll give you three minutes to discreetly excuse yourself and join me. If you don’t show, I’ll drop all of this and leave you alone. Promise.”
Yoongi pulls away, shooting you that trademark smirk, knowing full well that he doesn’t have to explain what will happen if you do decide to join him. He already has. Then he slips off the barstool, glass of whiskey in hand, and strides back towards the table.
When you order the next round, you ask for a double.
You do your best to act like the world isn’t ending as you return to your seat at the table. The conversation continues around you, without you; you can only stare dumbly at the empty space between two of your coworkers as you take a long swig of your drink. You’re vaguely aware of discussions of upcoming mixtapes and the Grammy’s, but your brain can’t process anything over the roaring in your ears, the pounding of your heartbeat in your gut— and a little lower.
You feel insane, enraged, and deliriously aroused.
You have no concept of how quickly time is passing, no clue if it’s been an instant or an hour when you see movement from the other end of the table out of the corner of your eye. There’s no self-control left in your system to keep your jaw from going slack, to keep you from unabashedly watching as Yoongi gets up from the table and strides confidently across the bar toward the restroom. He doesn’t so much as glance in your direction.
“Are you alright?”
You whip around at Jungkook’s voice, having completely forgotten there was anyone else in the room. It takes a second for you to snap your mouth shut, and then you realize you have to open it to answer his question.
“I— uh—” You can barely string a sentence together. “My drink is really strong.”
“Do you need some water?”
When you nod, he’s up in a flash, heading towards the bar, and you realize as you watch him disappear that it might have been a bad idea to let yourself be left alone. Because now you have no distraction from the way every cell in your body is screaming at you.
It’s obvious that there is a right choice and a wrong choice here. And you’ve tried so hard, for so long, to be smart. To deny the truth, to say no and go home, to channel the energy out in any other way. But none of it has worked. You still want this terrible man to do terrible things to you, maybe now more than ever. And you’re so fucking tired of making the right choice.
So tonight, you resolve with a final sip of your drink, you’ll make the wrong one. Fuck it.
You slip away from the table before Jungkook returns, following the same path Yoongi did towards the back of the bar. When you reach for the handle of the restroom door, your pulse is racing, enough that you nearly jump out of your skin when the door swings open before you can even touch it. You glance up to find yourself face-to-face with an equally shocked looking Yoongi.
“Your three minutes are up,” he says dryly. Rather than bother with a response, you bring your hand to his chest and firmly shove him back inside the single stall room. You hear him laugh a little as you follow after, pulling the knob and turning the lock into place behind you.
When he takes a step toward you, there’s nowhere for you to go except flush against the door. You watch his eyes drop down your body and back up, taking his time, shameless. His gaze lingers on your mouth.
“Didn’t think you’d really do it,” he murmurs, eyes glinting.
“Call it a lapse in judgment.”
There’s something about the situation that makes you feel like Yoongi has the upper hand— like he expects every part of this to go according to his plan. That, you decide, simply will not do. And then you drop to your knees in front of him.
“Oh my god,” Yoongi breathes, taking a small step back to give you room. “You’re a whore.”
You do your best to shoot a death glare up at him. “I don’t have to do this.”
He smirks. “I meant it as a compliment, honestly. Respectfully.”
That’s it. You’re determined to suck that smug fucking look off his face. “Hands to yourself,” you say firmly. “If you touch me, this all ends.”
Yoongi’s eyes widen, as if he wasn’t expecting you to be giving any orders. But then he nods, raising both hands in the air as if to indicate compliance. You lower your gaze and realize he’s already straining against the fabric of his joggers, which do nothing to hide how hard he is, the thin material clinging to every inch.
In one swift motion, you tug both his pants and boxers down his hips, and you have to actively suppress a soft sigh of appreciation. Yoongi’s ego doesn’t need any more feeding, but damn, his dick is even better up close: long, pale, and pretty.
Glancing back up at him, you maintain eye contact as you lean forward to teasingly trace your tongue along one of the prominent veins that runs the length of his shaft. His eyes are dark with lust as he watches you. Despite being on your knees, a thrill of sheer power runs through you when you see him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple jerking in his throat.
It occurs to you that you are extremely ready to torture this man.
When you reach the tip, you just barely slide your lips over it in an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock, your tongue swirling in sloppy circles. You can hear Yoongi breathing now, clearly trying and failing to suppress his shaky exhales at your work.
Tilting your head to find the right angle, you take more of him into your mouth, then bring a hand to his shaft to guide the head of his dick to one side. You don’t miss the quiet groan you elicit from him as you let him press against the soft wall of your cheek to create a bulge. He makes the same sound again, louder, when you rub your tongue firmly along the underside of his shaft while you do it.
His hips jerk under your touch as you start to move the hand wrapped around him in slow, deliberate strokes. You recenter him in your mouth and bob your head along his length in time, now sucking firmly. Yoongi’s breath catches on a moan as you keep your tongue pressed tight to his shaft and match the movement of your head to the deliciously slow pace of your hand.
The sound only encourages you, and you lean forward to take even more of him until his cock briefly brushes against the back of your throat. You hold him there for a second, then swallow.
“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses. You can feel him twitch a little in your mouth, taste it as he leaks precum onto your tongue. You tip back for a few more shallow thrusts, just tormenting him, then repeat the action, humming this time as he hits your throat. His knees nearly buckle.
You glance up at Yoongi as you pull back again, lashes fluttering, and you have to keep yourself from laughing around his cock at the look of pure distress on his face. Now that you’re watching him, you realize his hands are flexing desperately at his sides— it’s clearly taking everything in his power to follow your no touching policy.
Good, you think, and then you lean forward to swallow him down and keep him there, taking as much as you can until your nose is nearly flush with his pelvis. You bob your head, guiding him up and down your throat, choking slightly but too determined to stop even as your eyes start to water.
“Oh my god,” you hear him groan, and your eyebrows raise at the sound of a loud smack. When you look up, still working him in your throat, you realize that he’s helplessly banged a fist on the bathroom door and is now bracing himself against it. You watch as he rakes his other hand through his hair, his head tipping back with a gasp as you increase your pace in response. His hips shudder as he starts to buck softly into your mouth. “Y-yeah, keep doing that, oh fuck, fuck—”
At what feels like the last possible second, you pull off his cock with a soft, wet pop, swallowing down the precum in your mouth. You wipe at the corners of your lips before getting to your feet, legs shaking a little more than you’d like from how long you’ve been on your knees. As you meet his gaze, now at eye-level, it seems you’ve certainly achieved your mission: Yoongi’s usual smug appearance has been replaced with a look of frustrated desperation, courtesy of one denied orgasm.
“Why should I let you get off that easy?” You ask simply, and he makes a noise low in his throat, something between a groan and a laugh.
“Fuck, you are such a bitch.” He advances towards you, and you find yourself backing up, this time until your ass is pressed against the countertop of the bathroom sink. He’s staring at your mouth again, looking at it with what seems to be a little more reverence now that he knows what it’s capable of.
“Am I allowed to touch you yet?” His voice is so low, his mouth so close to yours, that it makes your core ache. The noises you sucked out of him have unfortunately only turned you on even more. “Or are you going to make me beg?”
As much as you’d love to see that, the desperate throb that’s been steadily building between your legs has now overtaken your desire to tease. “Yes, Yoongi, you can touch me.”
The words have barely left your mouth and his hands are already on your hips, firmly spinning you around. You have to clutch the edge of the countertop just to stay upright, but you only feel yourself getting that much wetter at the rough way he handles you. You shiver as he shoves the hem of your dress up to expose your ass, and you can’t help yourself, leaning forward to give him the best possible angle, too desperate for anything less.
“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, and you’d swear he almost sounds appreciative.
You don’t even have time to process that thought before his hand cracks down over your ass, so hard that it nearly knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You inhale a shaky gasp, your mind reeling in its attempt to catch up, but Yoongi is already pulling your panties to the side, perfect fingers sliding between your folds. There’s no hiding how drenched you are; your upper thighs are starting to stick together with arousal.
Without warning, he presses two fingers firmly into you, and it’s enough to make your jaw go slack. You outright moan when they find purchase against your g-spot, rubbing in tight, expert circles. He could make you come right now if he wanted to.
“You’re so wet for me,” Yoongi’s voice is low and smug, and you don’t need to see his expression to know that cocky smirk has returned to his face. “Been ready for it all night, huh?” You whimper a noise that isn’t disagreement.
“Good,” he says firmly, pairing the word with another smack to your ass. You’re too far gone to try and hold it back now, not with the way his fingers are working inside you, and you moan again. “Because we can’t take too long,” Yoongi continues. “Don’t want anyone getting suspicious. Which is really a damn shame, because there’s so much I want to do to you.”
When he smacks your ass one more time, even harder, and couples it with an insistent press of his fingers against your front wall, you have to grip the edge of the sink for dear life. Your cunt squeezes around him; the noise you make is practically a sob.
He huffs a laugh as he withdraws his fingers, and you glance up to see him retrieving a condom from his pocket and tearing it open. “Wrecked already? And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
You try to compose yourself, but just watching the way his hands work as he rolls the condom over his leaking cock has you aching, clenching around nothing. You really are fucking wrecked— nothing has ever come close to this.
Yoongi’s hands come to your hips, pads of his fingers digging into your skin, and you feel the head of his cock against your entrance, sliding lazily through your folds but purposefully not pressing into you.
“Yoongi,” you whine. You’re too far gone for this teasing.
“You have to tell me what you want,” he says, his voice dark.
You can barely even think a sentence, and you try to push back on him instead, but he keeps you held firmly in place, hands squeezing into the flesh of your hips. “Tell me,” he insists.
“I want you to fuck me,” you manage, and you look up to meet his gaze in the bathroom mirror.
He licks his lips, and you realize that he’s having just as hard a time restraining himself. “That much is obvious,” he says, and you can hear the unsteadiness in his voice now. “How would you like to get fucked?”
You’ve had enough alcohol to brazenly tell the truth. “Like you hate me.”
It may be the first genuine smile of his you’ve ever seen.
“Gladly,” he replies, and then he thrusts all of himself into you at once. You collapse forward on the countertop, crying out at the feeling.
“Yeah,” Yoongi grunts, a little breathless. “You like that?” He pulls nearly all the way out and slams into you one more time, pressing his hips flush with your ass until you feel overwhelmingly full. Then he starts to properly thrust, moving at a pace that can only be described as ruthless.
“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, your head dropping down as you scramble to brace yourself against the counter. You practically yelp when his hand cracks over your ass again.
He leans forward; you can feel his chest graze over your back, his hips still snapping into you as he grabs your jaw with one hand and forces your gaze up to look at him in the mirror again. You watch as he runs two fingers along your bottom lip in an unasked question. You let your jaw go slack to allow him to slip into your mouth.
When your lips close around his fingers, you find yourself a little grateful to have something to keep you grounded to reality. Your eyes flit up to Yoongi’s face, and his gaze is piercing, eyes totally fixed on you.
“You look so good like this.” His voice is hoarse, strained from effort, and he continues to drive into you, never slowing. Your own hip bones dig into the bathroom counter, shocks of pleasure-pain rippling through you with each thrust. Little moans and whimpers spill out from your mouth around his fingers at the sensation, and you can feel your climax starting to build.
Yoongi withdraws from your mouth, that same hand moving down your body to slip into your panties and circle your clit, earning a gasp from you. His other hand keeps a death grip on your hip as he thrusts, and he straightens up again, the head of his cock now rubbing so perfectly over your g-spot that you hiss.
“Did Kihyun fuck you like this?”
The question catches you off-guard. “N-no,” you gasp, and the hot coil of your arousal tightens in your core. Yoongi’s cock stroking into you, his hand working your clit, the feeling is overwhelming, dizzying. “Oh, god.” Your head presses into your forearm as you give yourself over to the pleasure. You can only distantly hear Yoongi’s voice continue, somewhere between coaxing and demanding.
“I didn’t fucking think so. So why don’t you say it? Tell me who fucks you right. Tell me who you fucking hate.”
The fingers on your clit are unrelenting now, and your edge approaches fast and hard.
“Y-Yoongi,” you breathe, and it feels too good to say his name and mean it. “Yoongi, fuck, Yoongi.” A loud moan rips through you as your legs start to shake. “Oh fuck,” you gasp, “I’m coming, fuck, yes—” You nearly sob as your climax hits you hard, and your walls flutter around Yoongi’s cock over and over in what feels like an endless orgasm.
The pleasure rolls through you, and you look up in the mirror to see Yoongi grit his teeth as he picks up the pace of his hips. A look of desperation paints his face, not unlike the way he looked when you were blowing him, and you know he must be close.
“God fucking damnit,” he grunts, each word punctuated with a thrust, and then he tips his head back and pushes all the way into you with a moan as he comes.
For a moment he pauses like that, gazing up at the ceiling, chest heaving with effort as his dick twitches inside of you. “Holy shit,” he breathes, and then he starts to laugh softly in what appears to be disbelief. “Fuuuuck.”
You haven’t fully recovered, so you can only watch, still gripping the countertop for dear life, as he slips the condom off, chucks it into the trash can, and pulls his boxers and pants up. He gives his reflection a once-over in the mirror, running a hand through his hair, and you’re amazed at how quickly he’s put himself back together. The only indication that he was literally just railing you is the way he’s breathing heavily.
Yoongi notices you watching him and gives your ass one more firm slap, hard enough that you flinch a little.
“Wait a minute or two before you head out,” he instructs, and you nod dumbly. He crosses the room, opens the door, and slips out, all before you can even so much as think a coherent thought.
It takes several more minutes for you to get your shit together, but you eventually manage to readjust your underwear and smooth your dress down, though your legs are certainly still unsteady when you make your way back to the table. You can’t help but shoot a glance over at Yoongi as you pass, and you’re shocked to see him laughing and chatting it up with the group of coworkers seated around him. You see clear expressions of surprise on their faces, too— because he’s never like this. Except, apparently, mere minutes after fucking you.
You don’t even bother to sit down, instead grabbing your purse off the table and slinging the straps over your shoulder.
“Wow, there you are,” Jungkook’s voice drags you out of your thoughts, and the look of concern on his face just makes your stomach turn. You genuinely have no idea how long you were gone for. “Are you okay? Your face looks flushed.”
You don’t know how to answer his question, so you don't. “I think I’m gonna go home.”
“Do you need a ride?”
You shake your head quickly. “I’ll call a friend.”
Perched on the curb outside, you clutch your phone for dear life as you pull up Jimin’s contact to call him. The line rings and you realize you’re shivering; you don’t think it has anything to do with the weather.
You don’t even give him a chance to say hello when the call connects. “Can you come get me?”
He groans on the other end of the line. “Why? I already took my pants off for the night.”
“Baby mochi, please.” You whine, but you know only the full explanation will get him out of bed. You drop your voice a little. “I just hatefucked Suga in the bathroom at the company happy hour. I need you to come pick me up immediately.”
Jimin’s apartment is a ten minute drive away, but you swear he makes it in five.
“Well, well, well,” Your best friend’s voice is smug as you slide into his passenger seat. “If it isn’t the company whore.”
“Shut the fuck up, Jimin.”
~*~
Come Monday morning, you’re racing down the hallway to the conference room, quietly cursing yourself for being late. You’d seen the email from your boss moving the usual Tuesday pull-up to first-thing Monday, but then you’d gotten so tied up with other projects you’d forgotten about it entirely. It was only once you were in the break room, trying to get your caffeine fix in, that you’d glanced up at the wall clock and realized it was already ten after.
Focused as you are on getting to the meeting quickly— and just as importantly, not spilling any of your coffee— you’re completely unaware of your surroundings until it’s too late. You nearly smack directly into Yoongi as you approach the conference room simultaneously.
He smirks as you jump back in surprise. “We have got to stop meeting like this.”
It’s the first time you’ve seen him since Friday; you’ve been hiding out in Baby Star Candy’s corner all morning. “We’re late,” you say, flustered enough to state the obvious, and he shrugs like he can’t disagree.
“I got distracted.”
Yoongi must notice the way your eyes start to widen. “With work,” he clarifies quickly. He reaches around you to place a hand on the conference room door, and you hear his voice low in your ear. “Amazing how much easier it is to focus today, huh?”
Straightening up to put some space between you, he pushes the door open and gestures for you to go first. You swallow hard and try to keep your composure as you enter the room, briefly apologizing for being late. Yoongi follows behind you silently, slumping into the open seat across the table. You take a sip of your coffee to settle your nerves, which turns out to be a horrible idea when your boss speaks.
“There they are, perfect timing. You’re the very two people my next announcement concerns.”
You just barely manage to keep your drink in your mouth. When your gaze flits to Yoongi across from you, he looks similarly shell-shocked. You can’t help but wonder if you’re about to get fired in front of the entire team.
“We’ve managed to secure funding for the Grammy’s at the end of the month,” your boss says brightly. “We’ll be flying Suga out to do a press circuit as well as attend the award show and surrounding events in-person. We think it will be a great opportunity to network with American artists, try to get his name out there and work on our international appeal.”
“And of course,” your boss’ gaze lands on you, “we all know that our Suga isn’t the most extroverted, or good with schedules, for that matter. We figured he needs a wrangler, and who better than our very own admin?”
You swear your heart stops beating. Your boss keeps going, reminding the team to connect with you about temporarily taking back any deliverables you’ve been handling while you’ll be out of pocket for Grammy’s weekend and subsequent travel time, but you barely process a word. This can’t be happening.
An entire weekend of forced professionalism, in Los Angeles, with the man you just hatefucked in a bathroom. What could possibly go wrong?
chapter four | masterlist | chapter six
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SCARS DEATH. THE DESERT DUO OF OT ALL. THE THIRD LIFE FLASHBACKS “it’s the ultimate betrayal”-G “you can’t just shoot a man in the back” -S “course I can” -G
Also Grian was starting to apologize- season one vibes but he goes “I’m s-“ and when he hears scar say you can’t do this- he changes his mind says he can LIKE- AHHH
Also the last thing scar hears before dying is G yelling “gotta go” which I know was in like a joke ish tone but THE ANGST POTENTIAL
Afkshskvdjajdhakdhiahdjqltusvxekakxtaldvjdjdgwudjgsjsbfhwidjhaidhskhduakdhjsbdvksksjdjakhd
“We’ve learned never turn our back on grian” ON THE FLOOR CRYING PUNCHING MY PILLOW AH who cares if he was just chillin in spectator mode the animatic people can do a lot with this.
These grown ass adults sitting behind their computers controlling little blocks have altered my fucking brain chemistry I can’t even- the block people are everything to me. Like I thought the canary curse and Joel’s response made go insane but this. THIS.
I don’t think I will get over limited life any time soon like all the 3rd life and double life parallels- even some last life moments I just- AHFSSKJH
Also here are more details that made me loose my mind in this section
-scar was behind grian while watching the chaos when he died even though he was cheering for everyone G was separate and he was near G
-Cleo died almost immediately after scar and the clockers were officially dead
- just scar mention getting shot/stabbed in the back at their little family reunion in the sky I-
-scar eagerly watching Grians death only to watch him walk away safe with a member of his own “family”. Also not to take away from the moment but scar writing dad i want to kill you now in the chat was hilarious to me idk why
-from Grians perspective early on: I was gonna cut scar some slack, but not anymore
- also in Grian’s perspective you can actually hear him say I’m sorry before the I’m s- and it’s so third life I can’t even
-“I did scar so dirty there- it was- he was- he had his back turned”
-Also the two of them goofing off in the sky in the end just funny and cute reunion
Also grian kept mentioning how he was lost without his bad boys(so real), but even though he had made an alliance, he spent around half of his episode focusing on scar and his team until they were gone. HAGSJAHHSKAGDJA Also, the fact that he is now a nosy neighbor which has BIGB of all people, and yet he does a 180 from double life and focuses on scar like AHH. and I could go into a whole side thing about sky sibling but not the time. Also don’t even get me started on grians “I can rebuild” moment and him running out of materials and clinging to he bad boys as his time ticks down because that can be a whole other ramble post. THIS is just my dessert duo brainworms lmfao
Time to listen to tongues and teeth on repeat for the s1 and s3 feels
If you actually read all that thanks for listening to my word vomit. :))
I will probably end up with lots more ramble posts when I finish all my usual perspectives so buckle in
EDIT: APPARENTLY GRIAN SAID “you gotta go” THATS SO MUCH WORSE/BETTER AJDHAKSHGAHAHSJ
#grian#limited life#gtwscar#desert duo#limited life finale#traffic smp#life smp#traffic smp parallels#i still want desert duo angst#desert duo parallels#scarian#your honor im obsessed#im just going to patiently wait for the angsty anamatics to feed my life smp brain rot especially with these idiots#also people have been bringing up how scar is a master actor and they are so right it’s actually insane#thank you for coming to my ted talk
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Gary from Bully with shy fem (if u wanna add: Slavic) reader please? :-) a few headcanons would be really appreciated. Just someone who’s not into fighting and doesn’t risk at all
Thank u in advance, dear. Hope you’re having a good day/night so far :-) <3
Thank you!!! So I’ll imply their Slavic as I am not Slavic but I will imply it! Also went with a platonic approach
TW/CW:Gary himself, Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship, abusive relationship, abusive behavior, I am not slavic myself and will just be implying they are for anon!, Gary being the shit out of people, Gary forcing you to pretend to be his sister, Someone getting beat up(it’s bullworths), basing all of Reader’s shyness off of me being shy and having social anxiety!, Insults, degrading(It’s gary), tell me if I need to add anything
Summary:We all can go a LITTLE crazy for our family every once and a while even if they aren’t related to us by blood! That doesn’t mean we don’t love them even if they don’t believe that! We just gotta ENGRAVE that in their tiny little brains! :)
-You two definitely grew up together so your pretty used to his bullshit and all his insane behavior. You just don’t say anything as he’s your first ‘long’ friend
-He definitely made sure you call him brother when others ask about your relationship as he’s the only man who’ll ever care about you in any significant way so just do what he says! No it doesn’t matter that your Slavic and he’s not he’s still your brother!
-he’ll be less rude to you but that doesn’t mean your safe, he’ll call you rude names or make cruel jokes about you but if he sees it really got to you he’ll give a half assed apology
-No your not allowed to date, he won’t let you date anyone at all! If you do they have to meet a list of acquirements they have to meet to even go on a DATE with you (which surprisingly only Jimmy fits…just don’t let him know that or he’ll add more shit)
-If he sees someone trying to fight you he immediately joins in. “Listen I’ll cut to the shit, get the HELL away from MY sister or I’m going to shove that nerds glasses so FAR UP YOUR ASS YOUR PUKING THEM OUT FOR MONTHS! NOW GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY DUMB SISTER!” He’ll then lead you away while ranting about how ‘he’s the only person who’ll ever do anything for you and that you should just rely on him!’
-Definitely uses the fact your jealous to his advantage as your to shy to communicate to anyone you don’t trust so he just makes some lies about everyone so that you only have him left!
-He’s always around you but if he can’t he has eyes everywhere so don’t think your safe! He knows every little thing you’ll do!
#✉️mail arrived✉️#genderfluid enity answers!#yandere#please don’t do this#obession#unhealthy#platonic yandere#yandere platonic#female reader#yandere x female reader#yandere bully#bully x reader#bully game x reader
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How about something fluffy fluff where they have been in a situationship/fwb for a few years, both thinking the other one doesn't want anything serious, but irl both are insanely in love with each other and pining, until finally one of them cracks and confesses.
Your drabbles bring me so much joy, thank you. You should also continue the wife-gary saga.
I WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING DUMB AND SILLY AND FLUFFY BUT OHHHH NO. MY BRAIN HAD OTHER IDEAS. Obviously the other day I was like 'in the wife-gary saga they were fwb who spent lockdown together' and so I wanted to write that but then it hit me just like. just what an Ordeal the lockdowns were and how insane it made everyone. So this came out less 'silly fluff' and a lot more 'earnest pining'. oops?
Also I've mentioned this on the carraville discord but did u guys know Gary and Jamie were literally together when the lockdowns first got announced like they literally watched the broadcast together then like. had to immediately pack up and go home. I feel INSANE every time I think about it. tbh.
---
“Feels a bit like the end of the world,” Jamie says one day, lounging on the sofa while the news plays softly in the background.
Gary looks over at him from where he’s sat a respectable distance away at the other end of the couch. “Yeah,” he says quietly, “it does a bit.”
Jamie had been thinking about saying – well, it doesn’t really matter, because he’s been thinking about saying it for three weeks now and still hasn’t got up the nerve. Instead, he smirks and says “y’know, in all the disaster movies I’ve seen the rich bastards always fuck off somewhere safe, don’t they?” He looks around Gary’s huge living room. “Maybe that pension of yours has finally come in handy, eh?”
“I dunno,” Gary says. “All just feels a bit wrong, to be fair.” He gets up with a sigh, brushes some imaginary lint off his trousers. “You got any more filming to do today, or d’you fancy helping me in kitchen?”
For a brief moment, Jamie considers making up some interview he has to go off and record so that he can avoid another dreaded ‘Gary (who can’t cook) tries to teach Jamie how to cook’ session, but then he remembers that this lockdown thing is already stretching out for weeks and weeks ahead of him, and if he’s going to be stuck here all that time he should probably try pulling his weight a bit more.
“Fine, but I’m not peeling any more fuckin’ carrots.”
*
When Jamie’s loading the dishwasher after dinner, Gary rests a hand on his hip and kisses him, soft and sweet.
“Come to bed?” he murmurs against Jamie’s lips, and Jamie wonders if he even remembers how to deny him anything.
*
Except he does remember how, and he hates himself for it. Because when Gary, already half-asleep, loosely wraps a hand around his wrist and says “stay,” he gently extracts himself from the tangle of sheets and goes back to the spare room.
*
They somehow manage to carry on like this, days spent on zoom calls from separate studies, evenings spent trying to muddle their way through whatever recipes they find online. Nights, more often than not, spent in separate bedrooms.
They’re actually having less sex, now that they’re living under the same roof. Before, every time they’d seen each other had been an excuse to find somewhere private to sneak off together, every accidental touch in studios or in stadiums had felt charged.
Now, they argue over what shows to watch on Netflix. They work out together most mornings in Gary’s little home gym. They stay up far later than two middle aged men have any right to, heckling each other through games of fifa and mario kart.
Sometimes, Jamie looks over at Gary and he’s got that same look in his eye that he normally only gets when he’s about to kiss Jamie. Sometimes Jamie smiles at the expression, starts to lean in, is left confused when Gary blushes and moves away.
Sometimes Gary does kiss him. Sometimes Gary does more than kiss him. It’s easy, familiar. Comforting. It’s a dance they’ve been practicing for four years now.
It’s still just as hard to return to his own bed afterwards as it had been four years ago.
*
Three months becomes six months becomes a year, and Jamie dreads going back to his own house, to the thick layer of dust that’s waiting for him there, to that quiet emptiness that he’s only just learnt to live without.
He almost catches himself thinking that he hates Liverpool.
But life has to go back to normal, that’s what everyone’s saying, so he packs up his things while Gary watches from the doorway of the spare room.
“Stay,” he says.
It’s the first time he’s asked without the excuse of the sleepy post-orgasm haze to hide behind. It’s the first time Jamie has to actually give an answer.
He shrugs, keeps his focus on the suitcase lying open in front of him. “No more lockdowns,” he says, all forced casualness. “’s not like either of us have much use for a housemate.”
“Jamie,” Gary says, taking a step into the room. “Stay.”
Jamie turns to look at him.
Gary won’t meet his eyes, is staring unblinking at a spot on the wall instead, lips pursed tightly together. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides.
Jamie really, really doesn’t want to go home.
“Maybe I can swing another week or two,” he says carefully, reaching out to brush the back of Gary’s hand.
He feels shaky fingers lace with his own, sees Gary’s eyes crinkle in a not-quite-smile. “D’you think y’could stretch it to a month?”
“Hows about a year?”
Gary breathes a heavy sigh of relief, his whole face breaking into a wide grin. “Hows about ten?”
“Fuck, Gary,” Jamie breathes, pulls him in by the front of his shirt. He kisses him firmly, then rests a hand on his cheek and says “rest of our lives, that’s me final offer.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” Gary says, and kisses him again.
*
Later, they’re lying in Gary’s bed and Jamie’s not even thinking about the spare room.
Gary’s got the duvet pulled up to cover his bare chest, glasses perched on his nose while he scrolls on his phone.
“You got any plans a month from Thursday?” he asks idly.
“Not had any plans in a year, lad, might take a while for the calendar to fill back up. Why?”
“Fancy gettin’ married?”
Gary’s still just looking at his phone, his tone still light, but there’s a faint blush rising in his cheeks.
“Hmm, I’m still waitin’ on a better offer,” Jamie teases, “but I reckon I can pencil you in.”
#AGAIN SORRY FOR THE LACK OF FLUFF AND SILLINESS. this DID get away from me a bit#god theyre insane. yes theyd been fwb for 4 years yes they were living together a full year no they still cant say they love each other <3#also yeah in case it was unclear this is now Officially part of the wife-gary saga (and thank u for giving it that name I love that...)#carraville#drabbles#wife gary saga
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tagged by @cinematicnomad to post 7 comfort movies. (i would like you to know i struggle with lists like this because my autistic brain very much wants me to be AS PRECISE AS POSSIBLE and i only learned very recently that neurotypical people don’t worry about that?? they just…answer without worrying if they’re picking their top 7 comfort movies?? they just…pick 7 movies and move on with their life?? wild.)
1. spotlight. kat and i have this one in common, and for good reason - it’s just so. damn. satisfying. people who do bad things get called out on their bad stuff and people who had been ignored get heard. it’s (in my opinion) one of the most re-watchable dramas out there. and man…such a good cast.
2. howl’s moving castle. look, probably most of the studio ghibli movies could make this list, but howl is the one i turn to the most because the whimsical, fun, warm vibes of this movie feel like a HUG. the growth of all of the characters makes me smile and you just want to FALL into this movie. i absolutely want to take a walk through some hills and find myself at the door of a wacky castle with a super hot wizard, thanks very much.
3. major league. i asked my younger brother once how many times we’ve seen this movie and he laughed and said, “oh man…at least a couple dozen.” you have to understand this movie is a solid piece of the foundation of my childhood. we only had the basic stations when i was a kid and this movie was on on saturday afternoons constantly. CONSTANTLY. i can probably quote the entire thing from memory. there’s something about a baseball movie that always makes me feel like i’m living in an endless summer afternoon, like i have nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. it’s an unsurpassed vibe: just baseball and a warm afternoon that never ends.
4. 10 things i hate about you. another endlessly quotable movie - and one i share with my sister. also our dad loves it - and quotes it to me too. there isn’t a lot to say for this one other than sometimes a movie comes along and it’s just yours, you know? this is one of mine. when my sister had her oldest child i bought her a tiny red izod polo shirt and she immediately asked, “did you buy this from an outlet mall?” YES. I ABSOLUTELY DID AND I HAVE NEVER BEEN PROUDER RO BE YOUR SISTER THAN IN THIS MOMENT, RIGHT NOW.
5. rudy. if there’s something i think everyone needs to know about me, it’s this: i love inspirational sports movies. LOVE THEM. absolutely cannot get enough. do i know exactly what the filmmaker is doing to me every time i hear sweeping music and someone starts running in slo-mo? oh yeah. abso-fucking-lutely. do i care? not the smallest bit. in fact i lean into that shit. rudy is one of the best ones and it also gets extra bonus points because for a long time it was the only movie i ever cried at. that’s not hyperbole. people would refuse to watch it with me because i’d always be reduced to a blubbering mess by the end. HE’S SO LITTLE. AND THEY CARRY HIM OFF THE FIELD. give me a break. i’m not made of stone.
6. steel magnolias. the hallmarks of this list are a) i have watched this movie at least a dozen times, b) this movie has a VIBE, and c) this movie is insanely quotable. this movie passes all three with flying colors. the cast is absolutely stellar, and this community of women who love and support each other is just…THE ACTUAL BEST. but also: it has dolly. DOLLY. “what size shoe do you wear?” “well, i wear a size six, but a seven feels so good, i buy a size eight.” perfection. PERFECTION.
7. ocean’s eleven. you know how i love an inspirational sports movie? I LOVE A HEIST MOVIE. like LOVE. the whole genre is smart and fun, and ocean’s eleven is also stylish and funny and just a fantastic fucking time. it has an insane cast and a great soundtrack and it’s just so GOOD. so so good. it’s a film told with a wink that manages to carry the best part of 50s/60s swag into the 00s, and we are all the better for it.
i tag: @tattooedsiren, @machtaholic, @smowkie , @itsactuallycorrine , @caroandcats , @elisela , and @missanniewhimsy and whoever else wants to do this. it’s a fun one.
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Not a request, but!! Thoughts on Pinkerton?
pinkerton is their best album easily. or at least my personal favourite (i could see arguments for blue and ewbaite).
pinkerton is definitely the most exciting and interesting album musically, it has a feel to it that i don’t think any of the other albums truly capture. the louder, rougher sound is unique for them and an incredible listening experience and the lyrics are truly something special. rivers writes so well on this album and it’s really interesting to hear the brutally honest wording.
pinkerton was my 2nd most listened to album last year (just after black parade) with like a full 25 hours spent listening to it it’s incredible, 10/10 album
you know what screw it, track by track opinions:
Tired of Sex - really good opening to the album, it introduces the tone of the whole project perfectly. i’m amazed at how well it translates onto pinkerton from SFTBLH, they managed to change it just enough to provide a fantastic opening. the kind of drone on the vocals emphasises rivers exhaustion with his current lifestyle very neatly and the sudden bursts of noise starting up as the lyrics become angrier is gnarly as hell i love the loud guitar
Getchoo - this one hits like crazy i love the sound of the chorus, the little ah-hAH right at the end of it when it goes slightly higher scratches the brain itch just right. the actual characters of the song feel so real, the whole album feels real, and it’s actually mint.
No Other One - same deal with the characters, this is gonna mostly just be me reiterating that Rivers killed it with the songwriting here. absolutely love this song, the long, winding intro kicking in suddenly with the bM-bm-Bm-bm-BM is heavenly, it’s a truly lovely melody (i have no clue how music actually works) and makes for a fantastic song, one of the best on the album
Why Bother? - this one makes me go bananas it’s so quick and fast and speedy and other synonyms and it just mmmmm good track good song everything explodes and i love it. also you guys know Rob Cantor from Tally Hall did a cover of this song for a Pinkerton tribute album and it’s really sick
Across the Sea - oh boy this is it this is the track where my opinion gets the account shut down. it’s good man it’s really good this song really hits. like obviously the lyrics are- they’re fucked they’re fucked up, but they’re honest and the fact that this song even exists at all and weezer put it on the album means a lot and made huge strides in musical lyricism as a whole. i honestly really enjoy it. and like it sounds good instrumentally as well the little piano noodles are so funny and chimey and cool and the repeating of the actual “i got your letter, you got my song” tune by the guitar immediately after it is nice it makes me happy
The Good Life - fucking insane track blam blam blam i love it i love it i love it. it’s time he got back. the actual historical elements of Rivers life that tie into this track is very interesting in regards to the weezer lore. this is a loud song and it’s a crazy song and everything about it is good and everyone should go listen to the good life
El Scorcho - now this is the song of all time. the lyrics are so silly goofy i adore them, he’ll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon man (the sudden slam i tot he chorus from that line is so good as well). Matt Sharps back in vocals are really nice to listen to, it isn’t his best vocal performance in the songs he was on but it’s very nice, and Brian Bells first ever vocal performance on a studio album (pretty sure he sang on the longtime sunshine recording earlier) is slaying honestly. that whole section of the song slams me violently back into the wall with some invisible force everytime i listen to it i mean how stupid is it i can’t talk about it i’ve gotta sing about it and make a record of my heart. anyway el scorcho good song ay carumba
Pink Triangle - funny funny gay song. unironically though this one is pretty perfect the instrumentals throughout the entire song is completely solid and i mean the lyrics are- they put my kind in the weezer lyrics. (actual history element of this is one of my favourite pasty’s of weezer lore, girl it’s about heard the song and it turns out she isn’t even a lesbian)
Falling For You - this one is my favourite weezer song. in my top 3 songs of all time alongside MCR - Mama and Komm Sußer Todd. it is, and it doesn’t feel like it the first time, but it is genuinely one of the greatest songs ever made. just listen to it. listen to the album. every little detail from the japanese voicelines in static at the beginning to the perfect melody and loudness of the chorus to the way all of the verses flow like that to the way he says little old three chord me (such a good line such a good line i am so normal) to the screaming the title in the final chorus. it’s immaculate. i love weezer pinkerton
Butterfly - this track is divisive. most people either think it’s the only good part of the album or it isn’t worth listening to after the rest of it. these people are incorrect. it’s a perfect closer for the album, after all the bangers, this is the mash to make, the full- bangers and mash. i actually do love the concept of winding it down at the end of the album like this and butterfly is really exactly how to do that. it’s beautiful and a really profound and perfect way to call back to the rest of the album and reflect on all the beautiful themes and concepts touched on. and hey, if butterfly doesn’t do it for you, you always have…
THE BONUS TRACKS ON PINKERTON DELUXE
oh baby those bonus tracks
i won’t talk about all of these specifically but Devotion, I Just Threw Out The Love Of My Dreams, Longtime Sunshine and Tragic Girl are all favourites of mine. blast off! too even though that’s not actually on pinkerton deluxe. Songs From The Black Hole was an incredibly interesting concept and a lot of the unused tracks from it or parts that were worked on to pinkerton also stand as incredible pieces of art
so in conclusion:
what have we learned today
pinkerton is one of the greatest albums of the 90s, one of the greatest albums of all time, and everyone should listen to and love pinkerton
i am so normal about weezer
#weezer#pinkerton#this is my most autistic post yet#thank you lizardkid777#again#this ask has ruined me
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ohgghh i’m on the season finale. mind if i liveblog in ur inbox?? i’m doing it
this is already fucking insane. i have no idea whose side will is on. he’s giving information to both jack and hannibal before they meet for dinner. what is he doing. WHAT IS HIS PLAN
god i love freddie lounds. have i mentioned that?? i love her. morally fucked up women my beloved <3 she makes the narrative so interesting
hannibal is literally asking will to run away with him. my god. how much fucking gayer can this get. they need to make out sloppy style covered in blood right now immediately
HERE COMES JACK THIS WAS THE SCENE WE SAW RIGHT AT THE BEGINNING OF THE SEASON ISN’T IT??? OHHH HELL YEAH BABEY IT’S THE FIGHT SCENE HEHEHEHE
ALANA’S HERE ALANA’S HERE AAAAAAA GIRLIE RUN ohhhhhh no jack is bleeding from the neck oh no oh no i don’t want him dead please no :( ALANA OH NO. OH NO SHE HAS NO BULLETS. OH NO GIRL RUNNNNN oh she found more oh thank god
ABIGAIL???????
WHAT THE FUCK
SHE PUSHED ALANA OUT THE WINDOW
alana don’t die noooo no no no :( i love her i don’t want her dead!!! oh god jack is probs dying too NOOOOOOOO
omg will saw abigail,,,,,, sobbing. wailing even. screaming and crying.
“we couldn’t leave without you” okay. gayass. my heart is already shattered what the fuck am i supposed to do about this
tenderly touching the side of will’s face. dude come on
HE STABBED HIM HE STABBED HIM OH MY GOD. WHAT THE FUCK
“do you believe you could change me the way i changed you?” “i already did” OKAY. ALRIGHT. I’LL JUST SIT WITH THIS NOW. WHAT THE HELL DUDE
HE’S KILLING ABIGAIL FOR REAL. DUDE. ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS. yeah no way everyone here is surviving this. oh fuck oh fuck jack is totally dead oh fuck ok time to cry. he called his wife in his last moments. stop. i’ve cried over bella twice before i don’t need to again ok
HANNIBAL AND HIS THERAPIST ARE JUST FUCKING OFF TO SOMEWHERE ELSE?? THAT’S THE WAY THE SEASON ENDS????? MAC WHAT THE HELL MAN
^ME RN. MY GOD. I DON’T KNOW HOW MANY OF THEM SURVIVED THAT BUT HOLY SHIT I DON’T HAVE THE TIME OR ENERGY TO START S3 RIGHT NOW. UHHHH THOUGHTS: IT GOT VERY GAY VERY QUICKLY. GENUINELY THOUGHT THEY WERE GONNA KISS AT MULTIPLE POINTS AND THE WRITERS WERE COWARDS FOR NOT LETTING THEM MAKE OUT SLOPPY STYLE COVERED IN BLOOD. VERY GLAD FREDDIE IS ALIVE GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSS <3 FIGURED ABIGAIL WASN’T DEAD BUT WAS STILL SURPRISED BY HER SHOWING UP. WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED. 10/10 I’M GOING TO GO TO BED NOW
AHAHAHHAAAA HOLY SHIT. WELCOME TO MY WORLD. WELCOME TO MY TWISTED MIND, IM A TWISTED FUCKING CYCLE PATH BECAUSE OF HANNIBAL S2 FINALE
"you were supposed to leave." "we couldnt leave without you". will run away with me. will we can escape but only if we do it together. unfortunately i cannot trust you and you cannot trust me. we work perfectly together and thats exactly why we can never work together. the way he fucking.. caresses wills face before he stabs him and then immediately just.. holds him. girls when they say they want to be held (me im girls). "DO YOU BELIEVE YOU COULD CHANGE ME THE WAY I CHANGED YOU" "I ALREADY DID" WHSIKEY CAN YOU HEAR ME . CAN YOU FUCKING HEAR ME. THEY SHOULD HAE MADE OUT SPLOPPY STYLE. "you would deny me my life?" "no no no" "my freedom, then? confine me to a prison cell?" << this dialogue. ugh. ughghghghghghhghghhghhgh. man what the fucj. im literally always thinking about hannibal season 2 finale. any time i need to do a factory reset on my brain i pull up my favorite youtube video conveniently titled "hannibal stabs will scene". fellas is it gay to gut another man like a fish. (the answer is yes)
#good luck in season 3 <33333#ironically it is THE most nearly almost explicitly gay season despite being my least favorite#god. the way the series ends is gonna make you so fucking insane i cant wait for that#i literally cnanot say anything else without spoiling things that happen in season3 so instead i will say <3 good luck. smile :)#friends!!!#anachronistic-falsehood#asks
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hi! i just wanted to drop by and say, i think your last prompt fic rewired the chemistry in my brain. i've been rotating that interaction between finarfin and olwe in my mind for hours now. that's probably the best take i saw on them & and on why finarfin didn't return immediately after the first kinslaying. that was amazing and your writing is wonderful
also i'm in love with your "and all our towers cast down" fic, with your portrayal of finrod and his trauma, it's honestly fascinating
hope you're having a good day/night <3
omg tysm for this incredibly kind message!!!! it literally made my entire day. tbh i didn't expect much of a response to that ficlet bc it was such a struggle to write - Aegnor and Angrod are not characters I think about often and Alqualondë is so odd narratively to me bc it feels like it should be a major turning point for everyone but it kind of...isn't? So this was my best attempt at making it make sense in my own mind. I need to write a full meta post on the subject soon haha to put my thoughts in order. I'm so glad you liked it!! Though I don't really write about them much, Olwë and Finarfin are such interesting characters to me so I'm glad they came through properly.
And thank u so so much!! i have absolutely adored writing towers, it's so much fun to explore the character dynamics and really dive into leithian and make everyone's choices make more sense in my own brain. in my mind finrod's death is really what sealed the doom of nirnaeth, cuz politically fingon lost so much with finrod. so i am really looking forward to exploring the ramifications of his survival and how the events of tol-in-gaurhoth affected him. i really see his role in leithian as him finally snapping and being like I'm going to help this person I love no matter the cost. I've always headcanoned that a big part of the reason he went to middle earth was to support both the nolofinwions and his own people who loved feanor. and in middle-earth he's had to make the hard pragmatic choice so many times, between splitting from turgon pretty much forever, letting his brothers go to the front lines, sending balan's people to the front lines, constantly smoothing things over between the Fëanorions, the nolofinwions, the doriathrim, the bëorians, and the laiquendi, and at the point of leithian he's just seen so much of that work burst into flames around him and he basically pulls a fingolfin. he's like fuck what happens to me, fuck what happens to my kingdom: thingol is insane, two of my brothers are dead, pretty much all of balan's people that i worked so hard to help are dead except this one guy who is determined to go on a suicide mission. so im gonna help balan's descendant and no one can stop me.
But now he's survived and he's going to have to reckon with...all of that...with fingon who just lost his father to a similar impulse, and with orodreth, and with himself. and of course sauron's mind games didn't help him any. so he's in a pretty bad headspace right now and is going to have to deal with a lot of the losses he's just been shoving away and not looking at up until now.
Anyway sorry for the ramble! I'm just very passionate abt this project lol.
Also, I know you like Finarfin, and this ask made literally my whole entire day, so here's a Finarfin+Finrod snippet for you! I hope you enjoy <3
That morning, Arafinwë's eldest son does not so much walk into the dining room as swim. He is encased in layers upon layers of swishing fabric that billow before and after him, making it necessary to sway carefully to avoid tripping; his hair, loosed and straightened, falls nearly to his feet, and keeps tangling about his knees; and he looks inordinately proud of himself.
Arafinwë glances at Eärwen in bewilderment, wondering if wardrobe-related madness is a symptom among the Returned that he has forgotten about. She looks just as confused as he feels, if significantly more amused.
"Good morning, Finrod!" he says aloud. "Er - is there a special occasion?"
Finrod moves carefully to his chair, then sweeps his massive skirts behind him, swiftly moves the chair out, and sinks into it with a whoosh. He looks up cheerfully.
"Good morning, Atya, Ammë!" he says, beaming. "No special occasion - this is cultural. It is the latest in Vanyarin fashion!"
"Is it?" Arafinwë asks weakly. "It seems - difficult to move in."
"Oh, yes," Finrod responds, grinning even wider. The effect, in conjunction with the sparkling, billowing skirts and tangled hair, is nearly blinding. "That's the point, you see! It is intended to emulate the care with which the Valar must move, encased in the forms they take to walk among us. I thought the idea was fascinating. And the fabrics they use are so beautiful!"
"Ah - that is indeed interesting," Arafinwë responds, wondering who among his mother's people he will have to take aside later for a quick word on not telling Finrod about Vanyar fads. "Surely it is not intended to go out in...?"
"Oh, but of course it is!" Finrod says. "I plan to go out to market as soon as we are done breakfasting, to experience the full effect. Would you like to come? It could be quite interesting."
"Alas, your mother and I must hold court soon after breakfast, and cannot join," Arafinwë says without much regret.
"You must tell us about the experience, though!" Eärwen chimes in, sounding as if she is suppressing laughter.
"Ah, very well," Finrod says cheerfully; and after he has breakfasted he does indeed rise carefully - barely snatching his garment away from the remnants of jelly on his plate before it can be stained - and swim out of the room.
Eärwen and Arafinwë look at each other and burst into laughter.
"The skirts!" Eärwen gasps, "The folds! It will take him an hour to exit the palace!"
"Oh dear," Arafinwë says at last, wiping his eyes. "Oh dear. Was he like this before?"
"He was!" Eärwen exclaims. "Do you remember, he used to creep into your father's closet and try on his best robes? Then he would swan about the halls, trying not to trip."
"I had forgotten," Arafinwë admits, a smile curving his lips, "but you are quite right. He always did love beautiful clothing. I only hope that his pursuit of high Vanyarin fashion will not send him home with a broken collarbone."
"It is so good to have our son home," Eärwen says abruptly. "Our children gave me such joy. I had nearly forgotten."
Arafinwë reaches across the table to take her hand. "It is," he agrees. The image of Finrod leaving the room, having to angle his hips to fit through the door and bundling his hair about himself so as not to trip, floats across his mind and he chuckles again. "Do you remember when bustles were all the rage, and Artanis got caught on a turn of the stairway? She was furious."
Eärwen's laughter is a welcome peal, more light of heart than he had heard in years. "As I recall, it was Finrod who convinced her of their merits in the first place."
"She did not take his advice on fashion again, after that!" Arafinwë agrees. He cannot stop smiling as he begins to gather up the breakfast things and neaten his own robes. It feels as if his heart is singing within him: Our son is home. He is home. He is home!
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You should talk about antar from dnd on here due to they are neat
FINE but only if you finally run that gondolin campaign and give me an excuse to PLAY THEM AGAIN (threat (affectionate))
okay!! so antar is one of two (2) tolkien ocs i have, both made for d&d purposes. they’re a character i made for a fall of gondolin one-shot game that jaz ran one time. being a fall of gondolin one-shot, the idea was that we were all going to die horribly, it was really just a matter of how.
something that should probably be known about me: i keep wanting to make d&d characters to have get killed off dramatically, but i literally never can, because i get way too fucking attached to them.
so therefore, this is fun, right! i get to make a fun little doomed character, they get to die horribly, i am not going to have them long-term so it literally doesn’t matter!! blorbo for my torture!!
i rolled antar up like an hour, not even, before this game. i chose everything about them to be about as doomed as possible. i even gave them the oathsworn background!!! and, at jaz’s absolutely evil suggestion, to which i went oh that would be SO bad for them,
i had them swear two oaths.
one, they are oathsworn to turgon, to protect gondolin at all costs.
two, they are oathsworn in complete and absolute loyalty to maeglin.
(over the two hours in question, i would come to frequently and almost exclusively refer to maeglin as “my son, who is also my boss.”)
i spent the entire two hours wondering how, exactly, this was going to play out, which oath they were going to inevitably break, what they would do when confronted with what maeglin had done.
well.
antar sees maeglin on the cliff with earendil.
drops literally everything to try to get to him immediately.
gets there, and realizes that morgoth has done something to his mind.
tries at first to convince him that he’s safe, that they’ll protect him from literal morgoth himself if they must.
and when that fails.
declares that they will prove that he is safe.
and immediately breaks their oath to the entire city to defend maeglin, genuinely believing that they could save him, and save everyone.
understandably, they then immediately took twenty shadow points at once, in a game where straight-up murder makes you take five, and then naturally proceeded to die falling off of said cliff.
also understandably, they then immediately proceeded to make me insane about them forever.
several weeks later, they would still be living in my brain enough for me to decide that, as a member of turgon’s guard, they bore extremely direct witness to eol’s attempted murder of maeglin/successful murder of aredhel, and probably also eol’s subsequent execution. they were extremely affected by watching a child lose both of his parents in one of the most traumatizing ways possible and just. sorta decided that anything this kid needs, they’re there for. truly i do not want to backstory build deeper than that until i get to play them more, because it’s more fun for me if things come up naturally, but they’re an absolute thembo ridden with a deep and unshakable responsibility complex who has just absolutely mentally adopted this poor kid. they’re the house of the mole’s secretary. they’re a polite ball of sunshine. they will kill for you if they love you. and now jaz uses them whenever maeglin needs to have a secretary in fics, which is truly the highest honor.
and @ jaz for asking me this, actually let me play them more i WILL break into your apartment and start getting the dice out myself this is a THREAT <3
#I AM NOT ASKING#(i am begging)#I WANNA PLAY THEM AGAIN SO BAD#the power is in YOUR hands. You Can Make This Happen.#also re: one of my two (2) tolkein ocs – somebody PLEASE ask me about murdoc. please. somebody. Anyone.#also yes character who shows affection by killing for you is perhaps a running thing with every oc i make. whoops.#nelyo askbox#friends!! <3#gondolin campaign
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