#not only is Edward painfully controlling; all the cullens are in on it (see book 3) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugaxjpg · 5 years

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04 | blank check; m

⤷ “Let me get this right, okay? You threw my name in as your fake girlfriend because you needed to prove yourself to your empty-headed friends, and now you need to fix it. Still,” you paused, raising your eyebrows, “your way of fixing is not to disclose it as a lie, but to cover it up with an even bigger and riskier one. Is that correct?”

⤷ PART 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | Co-written with @pantaemonium

✓ Couple: Jungkook x Reader | Fuckboy!AU & FakeDating!AU

✓ Filed under: smut, tragic comebacks

✓ Words: 6,892

Author’s Note: And here it is... whatever this is. Laura and I are sorry. Also, Part 5 will be a bit longer than the ones we have put out so far, so pls be patient!! It’ll come :,)

Your debate class had its intense, hair-pulling moments in the past — from the dichotomy of the current political climate to philosophical dialogues about Descartes’ universal doubt — but, every once in a while, even your professor would get stressed at the constant bickering of his top 10 students and, instead, would chose a dumb theme that the class could find some sort of humor in. After some time, even that showed itself to be an obstacle, since most of your classmates had their head so far up their own ass that they forgot what the sun looked like, even less what it was to have a chill, borderline comical, conversation with another human being.

And that was where you and Namjoon came in.

If you were to be completely honest, you could say without a shadow of a doubt that the two had a constant veil of bitterness floating between you. What could you do? Both of you were a bit more competitive than you should be, and the prospect of academic validation was far too tempting for you two to just let it slide. But, damn. If Dante Alighieri had the misfortune of meeting Kim Namjoon throughout his life, you were absolutely sure he would have added the man somewhere amongst his circles of inferno — because, Jesus Christ, was he a pain in the ass when he took things to his personal side.

“In synthesis, professor, I must conclude,” Namjoon started, leaning against the tall surface of his table. The copy of the discussed book was placed before him, and you could see that he had highlighted — and color-coded — at least half of it. “Bella Swan should have picked Jacob instead of Edward. The amount of danger she faced was ridiculous, and perfectly avoidable if she had chosen the one that was always there for her and, quite frankly, much more attractive.”

Subtle. Always so subtle.

With his feet over a nearby desk, your professor hummed, and used his cup of coffee to hide the smirk that creeped up on his lips. From your peripheral vision, you could see the other students exchanging animated glances, waiting for your turn to defend Team Edward. “Alright. Very good, Kim,” he praised, then turned to you. His mop-like moustache was stained by the brown coffee, and it looked more disgusting than it should. “What do you have for us, defense?”

You pushed your shoulders back and, without a missed beat, spoke your truth. “I disagree with Namjoon’s conclusion, professor. Edward Cullen cared about Bella Swan much more than Jacob ever did. He was only angry because he was thrown into the friendzone, and did not get his desires fulfilled by his best friend.” Your eyes darted towards Namjoon as you verbalized those words, wishing you were just as subtle as he had been — that is, not at all. “Edward protected Bella since the start, was patient, and didn’t force anything on her. With all due respect, professor.” You turned back to the class. “Jacob had no free-pass to Bella’s black lacy underwear just because he had been there for longer.”

“That’s irrelevant to this debate, come on!” Namjoon defended himself, blushing from the tip of his ears to — not that you had been looking before — the place where his tan skin disappeared under his shirt. The buttons opened, that would’ve gotten him a warning in high school—but in college it was the average cool dude uniform. “Jacob was not as simple-minded as he’s thought to be. He may be a werewolf but he’s not stupid—”

“Well, I have to disagree. As you may have read — and I’m sure my opponent highlighted this part too—, in the fourth book of the saga Jacob imprinted Edward and Bella’s new-born baby, under the justification that, and I quote, everything he was—snip, snip, snip—floated up into space when he met the baby’s eyes, which are coincidentally very similar to Bella’s who happened to be at the moment, dead.”

“It is explained within the Twilight universe that werewolves often link themselves to their partners for life.” Namjoon barked back, although there was no confidence left within him when he opened the book, and started looking through his notes, wondering how he could’ve left the imprinting-the-baby topic out. What a mess.

Poor Namjoon had surely been very busy dreaming of your black underwear to finish preparing the debate and that, good for you, meant you had won — for once.

“My shaking jerked to a stop; heat flooded through me, stronger than before, but it was a new kind of heat — not a burning,” you read, trying to occult behind the pages the wicked smile invading your features. At the back of the classroom, your classmates started laughing enough for Mr. Moustache to turn around and shush them. Namjoon was paralysed. His projection into the Jacob’s character was not as funny anymore. “Around five minutes before he falls in love with the half-vampire parasite, he’s hugging Bella’s flailing body, forbidding her from dying. He’s not what I call… consistent with his feelings.”

Namjoon opened his mouth to talk, but all of the present souls knew that his chances of coming back from that annihilation were practically zero. With a smile and a resonating laugh, Professor Pornstache turned around to the class. “Alright, children of the corn, you all know how it goes,” he started. You had no idea how he hadn’t noticed the soaked mess that his upper lip had turned into, but that’s what botox injections can do to your overall sensibility, after all. “Write on a piece of paper who you think won, and then let’s do this as democratically as we can — even if we all know that the final word is mine.”

You rolled your eyes at your professor’s attempt at being Cool With the Kids. Mussolini over there — Mustachelini? Nah — constantly tried to sneak in references of popular movies into his every sentence, which explained his constant obsession with reviewing young adult novels. Next one up, according to him, would be something from Cassandra Clare, and you really didn’t think you’d be able to endure another painfully awkward love triangle discussion, even less the hidden incest.

With a few chuckles and guilty gazes crossing, the classroom was quick to pass the papers off to the front row, where the teacher’s personal pet — Jisoo? Achoo? Bless you — could organize and count the votes. You were lucky she was great at her job, for it took her less than five dragged-out, silence-filled minutes to have an answer.

With a grin that seemed to come out straight from a Monopoly live-action movie, your professor looked down at the winner’s name. “Oh, look at that,” he said. “Seems like we have a new name to pay attention to. Namjoon…” he dragged out his speech in a way that you swore the air had been sucked out of your lungs. Next to you, the boy leaned forwards, chest filled up with pride. “Better luck next time, kid. Y/N got the trophy. That’s ten points to gryffindor, and a nine for Team Edwards.”

With the weight of defeat dragging his shoulders down, Namjoon retreated to the back of the classroom, where the bad boys — you almost cringed thinking of him as one of those — sat and gnawed gum loudly trying to make the world believe their attitude would get there somewhere in life except, perhaps, jail. He plopped onto his chair, and let out a defeated sigh. If he couldn’t win a Twilight debate that meant his career was over, his reputation on the floor. It was a tragic defeat, one he had never expected.

Part of him, you thought, should be happy that it had been you the one to conquer the first place. It could have been someone else, like the guy from second row who carried an anime figurine around and ate his boogers when he thought no one was watching; or maybe, the resident weed-lover, who would probably rant for five minutes about the necessity to legalize marijuana, and avoid altogether the mundane problems of two-hundred year old bloodsucker hottie number 1; and very white, very anodyne Bella Swan.

“So, tell me, what kept you so busy that you couldn’t finish the assigned reading?” You questioned, rubbing — as they would say — salt over his overabundance of pride wounds. It was petty, but it was the funniest part of defeating the smarty-pants in the room. “Anything on your mind? Do you need a pep-talk? My therapist’s number, perhaps?”

Namjoon crossed his arms over his desk and laid his head over them, hoping the earth could just open up and swallow him alive. It crossed his mind that Jungkook probably didn’t even know which elements that are inside the Earth’s core — nickel and iron, for the ones wondering — even less which layer was liquid: internal or external. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe you wanted someone that was more than brains, or maybe you could be searching for someone so dumb that would make you feel more confident at your own IQ — yeah, that was probably it. You wouldn’t pick anyone but Namjoon if that wasn’t the case.

But he needed to control the flux of his thoughts before it got the best of him, and he made the mistake of being a little bit more honest than he should. What could he do? His pride was completely shattered — over a Twilight debate, for fuck’s sake — and he was struggling to seat down after the catastrophe that had been that pizza. Never underestimate the enemy. Never underestimate cheese left out to rot for too long.

And, most importantly, never underestimate Jeon Jungkook.

“So, Y/N,” he started, raising his head from the desk. Two other students had already moved to the front of the class to start their debate on the powers of some of the secondary vampire characters, but he didn’t care about it — that one, he could win it in his sleep —, for his eyes were completely glued to your own. “You ran away from us that night at the party. Care to say what happened between you and your misunderstood knight?”

And god bless your winner high for not making your face crack under the sudden question. Even if the image of Jungkook rubbing his cherry splitter came back in a hormonal rush throughout your body and mind, the smirk in your lips lingered, and your inner despair did not drip through your words. “Nothing happened, we are perfectly fine,” you lied. “In fact, he invited me to go to Jimin’s pool party next weekend. Hope you don’t mind my company.”

It was ephemeral, but you saw the way Namjoon’s eyes widened for an instant — he was a mortal man, with simple mortal needs. Seeing glimpses of your black underwear? That was nice. Seeing you in full bikini? That was a miracle, and Kim Namjoon wasn’t someone to disregard a message from the Lord.

He cleared his throat, and looked towards the front of the class, where the debate was starting to heat up. One of the students claimed that vampires having weather-controlling abilities made no sense, for it was Twilight, and not X-men. He had to agree with that one. “That’s… something to consider,” he spoke. It was getting hot there? It was either you or the intestinal cramps from that forsaken pizza — how many days would it take for it to leave his system? God. “Never thought of you as someone who enjoyed… the outdoors.”

“I’m not the sun’s biggest fan, that’s true,” you acknowledged, “but that’s what relationships are about, you know? Making sacrifices, spending time with your boyfriend’s friends. All that.”

Namjoon, once again, lost his space to speak. As his eyebrows twitched together in a sign of his disbelief — and a bit of jealousy, let’s be honest — and his plump lips parted in a silent exclamation, the screen of your phone lit up, a loud ding! ruptured the attention of the class. From the front row, Pornstache asked for you to turn the device off.

“Won’t you look at that,” Namjoon complained, watching your fingers as you quickly placed your phone on silent mode. “Edward Cullen is here to save the day.”

There was a tinge of agony in his voice, that you interpreted as a silent hope that he could someday become the one to disrupt the class to send you, perhaps, a corny I miss you, let’s meet at the library after class, or a more saucy — and god knows you hate that expression — I’d love to be in bed right now, doing you-know-what. Namjoon didn’t strike you to be one to send a I’ll fuck you raw against the wall only because he would understand the physical limitations that would come with such statement.

“Edward Cullen is just trying to know if I’ll be going to your match next week, I think,” you lied. The phone vibrated against the table, insistent. It was like having Jungkook behind your back, saying whatever nonsense he had come up with that same morning. “Don’t you have something useful to do? I don’t know, start reading Cassandra Clare’s failed incest fanfic attempts or something?”

“Nah, you know what? I’m going to the bathroom. That pizza is still kicking my intestines, and not in a good way.” He smiled, and it was dashing. “See you later.”

“When you finish pooping.”

“Yeah.”

With raised eyebrows and the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips, you watched as Namjoon made his walk of shame towards the front of a class, then quickened up his pace suddenly. If you could go back to the night of the party and tell him about the consequences of his ridiculously high cheese consumption, you wouldn’t. It was too funny to just let it pass.

Your entertainment, however, was short-lived. As soon as you turned your gaze back to the device on your hands and actually read through the previews of Jungkook’s messages, you could tell that something was wrong.

Jungkook’s only neuron: [incoming video]

Jungkook’s only neuron: SHRIIRSHIT

Jungkook’s only neuron: NO DONT OPEN THAT PLEASE DONT

Jungkook’s only neuron: THAT ISN’T FOR YOU BABY NO

Jungkook’s only neuron: IM SO SORRY OMHFGF NPONONOONO

Jungkook’s only neuron: i want to die please dont download the video please i will do anything i will buy you milkshakes for the entire week plea...

But it was too late: you knew Jungkook was terrible at finding compelling arguments, but that was just too much. He knew you were curious, and his overwhelmed texts only increased your sadism to prolong his suffering. Of course you were going to see whatever the hell he had sent you, and of course you would make sure to tease him for it until the end of time. It was what he deserved after dragging you for yet another acting gig.

So, you unlocked your phone, and went straight to his conversation. Nothing could have prepared you for what you were met with — but one thing was for certain: you were so happy that you had brought your earphones that day.

Curiosity started to carve a hole within your chest. It started as a mere tingle, just below your breastbone, when you plugged in your earphones and starting downloading the video. Had Jungkook been a bit smarter that day — or just more technology-conscious — he would have remembered there was an option to delete his video. It would erase it from the face of earth, and with it the shame it would bring along. It was useless now, because by the time he understood the power he had allowed to slip away you would have already saved the thing in your phone. For blackmail purposes only, of course.

With absolutely no expectations, you pressed play. The condemnatory piece of evidence Jungkook had sent by mistake started playing on your screen, a vastness of black pixels and an eventual flash of light. It must be something huge, for him to panic — while sober — on the chat-room. And huge it was, although at first the image was without form and void. Darkness invaded the screen, like there was a towel or a shirt placed in front of the camera, and the only remnants of light that managed to filter in were through holes in the cotton.

Maybe Jungkook had finally lost his mind, and he had recorded one of those confession videos with huge cards. You are perfect to me, could have been read in one of those, scribbled with a Sharpie in his terrible handwriting. But Jungkook was not the romantic type so that would not be the case, he had a reputation to hold — surprisingly, he had not destroyed it yet.

And so the dumbass said “let there be light”, and there was light — and the most horrendous pink tiles covering the bathroom floor. He appeared into focus, clad in grey sweatpants and a tee shirt that you recognized immediately as part of the training gear for the volleyball team.

“Oh, god,” you muttered to yourself, watching him seat cross-legged before the camera. You had watched enough porn in your life to, at least, sense where this was going, but you were not prepared. Not at all.

When the boy — Jungkook, it was fucking Jungkook and you knew it — moved backwards on the shot, the entire scene came into focus, presenting you with the image of what you presumed was his bathroom. You would recognize that pink abomination anywhere, even if, the last time you witnessed it, you had not payed attention to the disgusting fact that the tiles were also a pallid tinge of roseate; the same color of the heat that painted the boy’s cheeks, all the way to the tip of his ears.

The image was slightly blurred still, but you could tell that he was sitting on the floor, back pressed against a bathtub. Jungkook had moved down on the shot enough so you could see up to his nose, but his eyes were still out of frame. It didn’t matter: you knew it was him, and you could not stop looking at the way his swollen lips were parted, glistening with the thin layer of his saliva. From in between them, came the weak, shy sound of a moan, and his body shivered in expectation.

Before you could even take hold of your actions, your gaze was already shooting downwards, past the droplets of sweat on his tan neck, and the obnoxious colors of his team shirt — for fuck’s sake, he was clearly not the brightest of minds, but, if he wanted it to be a bit harder to figure it out who it was, he shouldn’t have worn that. Dumbass. The hottest fucking dumbass you’ve ever laid eyes upon. Not the point.

Then, you saw it, and your mind went blank. Jungkook had one of his veiny hands placed over his hard member, its outline vaguely visible through the thick fabric of his pants. And, shit, that wasn’t the only thick thing in sight. But anyways. He was caressing it slowly, up and down, then rolling his palm against it slowly, dragging out the whines that broke upon his lips. Through your earphones, you could hear the fragile inflections of his voice against your ear, and you swore you could feel his raggedy breath hitting your skin at every new exhale.

On the upper part of your screen, another message popped up: I can tell you’re online!!!! it practically yelled, reeking of desperation and pheromones. You ignored it. There were more interesting things happening. Bigger things.

Jungkook pressed his palm down on his cock one, twice, but soon grew impatient at the lack of sensibility it provided. You tapped on the video and saw that it was three minutes long, which told you just how much he was eager to get straight to the point; and, much to your inner satisfaction, your hypothesis was quickly proved.

Almost timidly — who would’ve thought Jeon Jungkook could be any shade of timid, for fuck’s sake — the tip of his cock was released from the constriction of the elastic. He had been dripping enough to wet the fabric, and it elicited a thousand questions amongst which the idea of Jungkook cumming in his pants, unable to stop himself was primordial and very much overwhelming.

With more tenderness you had ever imagined he would be capable of, he pressed his thumb against his crown, smearing his slick all around. It ripped a long-drawled groan out of his throat, as he threw his head back and against the bathtub. Sweat started to pool in hollow of his clavicle when he dared move again, hand encircling his length.

That was the moment you understood the situation was serious in more than one way because a) Mr Pornstache was still doing whatever he believed was teaching, b) Namjoon had just crossed the classroom threshold and was about to return to his place by your side; and c) your panties were wetter that the goddamn Nile and it was Jungkook’s doing.

Way to start the week.

Then again, miracles can present themselves every once in a while and, for you, it was the fast-thinking that suddenly overtook your senses. Even if every fiber of your being begged for you to do otherwise, your fingers were quick to pause the video, block your phone, and shove your earplugs inside your jacket’s pocket before Namjoon’s gaze even casted itself in your general direction. Usain Bolt who?

You cleared your throat — was it hot in there? “There you are,” you whispered as he sat down next to you. Namjoon looked one shade whiter and many years older. “Had fun?”

He rolled his eyes. “What kind of question is that?” You did not know. You weren’t thinking straight. You could barely recall your name amongst the echoes of Jungkook’s moans inside your mind, and it was driving you insane. “Anyways,” he started, “did I miss something important? Any big arguments to take into consideration?”

“The biggest argument I’ve ever see— I mean no, nothing,” you were quick to correct yourself. Your heart was beating so fast inside your chest that you recalled every medical drama you’ve ever watched, the movement of the defibrillators and the anxious screams of the doctors — charge it to 200; to 500… There’s nothing else we can do, we lost her. Jungkook strikes again. “You know what? This reminds me, I should go to the bathroom as well— To do… to… take care of lady stuff.”

Taken aback by surprise, Namjoon leaned back against his chair and raised his eyebrows in expectation, trying to predict where that was heading towards. He was clearly doubtful of your actions, and Mr Mustachelini was far too enrolled in the superpower debate to care about the way you roughly moved to your feet, almost knocking the desk over as you did so. Thank the heavens above that you didn’t wear a skirt that day, because the situation in between your legs was reaching critical levels.

“Lady… stuff?” he repeated slowly. There it was: the man you learned to fear in debates and in the court, with those piercing pupils and the expression that told you that there was no use in lying, for he already knew the secrets that you hid underneath your tongue. “Did something happen?”

You laughed nervously. “Absolutely nothing happened,” you lied. He could tell. Somehow, he just could. “I just have to leave, it’s gonna be really quick just… okay, bye.”

Namjoon moves around very slowly. The commotion of your sudden leave had probably pressed a slow-mo button he could not turn off. It was like all his energy was being redirected towards his brain, aimed at the gears you could almost hear rumble. It was just a bathroom escapade, it wasn’t that deep. But Namjizz was keen on discovering the secrets you were not skilful enough to conceal — at least not with the image of Jungkook’s swollen dick in his pretty hands still engraved in your brain.

“Bye,” you repeated, waving him farewell. Still perplexed he muttered something along the lines of: are you sure everything is alright? That you never responded to. All you could picture was the girls’ bathroom at the end of the corridor, the cubicle at the far left — the one less transited.

You had some dignity left inside, so you didn’t run. Instead, you walked as fast as your legs allowed. In hindsight, it was a ridiculous image, but you could only feel the weight of your phone growing heavier in your pocket, the wires tangling like serpents as some sort of cosmic punishment for your unspeakable crimes. As if it wasn’t enough that you had fallen for the local cliché; that you had been tempted by the one character in the comic you had promised you would only treat with disdain and, perhaps, some well-founded superiory.

Jungkook was an overused trope, that was clear enough — thanks brain for the painful reminder! — but fuck, did he make you wet with only a few seconds of his blurry, leaked sextape.

Despite the late hour, the bathroom was deserted. You had been hoping to find someone there, someone disagreeable and nasty who would kill your libido with just a look. Coco would’ve fit the role. But there was no one around, and the cleaning lady had just polished the tiles till they shone like diamonds.

Weren’t you the luckiest girl in the entire university, huh?

Giving it no more thought, you locked yourself inside the cubicle. Your phone vibrated again, this time in your hand.

Jungkook’s only neuron: please Y/N i didn’t mean to send that to you. it was a mistake. come back and call me a pig BUT DO SOMETHING. THIS IS LIKE POKING A STONE WITH A STICK

Jungkook’s only neuron: if you didn’t see it as I BEGGED YOU TO PLEASE FORGET I EVEN SAID THAT

He continued to rant into the group chat, monologuing about the many reasons behind your silence. It was — truth be told — abnormal of you to skip a chance to roast him, but there were more important matters to attend to. With a quick swish of your finger you silenced him, and with it the guilt that could come.

In movements far too quick to be your own, you plugged in the earphones in your ear, checked that they were well connected to your device — the last thing you needed was to interrupt the chastic beauty of that recently-cleaned bathroom with Jungkook’s devilish moans — and moved back to the video. The recording started over, but you were quick to move back to the time stamp you had stopped in — 1:38, precisely and, yes, you had memorized.

Now, that was when your morning started to go downhill, because it was when you decided to, as you had mentioned before, defenestrate the rest of your pride, and do the dirty work. Kind of: you were a bit out of your senses, but not enough to finger the baby maker in the middle of a public bathroom, no matter how clean it was.

So, you settled for the second best.

As the video resumed, you noticed the wetness that had spread between your thighs, only increasing as those lust-filled images flashed before your gaze. There was something alluring about the idea of the Great Jeon Jungkook playing with himself, allowing for his hips to roll against his hand as temptation overtook his senses; his legs so weak that he could barely move in that gruesomely pink bathroom floor. He was edging himself, that you could tell from the continuous biting of his lower lip, and the quivering pants that left his mouth, and he was adoring every second of his self-inflicted torture.

Moans and curses poured from his chest like ambrosia, and your other hand was quick to undo the buttons of your pants. You could see him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes closed, as his parted lips groaned for release, his muscles clenching again and again; cock throbbing in his hands. Perhaps, in an instant of patience, he would rub himself through his underwear until he was hard enough, or maybe he would grind against his bed until he could no long take the pleasure that monopolized his carnal desires.

Not that you were far away from that fate.

Hastily, you placed your hand in the space between your jeans and your underwear, finding your clit instantly. Your fingers traced circles over your sensitive spot, but the numbed feeling was awfully frustrating to endure. Just like the fucking video before your eyes was; the rise and fall of Jungkook’s abdomen as he reached for his own orgasm; the teasing of his thumb against the top of his member; the weak, whimper-like moans that infested your mind like a damn egyptian plague. Everything about that situation was frustrating, and it was tearing you from the inside out.

As he so tenderly caressed his length, you wondered at the rubor that had conquered his neck, the toned expanse of his chest. Jeon Jungkook had lost the intimidating arrogance that seemed to envelope his entire being. There was no arrogance in the curve of his mouth when opened his mouth in a whimper that broke before it could be captured by the microphone of his phone. There was no pride in the way he tilted his head back, fingers tight around his cock as he fucked himself relentlessly.

Despite the lack of friction, the sole image of his muscles tensing as he approached his release was enough to have you trembling. The memento of his hands roaming your waist was clear in your mind when you pressed your clit just a bit harder, wishing it was him the one to tease you with the same cruelly he was teasing himself. The wonders his fingers could do, his tongue. As his moans became louder, your movements turned erratic, almost desperate. It threatened to break you, but you could not find reason within yourself to stop.

Still, Jungkook wouldn’t be Jungkook if he didn't find a way to ruin your fucking day.

The vibration of your phone in your hands made your heart jump inside your chest and, for an instant, you swore you had seen the light at the end of the tunnel, and the angels calling you to join them above. But no — it was the human-shaped devil named Jungkook and he was, quite literally, calling you.

With a stressed-out groan, you barely thought about your actions before sliding to answer his call, his previous moans being immediately replaced by static. “What the fuck do you want, Jungkook?”

From the other sound of the line, you heard a shuffle. “Oh great, you picked up,” he spoke. You couldn’t tell if his voice was permeated by annoyance or by relief and, quite honestly, you didn’t give a flying fuck — you had your hands pressed against the soaked mess that had become your panties in a public bathroom, and the last thing you needed was to psychologically characterize his timbre based upon the inflections of his tone. “We have to talk.”

Honestly? Fuck it. The guy had already ruined one rub-out session for you, and he wouldn’t do the same thing again; not when the only detail you could think about had been the ridiculously hot video he had sent you. “No we don’t,” you threw back, breathing growing sharp as you continued your motions — slower this time. “This is not the time, and you have nothing—” You paused, biting back a moan, then masking it as a cough. Okay, you certainly didn’t think that through. “You have nothing to justify.”

“You know I do.” He hesitated. “It’s about the video.”

“Of course it’s about the fucking video,” you interrupted, throwing your head back against the wall. You were starting to get close, and you knew it. “Are you narcissistic enough to jerk off to a video of you... jerking off? This is the weirdest case of inception I’ve ever seen.”

Jungkook paused on the other end. “Inception? But that has nothing to do with my family.”

Good god, have mercy on your soul. “Inception, Jungkook.” You groaned. “Not incest.”

“Not the point, smart ass,” he was quick to reply and — fuck Jungkook and his honey voice — you could have sworn he had almost stuttered. There was no way you could have known for sure, for your own mind was wandering elsewhere and you were barely containing the tremors of your own voice. “I really need to see you and explain, so tell me where to go and I’ll be there.”

“Jungkook,” you called, and your brain thought it was a great moment to bring the images you had been trying to avoid, of Jungkook in-between your legs licking your wetness away as you whimpered his name. At the end of the line there was only static to match your error, so you rapidly added. “There’s no need to explain. I really have no interest in seeing you beat your meat to whatever Arctic Monkeys song you chose as your sex jam, so I don’t really care about your reasons—”

“It’s very normal to do something like this, okay? Some guys do it all the time. I do it all the time to, you know, see how I perform and everything.” You had long lost track of his explanation. The murmur of his voice was just an echo at the back of your head, for you had never stopped pressing your fingers against your clit, trying to subdue the sweet pain threatening to take over. Your brain was overworked — and overwhelmed — and Jungkook blabbing his way out of shame was not annoying enough to stop you. “It’s like monitoring yourself, and It makes me a better lover. A better partner, if you want. Y-you should be glad I’m doing this—”

As Jungkook ranted on, you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt him, for you knew the moment you tried to speak only a moan would emerge from your throat.

Jungkook, however, took your silence as a punishment. “So you really watched it, huh?” He chuckled, humorless. “Guess I fucked up again—”

For fuck’s sake not now. The way he hesitated — just for a second — before he spoke and his voice refused to come out untainted but in a rough whisper, was the last thing you needed to complete your descent into Dante’s nine circles of hell.

Before you could notice, the faintest whimper dripped from your lips, a broken chord that sounded like his name.

Well, if you wanted to stop Jungkook from blabbering, that was the way to go.

Maybe if you had been a little more in your senses, the realization that you had just moaned out the fragmented syllables of his name would have seemed like an apocalyptic forewarning for the chaos that would ensue. But no: you were far too gone to care, and it had fulfilled your initial purpose of silencing the annoying insect buzzing in your earphones.

But of course, Jungkook wouldn’t let it go so easily.

On the other end of the line, he cleared his throat. “What… are you doing?” He paused, seeming to take in all the details he had ever so naively overlooked aforetime — the vague panting that departed from in-between your lips, the eagerness in which you rushed to finish your sentences. Something odd was taking place, and even his one living neuron could perceive it. “You sound like you just ran a marathon. ”

“It’s a debate class, genius, things got… heated,” and that had been the perfect word to use. “I’m not doing anything.”

There was a second of hesitation before he spoke up again. “Isn’t Namjoon in that class with you?”

“Yes. Congrats on the goldfish memory.” You breathed out — okay, you could maybe hold yourself back. You were getting close, for your legs were already shaking, and you could barely keep your eyes open for longer than a couple seconds and, if you had holden tight for that long, you could do it again. Just no more moaning. Not in front of him. Later, maybe.

“That’s weird,” Jungkook spoke. Fuck his voice, fuck the way his whimpers and cries for release still echoed inside your head; fuck the delicious sight of his head thrown back, and his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. Fuck him. Fuck you. Hopefully. “I just texted him and he said that you left to go to the bathroom. For lady pro—”

“—It’s a different Namjoon.” What kind of answer was that? You were barely thinking. “Listen, Jungkook, I’m not in the mood to talk, so maybe you could just… call later?”

“There’s only one Namjoon, and we both know his lame lactose-intolerant ass.” Jungkook could be sharp if he thought very hard. Maybe the ruptured thoughts crossing your mind, the weakness spreading all over your body, was what he had needed to fight on equal ground — and somehow you knew he would be very proud of this victory. “You received the video, and then went to the bathroom?” He was trying to organize the timeline of your befall, and for once his solitary neuron was cooperating, while yours were just running around, screaming like hippies high on acid. “Did you go to the bathroom… to watch it?”

“Jungkook, just drop it.” You whined, the sound needier than you had ever intended. “Let’s talk later, okay? I need to go back to class now. Call me later if you want and we’ll talk about the stupid party or your rampant narcissism, whatever you want.”

“I’ll wait for you after class—” He didn’t sound convinced. The raggedness of your voice was a good reason to be puzzled, but the guy was apparently too idle to hang up and do something useful. “We can go somewhere to discuss the party details if you’re up. You know, like a business meeting but in like a café or something.”

“I have a test tomorrow.” Holding to the last threads of rationality, you understood it was time to end the conversation. “Nice talking to you, Jungkook. Bye.”

Jungkook would have questions, of course, but you could only think of him, his hands, his soft lips against your own. Your hand returned to torture your clit, this time unrestricted by his presence on the phone. It was ridiculously easy to find the right pace, to bring back the memory of his weights pressing against your own, his tongue discovering your mouth. Jungkook could mess your existence even in your imagination and that was something you had to confess you had never expected.

Call ended, you allowed yourself to suspire in relief, dwelling in the absence of his frequent interrogations, and the pleasure that was overtaking your senses. The silence, however, was short-lived: you forgot you still had the video playing in the background.

Now, some things in life are beautifully synchronized: the fly of birds as the sun sets; your favorite sad song playing while you’re driving in the rain… Jungkook’s dragged-out moans echoing inside your head the same instant you found your high. You know, the simple stuff. The kind of stuff that makes you lay awake at night in horror.

Your legs trembled when you reached your orgasm, waves of heat running up and down your thighs as you fought to suppress a prolonged whimper. On your hands, the device called for your attention, and your parted eyes barely got the glimpse of a smaller, digitally edited Jungkook covering his abs with the white strands of his own relief; hips rolling against his palm as his mouth, open, cried out in sheer alleviation. You loved that sight, and it pushed you even further down your decay into inferno.

But, of course, the video didn’t stop there. It didn’t fade into black, as you had expected, because you deserved a plot twist to end the day. You had depleted your luck reserves long ago — probably during a math exam — so it was highly unlikely that the guy would just finish the deed and turn off the camera.

No, instead Jungkook continued teasing his cock until his thighs trembled with the excess of his own caresses; limbs flinching under the tides of his exaggerated stimulation. He could not bite back he suspires of despair as he rode a second orgasm and muttered an unintelligible prayer.

Wait, scratch that. You rewinded the video, to listen for a second time. In this occasion you closed your eyes, because his fucked-out face was far too distracting for your brain to keep up with so many stimuli.

It was, actually, very intelligible.

Jeon Jungkook was not praying, but moaning your name.

That, nevertheless, was a secret that would die with you. Or so you hoped.

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like-rain-or-confetti · 5 years

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Alec’s Secret (Alec Volturi x Reader)

Edward had threatened Alec that he'd tell you Alec's secret if he didn't leave. It was a very immature tactic but would work on any teenager of his age. However, no one seemed to consider what would happen after they left.

It had been a couple of hours and you were alone. You were certain someone was hunting you down and you didn't want to pick a fight. You were inexperienced. Your best outcome was to out run the threat. When you realised it was a Volturi. You immediately assumed the worst. Alec cornered you. Usually that wouldn't be possible in a forest but it certainly is when his mist is enveloping you both. "What are you doing?" You asked worried. "Making sure you don't run." He responded. "Would running be a good idea?" "No." "How about this, I promise not to run just...pull back the mist?" Alec inspected you for a moment before doing what you asked.

"Am I in trouble?" "No." He said again. "Then what's this about? I have nothing to do with Bella's change if that's-" "It's not that." Alec cut you off sharply. "I don't take kindly to threats." Your mind immediately flashed back to Edward's mentioning of Alec's secret. "I don't need to know about it." You shook your head, trying to appease him as he grew more and more agitated. "You don't, but you will. I'd rather I tell you than him." His tone was maliciously and dripping with hate, this threat really bothering him. It made you worried what it could possibly be to force such a reaction. You were worried Alec had done something if you were honest, something to hurt you and you didn't know. You stayed of in silence, eyes shifting around nervously.

Alec was pacing, seemingly trying to control himself. "He's trying to take advantage of me." "What?" "He can't follow the law so he manipulates everything and used me to do it!" Alec grew more erratic as you tried to make sense of what he was saying worried what would happen if you didn't. "How did he take advantage of you? I don't-" "He used my feelings for you to make sure he can continue to play his little game!" You inhaled sharply. "Feelings? What feelings?" "Don't pretend to be oblivious, you know exactly what I mean." “H-How long has this-?” “It doesn’t matter. It is wrong! Yet i can’t help it (Y/N), I can’t!” Silence overcame you both and Alec’s eyed darted to you before he immediately grasped your jaw, tightly but not painfully. “You can’t tell anyone. No one hears about this, understand? Don’t talk about it to any of them.” “Does Aro know?” “Of course, as do the rest of my coven but no one else is to know. Do you understand? You tell no one, you don’t even think about it.” You nodded frantically and Alec let go. He stared at you still, as though to drive the point across without actually talking. He seemed to grow agitated once again before growling. You didn’t have time to process as he lunged towards you yet only connected his lips to your cheek briefly before rushing away, leaving you alone. You exhaled, uncertain of what just happened.

As you promised, you didn’t say anything to anyone when you got back, You sat reading a book, or at least trying to. You couldn’t pay attention to the words on the page. “It is wrong!” Those words were bizarre to say the least but not completely out of bounds. To have such an affection for a Cullen, given the history was indeed pretty wrong, especially on his part. A new scent hit your nostrils to see Edward looking in on you as he leaned on your door frame. He had a solemn look. “He didn’t tell you everything.” “What?” “There’s more to his words than you realise. He didn’t tell you everything.” “What didn’t he tell me?” Immediately, Carlisle’s hand was gripping Edwards shoulder in silent warning. “They deserve to know.” “You don’t have the right to tell them in this way.” “Carlisle, no one knows how to tell them. They still need to know.” “Know what?” You interrupted, worried.

Carlisle looked at you sympathetically. He moved in to sit beside you, Esme soon entering, giving Edward a look but moving to sit beside her husband. You were really worried now. “There’s more to your change than we originally knew.” Edward finally said. “You were randomly attacked, you didn’t know who it was but they had bit you and left you. After many missed calls from Bella, you were found by Carlisle. That’s all that was ever known.” Carlisle continued. “When Emmett and Jasper took you out on your first hunt, we got a visitor.” Carlisle explained.

An unusual smell came from outside and Edwards eyes shifted to Carlisle, telling him someone was outside the door and looking for him. Carlisle silently nodded and headed to the door. He was surprised to see Vladimir, who looked slightly distressed but made a good attempt at it. Himself and Carlisle weren’t exactly friends, they knew of each other, but that was it. They had crossed paths multiple times but never did they consider one another friends, so to see Vladimir at his door with such an expression was unusual. He wasted no time on pleasantries, asking ‘if the human was alright’. Vladimir knew you were under the Cullen’s care but Carlisle never thought for a moment that he’d care. However, he didn’t believe in coincidences in this case. How would Vladimir have known you were hurt in the first place? “What did you do, Vladimir?” Carlisle said warily. Vladimir immediately explained everything. “The witch twin! He had been hunting me down, to the point i was certain the Volturi were done keeping me around but he made a bargain, please understand Carlisle, I had to do it to survive! He told me if I changed the human, i’d get to live longer. I did it and thought it’d be over with but the guilt...i’ve never felt such guilt. I don’t know what they plan for the human Carlisle but i simply couldn’t leave without saying something.” “...They’re alright, they survived the change. Why would the boy make you do that?” “I wish i knew. He didn’t offer explanation. I understand if you couldn’t forgive me, but i just had to know since they...they’re from my venom now.” Carlisle nodded. “I understand.” “Don’t tell them about me, not yet.” Vladimir asked. “Let them grow accustomed to this life.” Carlisle nodded again. “That we can agree on. I’ll take them under my wing, let them be accustomed to this life.” Whilst Carlisle held some anger to Vladimir, he couldn’t expect him to give up his life and clearly, Vladimir didn’t feel content with the circumstances to begin with. However he did admire the responsibility Vladimir held towards you. He had known vampires to feel a kind of responsibility to those they change but he never pinned Vladimir as one of them.

The shock hit you in waves. “We decided it would be better for you to become accustomed to this life before we dealt with this. We don’t know what Alec is thinking, but our priority was you.” You were silent as Carlisle finished, unable to find the words. “(Y/N)...” Carlisle lightly took your wrist and you looked up to meet his eyes. “I understand that this is a lot to take in and what ever you want to do about this, we will completely support you with. I ask that you trust me because i want to help you, all of this has been in your best interest.” With that explanation, you couldn’t bring yourself to be angry with Carlisle or the Cullen’s for hiding this. Instead, only one thing came to mind, something that made Edward straighten. A determined look washed over your face as you remembered Alec’s previous confession. There was only one thing left to do.

You were quiet on the journey to Volterra. Running over what you could possibly say to Alec when you got there. You weren’t angry, surprisingly, since you were forced to leave your human life for his own selfish desires but you needed to hear it from him. You needed to hear that your theory was either right or wrong. Judging by his confession, despite considering his feelings wrong, he threatened someone to change you because he was attracted to you. After all, he couldn’t do it himself. The Volturi don’t take on newborns. Carlisle felt a wave of panic when he fell behind you as you sped up seeing the castle. He called on you to wait but you didn’t listen.

You marched up to the receptionist, demanding that she called Alec down. At first she looked at you in alarm, seemingly oblivious but you weren’t patient. “Hello? You do understand English! Get Alec down here and get him down here now, before i go searching the halls for him!” Your head snapped towards the hallway where Felix, Demetri and Alec came forward. Seeing Alec, you immediately marched up towards him. Felix and Demetri moved to block Alec from you, Felix taking your arms and holding you back. “Now, now. Calm down.” You remembered that they might have been worried you didn’t have your newborn tendencies in control. “Don’t worry, I’m not doing to hurt him.” You assured them quickly but they didn’t let up. “Just tell me one thing Alec.” Alec looked at you silently. “Did you have me changed because you like me? Is that the only reason?” Perhaps Alec couldn’t find the words, maybe he didn’t want to tell you but his eyes betrayed him. Such a theory wasn’t knew knowledge to him and you were certain you knew exactly why. You stared at him for a long time, you now finding it difficult to speak or even find the words to say. Slowly you turned around, you weren’t ready for the truth even if you thought you had been. Now having it, you regretted coming to Italy.

Alec’s words caught you, stopping you immediately. “I couldn’t trust the Cullen’s to change you.” You turned to look at Alec. Carlisle also looked surprised. “They seem almost incapable of changing the other one and whilst I have no issue with her time approaching to be killed, I cannot allow you to follow the same path. I cannot trust them to have your best interests at heart and so I will. I’ll always think of you first. They cannot offer the same stand point. They’re too busy with the human girl.” “Alec, you took me from my human life. My parents are grieving for me.” “I know, and I’m sorry. It is better this way.” “You rolled a dice with my life, if I survived the change…you couldn’t have been there to help me.” “This is the law, (Y/N). You staying human meant you would die. There is no other option. Changing you meant that you could have lived, which you did. I trusted the Cullen’s to take care of you and I was right. I just can’t trust them to take the necessary choices.” Alec examined your face, you looked hurt and shocked. “This is the reality of our kind. You couldn’t be protected from it forever. I was willing to be the villain if it meant you’d live and were safe.” “Was…?” You pointed out, eyes narrowing. Alec smirked. “I can see it. You can try to hate me. You can be angry with me all you like but it’s very apparent you don’t hate me. Dare I say it, you can’t bring yourself to hate me because you know the truth. It was much easier to consider me evil, taking you from a life without consent. However, now you know I didn’t do it out of selfishness. I did it because you weren’t safe and you weren’t a priority. Not with the human girl, around. You were second place and you would soon pay the price for it. I did a necessary evil to save you.”

You were taken aback. This was very different to the Alec who was in panic that you might find out his feelings. Yet, you understood where he was coming from. “I really hope you’re not lying.” Alec smirked with a quick scoff. “I don’t lie. Some would wish I did lie, a lie can sometimes be much sweeter.” “You did this with me in mind?” “I’ll admit, perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for my possible fleeting feelings but I did it and if you want an apology, I can assure you that you won’t get one. However, I will say it wasn’t my intention for you to know just how your change came to be.” Alec send a pointed, hard look to Carlisle. “How could you let me continue, not knowing how it happened? You threatened someone!” “A much better alternative to killing him, wouldn’t you agree?” Alec tilted his head. “How did you know about him anyway?” “He came to the house after the change. He felt terrible.” Carlisle spoke up, swallowing hard. Alec couldn’t help but smile with a surprised look. “Well, i never thought him to be so caring.” “This isn’t funny, Alec.” You said, horrified that he could ever see humour in this situation. Alec sent you a understanding look though the smile didn’t fade. “So I assume it’s safe to say you didn’t keep your promise to me.” “I did, to the best of my ability. Edward was around and thought something was off.” Alec sighed. “He causes so much problems.” He lightly shook his head. “Not to worry, I suppose it’s better you know now.” “Promise me you’re not lying.” You said immediately. “Like you promised me?” “This isn’t funny. I mean it. You can’t lie to me about this.” “I never lie.” Alec repeated. “So is that your promise to me. That you’ve been completely honest with me?” “Yes.” You backed down, nodding. “Thank you.”

You looked up at Demetri and Felix. “If I approach him, will you stop me?” “They won’t.” Alec responded before they could. Clearly he was the one in charge here. The two stepped aside and you approached him, staring him down. “Are you sure about this?” Felix asked Alec. “If they were going to try to hurt me, they would have.” “You’re right.” You said. “I am a little angry at you but I don’t hate you.” Alec chewed back the urge to correct your grammar and continued to stare you down.

You reached out, pinching the fabric of Alec’s jacket covering his upper arms. You then leaned in pressing a kiss to his cheek before stepping back. You turned to Carlisle. “I want to go home now.” You wasted no time leaving. Alec folded his arms as Demetri cocked his head. The three guards watching you leave. Carlisle nodded to them before following behind you. Carlisle would leave you to your thoughts for a while before checking on you. You needed time more than anything.

#twilight #volturi #the volturi #vampire!reader #alec volturi #the cullens

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centerofstupidity · 6 years

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Fifty Shades of Grey Chapter 2 Snark

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Interested in reading the previous Fifty Shades of Grey chapter snarks? They can be found here.

Next E.L. James Book Snark: Fifty Shades Darker (Fifty Shades of Grey # 2).

Chapter Summary: Christian Grey tracks Ana down at her job. Of course, this isn't depicted as being creepy. And Ana's subconscious talks to her.

The chapter starts with Ana’s heart pounding. And since Ana is a mega klutz, she stumbles out the elevator door.

Then, Ana runs out of the building like her ass was on fire.

It’s raining outside and thank God that she doesn’t complain. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

No man has ever affected me the way Christian Grey has, and I cannot fathom why.

You are Bella Swan and he is Edward Cullen. Get that through your thick skull.

Is it his looks? His civility? Wealth? Power? I don’t understand my irrational reaction.

Attracted to his looks? Hell yes!

Attracted to his civility? The day that Christian isn’t a douche is the day when demons will be ice-skating in Hell.

And let’s be honest: Both Ana and Bella think that douchebags are sexy.

Attracted to his wealth? Yes!

Like Bella, Ana is only attracted to a rich guy and non-wealthy guys are annoying and icky.

Ana being turned on by Christian’s “power” is the equivalent of Bella being turned on by Edward’s creepy behavior.

Ana needs to lean against a “steel” pillar to stop her from swooning.

I valiantly attempt to calm down and gather my thoughts.

Nothing screams “strong female protagonist” like being a damsel in a Victorian melodrama.

Ana makes a point about how her “heart steadies to its regular rhythm” and how she gets in her car only when she can breathe normally.

Ana is leaving the city limits and she is feeling foolish and embarrassed about the interview.

Surely I’m overreacting to something that’s imaginary.

What does she think is imaginary? Is it the interview or Christian being sexually attracted to her?

Okay, so he’s very attractive, confident, commanding, at ease with himself—but on the flip side, he’s arrogant, and for all his impeccable manners, he’s autocratic and cold.

If a handsome guy is a douchebag, any woman with common sense and self-respect would ignore his good looks and hate his guts because they can’t forget his douchebaggery.

And we all know that Ana does not have any common sense and self-respect.

Well, on the surface.

“Bad romance novels have taught me that a handsome and controlling douchebag becomes a nice guy once he falls in love a shy and beautiful virgin.”

An involuntary shiver runs down my spine.

“I love it when a guy is an asshole!”

And yes, you ARE welcome to that image.

He may be arrogant, but then he has a right to be—he’s accomplished so much at such a young age.

Ana, just because someone is successful, it doesn’t give them the right to be a douchebag.

He doesn’t suffer fools gladly, but why should he?

Oh, Ana… If that were the case, then he wouldn’t be smitten with you.

Again, I’m irritated that Kate didn’t give me a brief biography.

I’ll let this gif speak for itself.

While cruising toward Interstate 5, my mind continues to wander.

Ana, you need to have a brain before it can wander. And besides…

I’m truly perplexed as to what makes someone so driven to succeed.

For someone that is supposed to be the smartest person in the world, Ana is such a blockhead.

People are driven to succeed because they want to better themselves, they want to climb up the social ladder or they have a dream that they want to come true.

Some of his answers were so cryptic—as if he had a hidden agenda.

Or maybe he doesn’t want to divulge his entire life story to a blithering moron.

But since this was once a Twilight fanfic and Ana is Bella Swan, of course, Christian is going to have some secrets.

Since Ana is such a good friend, she proceeds to bitch and moan about Kate and having to do the interview.

She even says “ugh!”

The adoption and asking him if he was gay! I shudder.

Did Ana seriously act as if being adopted and the idea of someone being gay as something repulsive?

Ground, swallow me up now!

Unfortunately, this doesn’t happen.

Ana whines that “Every time I think of that question in the future, I will cringe with embarrassment.”

Damn Katherine Kavanagh!

Ana checks the speedometer and she is driving more cautiously than normal.

And I pity any person who has to share the road with such a reckless driver.

And I know it’s the memory of those penetrating gray eyes gazing at me and a stern voice telling me to drive carefully.

Fun WTF Fact: In the movie New Moon, Bella hallucinates seeing Edward while in the book Bella hallucinates hearing his voice.

Shaking my head, I realize that Grey’s more like a man twice his age.

It is because, in another story, he is a sparklepire.

Ana tells herself to forget the interview even though “it’s been a very interesting experience.”

Put it behind you. I never have to see him again.

Christian Grey is going to track Ana down and buy kinky kidnapping equipment at her job.

Of course, this is not going to be depicted as creepy.

Instead, the reader is supposed to swooning over Christian’s hotness.

Ana is now happy after convincing herself that she will never see Christian Cullen again.

She turns on the radio and turns the volume up loud. The music is “thumping indie rock”.

But since this is Twilight minus the sparklepires and cuddlewolves, Ana is listening to Muse.

Ana is driving fast and describes where she lives.

Ana talks about how “I pay peanuts for rent” and she has been living in the apartment with Kate for four years.

Ana whines about how Kate wants “a blow-by-blow account” and how her friend is “tenacious”.

I hope I won’t have to elaborate much beyond what was said during the interview.

“Talking to someone that isn’t a Sue sucks!”

Kate’s reputation as a school journalist is riding on the interview… But Ana is making everything all about her.

Fuck you, Ana.

Kate is sitting in “our living area”. E.L. James, in the U.S., we would call it a family room or a living room.

Kate is studying for finals.

She’s still in her pink flannel pajamas decorated with cute little rabbits, the ones she reserves for the aftermath of breaking up with boyfriends, for assorted illnesses, and for general moody depression.

It is painfully obvious that we are supposed to see Kate as a whore.

Ana makes a pointed comment that Kate only wears cute pajamas when she is “breaking up with boyfriends, for assorted illnesses, and for general moody depression.”

In the Twilight Saga, respectable women look frumpy and they must be forced to wear nice clothes. Only harlots dress nicely.

And in the same shitty series, if a character has premarital sex and is sexually attracted to people, they are a nasty slut that should be branded with a scarlet “s”.

Fun WTF Fact: Kate was Rosalie Hale in Master of the Universe.

It explains why Ana hates Kate so much.

Kate hugs her. She thanks Ana for doing the interview and starts asking questions.

Oh no—here we go, the Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition

Fuck you, Ana. I wish someone would put her on the rack and give it several turns.

So Ana acts like Kate’s questions are so difficult and whines that she doesn’t know what to say. She finally comes up with an answer.

Ana tells Kate that she is glad that the interview is over and that she will never see Christian again.

Somewhere the Volturi said the word bullshit and then faked coughing. Ana also says that he is “really young.”

The fact that Ana kept remaking about Christian being “young” is odd considering the fact that he is only six years older than her.

Ana complains that Kate looked at her “innocently”.

“Don’t you look so innocent. Why didn’t you give me a biography? He made me feel like such an idiot for skimping on basic research.”

So far, Ana has only bitched and moaned about helping her friend and acted like a martyr.

And now she has is giving her friend shit. Isn’t Ana a great friend?

Kate apologizes to Ana even though she hasn’t done anything wrong. Ana huffs at the apology.

“Mostly he was courteous, formal, slightly stuffy—like he’s old before his time. He doesn’t talk like a man of twenty-something.”

“It is because he is a one-hundred-year-old vampire.”

Yes, Christian was formal. But Christian didn’t speak like he was from olden times. It wasn’t as if he said “salutations” or “I will see you anon.”

Ana asks how old Christian is and Kate says that he is twenty-seven. Kate apologizes for not briefing Ana and she will start transcribing the interview.

They start making small talk. Eventually, Ana leaves so she can go to work at a hardware store.

Ana has worked at the store for over four years and she is crap at anything DIY. Ana does her shift and then returns home.

Kate is typing furiously on her laptop. Ana whines that she is “exhausted”.

Ana kvetches that she needs to study for finals. Kate tells Ana that she did a great job and how it is obvious that Christian wanted to spend time with her.

Ana blushes and her heart is aflutter.

That wasn’t the reason, surely.

This sentence is obnoxious because we all know that Christian is Ana’s one tru luv and they are going to spend the rest of their lives having non-sparkly adventures.

He just wanted to show me around so I could see that he was lord of all he surveyed.

Uh, no. Christian wanted to rape her.

In the unreadable Midnight Sun ripoff, Christian has a sudden urge to drag Ana out of her chair, spank her, and then fuck her on the desk with her hands tied behind her back.

Ana is bitting her lip like Kristen Stewart in the Twilight movie. Kate asks if Ana took any notes and Ana says no.

Kate says that’s fine and remarks about how Christian is a “Good-looking son of a bitch”.

Ana tries to say that she is not interested.

“Oh, come on, Ana—even you can’t be immune to his looks.” She arches a perfect eyebrow at me.

I get, E.L. James. You want me to think Kate is a bitch and a nasty slut.

I’m supposed to interpret “even you can’t be immune to his looks” as Kate being catty.

What’s worse is that I’m expected to LIKE and feeling sorry for poor wittle Ana for having to deal with the evil blonde.

But the only person who is a bitch is Ana.

Ana has complained (very loudly I might add) about doing her “friend” a favor and acts like a martyr.

And then to add a cherry on top of the shit sundae, Ana starts making all these catty comments.

So far, every time Kate is either mentioned or appears in the story, E.L. James goes out of her way to paint Kate as a terrible person.

I’m starting to think that maybe Kate is based on someone that E.L. James despises in real life…

Ana is blushing because she thinks Christian is so hawt.

I distract her with flattery, always a good ploy.

Ana says that Kate would have done a better job. But Kate tells Ana that she did a great job and Christian “practically offered you a job”.

Ana decides that she is done with this conversation and makes a “hasty retreat” to the kitchen. Kate asks Ana what she really thinks of Christian.

Ana whines that Kate is “inquisitive” and “why can’t she just let this go?”

“He’s very driven, controlling, arrogant—scary, but very charismatic. I can understand the fascination,” I add truthfully, hoping this will shut her up once and for all.

You know what… Everytime that Ana acts like a bitch, I’ll let this gif speak for itself…

“You, fascinated by a man? That’s a first,” she snorts.

“He isn’t a man! He is a Gary Stu!”

Ana starts to make a sandwich and asks why Kate wanted to know if Christian was gay.

“Whenever he’s in the society pages, he never has a date.”

Do society pages exist anymore? It seems more likely that Christian would be talked about in a celebrity magazine/celebrity gossip T.V. show or in the tabloids.

Ana complains that the question and the whole interview as “embarrassing”. She claims that she is happy that she will never see Christian again.

Kate says that it couldn’t be that bad as Christian is smitten with her.

Taken with me? Now Kate’s being ridiculous.

For the first time, I actually agree with Ana. She has the personality of roadkill.

They make sandwiches and don’t talk about Christian for the rest of the evening. Kate is working on the article and while Ana is working on an essay about Tess of the d’Urbervilles.

Damn, that woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong century.

Is E.L. James seriously saying that Tess of the d’Urbervilles is a story about tru luv and seduction?

Ana finishes her essay at midnight and then goes to bed.

That night I dream of dark places, bleak, cold white floors, and gray eyes.

Let’s marvel at E.L. James’ clever and subtle symbolism.

Nothing special happens for the rest of the week.

Kate is studying for her finals and working on her last edition of the student newspaper.

And Ana is also studying for her finals and working at her job. Ana is glad that she doesn’t have to “endure the sight” of Kate’s pink bunny PJs.

And we have tedious descriptions.

Ana is talking to her mom who lives in Georgia to Georgia to “check on her”. But Ana claims that she called so mom can wish her luck on the final exams.

It turns out that Carla (Ana’s mom) has “the attention span of a goldfish” and has a husband who is “keeping an eye on her.”

Translation: she’s Renée Dwyer (Bella’s mom)

Ana’s mom asks how is she doing and Ana says she is fine.

“Ana? Have you met someone?” Wow … how does she do that?

Because she is Renée Dwyer and you are Bella Swan.

Carla is excited at the idea of Ana having a boyfriend. Ana tells her mom that she doesn’t have a boyfriend.

Ana quickly changes the subject and says "distraction is the best policy.”

Later on, Ana talks to her stepdad and “Mom’s Husband Number Two”.

Ana says that she considers him to be her father and she has his surname. So Ana’s stepdad Ray is not a “talker”, watches sports on TV, and goes “fly-fishing”. That doesn’t sound familiar…

Ray is a skilled carpenter and the reason I know the difference between a hawk and a handsaw.

Leave Shakespeare out of this, E.L. James. He is a talented playwright and has influenced the English language.

Your only claim to fame is writing a Twilight fanfic, changing a few things, and making a shit load of money when it was published.

In case anyone is wondering, the words “a hawk from a handsaw” comes from Hamlet.

“I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I Know a hawk from a handsaw” (Hamlet, Act II, scene ii).

On Friday night, Ana and Kate want to have some fun. Jacob Black José Rodriguez shows up and is holding a bottle of champagne.

José is the first person Ana met at college and they have “been friends ever since."

Not only do we share a sense of humor,

Like Bella, Ana thinks she has Wildean wit.

So Ray and José Senior are best friends and "were in the same army unit together."

José is majoring in engineering but he has a passion for photography. Ana, Kate, and José start talking.

José reveals that the Portland Place Gallery is going to exhibit his photos next month.

“That’s amazing—congratulations!” Delighted for him, I hug him again.

They decide to celebrate. José wants Ana and Kate to go to the opening.

José and I are good friends, but I know deep down inside he’d like to be more.

"I’m like the prettiest girl in the world! All men adore me!”

He’s cute and funny, but he’s just not for me.

“I only like guys who are douchebags and treat me like crap!”

Ana says that José is “like the brother I never had.” I seriously hope that Ana doesn’t string him along.

It was bad enough when Bella was stringing guys along…

Katherine often teases me that I’m missing the need-a-boyfriend gene, but the truth is I just haven’t met anyone who … well, whom I’m attracted to, even though part of me longs for the fabled trembling knees, heart-in-my-mouth, butterflies-in-my-belly moments.

“I want Prince Charming to ride on a white horse and sweep me off my feet!”

Sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with me.

Ana, there is something VERY wrong with you.

Perhaps I’ve spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes, and consequently, my ideals and expectations are far too high.

Ana having unrealistic expectations about relationships? Shocking!

Ana meets a handsome and rich guy. The guy is a total douche.

But she felt an instant electric connection, so that means it is tru luv!

Yet she rejects a handsome and funny guy who treats her nicely.

But in reality, nobody’s ever made me feel like that.

Oh shit! Ana’s subconscious is whispering to Ana.

Ana thinks about Christian and the interview. She is quick to “banish” the thought and does not want to be “going there."

Ana "wince[s] at the memory” of asking if Christian is gay.

I know I’ve dreamed about him most nights since then, but that’s just to purge the awful experience from my system, surely.

Nope. You want Christian to bang you like a screen door in a hurricane.

Ana watches José open the champagne bottle.

He’s tall, and in his jeans and T-shirt, he’s all shoulders and muscles, tanned skin, dark hair, and burning dark eyes. Yes, José’s pretty hot, but I think he’s finally getting the message: we’re just friends.

For “just friends”, Ana just talked about how hot José is.

Does anyone seriously believe that José only sees Ana as a friend?

And I really hate it when a character’s physical description reads like a grocery list.

I like subtle character description that is sprinkled throughout the entire story.

Ana remarks how the cork made a “loud pop” and José smiled at her. It is now Saturday and Ana is working at her job.

She whines that it is a “nightmare” and the store “besieged by do-it-yourselfers."

Ana is checking the catalog numbers with the items that the store needs and has ordered. Then Christian shows up.

Ana swoons at the "bold gray gaze” of Christian Grey who is staring at her.

Heart failure.

Ana is dead!

* Looks through the rest of chapter two. *

Dammit! Ana is still alive!

Christian refers to Ana as “Miss Steele” and how meeting her is “a pleasant surprise."

Ana thinks to herself "holy crap.”

What the hell is he doing here, looking all outdoorsy with his tousled hair and in his cream chunky-knit sweater, jeans, and walking boots?

If a guy who I only met once showed up at my job and proceeded to make small talk, I wouldn’t be admiring his clothing and swooning over his “tousled hair.”

After he left the building, I would call the cops and file a restraining order. Because this guy has “stalker” written all over him.

I think my mouth has popped open, and I can’t locate my brain or my voice.

Ana, you don’t have a brain. There is no point in trying to look for something that doesn’t exist.

And your voice? It is located near to your icy black heart, you bitch.

Ana whispers his name and Christian smirks “as if he’s enjoying some private joke.”

Christian claims that he was in the area but he is so full of shit.

His voice is warm and husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel … or something.

Just wow… Clearly, this is the best metaphor ever written in the history of the English language.

I shake my head to gather my wits.

Ana, you need to have wits before you can gather them.

Her heart is pounding “at a frantic tempo” and she is blushing.

My memories of him did not do him justice. He’s not merely good-looking—he’s the epitome of male beauty, breathtaking, and he’s here.

It was really annoying when S. Meyer kept describing Edward as being a sparkling and perfect Adonis…

Now it is obnoxious that E.L. James keeps blithering on about Christian being a studmuffin and how he is God’s gift to womankind.

Ana can’t believe that the sexiest man in the universe is at her job. Her “cognitive functions are restored” and it is “reconnected with the rest of my body.”

Ana says that her name is Ana and asks how she can help him. Christian finds this to be amusing and tells her that he needs some things.

He wants some cable ties and Ana offers to show him where they are located. Of course, she is all hot and bothered.

Ana talks about how Christian frowning “mars” his “lovely” eyebrow. Ana is so smitten with Christian that she tries not to fall over her own feet.

Ana muses (for what it seems like the billionth time) that Christian is handsome. She notices that he has long fingers and he has a “beautifully” manicured hand.

Ana wonders why Christian is in Portland and why is he at the store.

And from a very tiny, underused part of my brain—probably located at the base of my medulla oblongata near where my subconscious dwells—comes the thought: He’s here to see you.

Ana dismisses the idea as “preposterous” because “why would this beautiful, powerful, urbane man want to see me?"

Ana asks if Christian is in Portland on business and he says he is "visiting the WSU farming division.”

See? Not here to find you at all, my subconscious sneers at me, loud, proud, and pouty.

Ana hearing a voice inside her head?

Christian selects a pair of cable ties and Ana wonders what he is going to do with them. Christian also wants some masking tape.

She asks if he is redecorating. He says no and then smirks. Ana is convinced that he is “laughing at me.”

Am I that funny? Funny looking?

Shut up, you stupid cow. Stop trying to get pity points.

Ana walks Christian to the decorating aisle where the masking tape is located. Christian asks her how long she has worked at the store.

She blushes “brightly.”

Why the hell does he have this effect on me?

You are Bella Swan and he is Edward Cullen. Get a clue.

And he is your designated one tru luv.

I feel like I’m fourteen years old—gauche, as always, and out of place.

You are STILL gauche.

Stop trying to make everyone feel sorry for you.

She says that she has worked at the store for four years.

She is so flustered that she has to distract herself by selecting two masking tapes with different widths.

He chooses the one with the wider width.

Our fingers brush very briefly, and the current is there again, zapping through me like I’ve touched an exposed wire.

It was bad enough when Ana and Christian felt an instant electric spark in chapter 1 and how it must be a sign of tru luv.

But they are feeling it again for the SECOND time?

I gasp involuntarily as I feel it all the way down to somewhere dark and unexplored, deep in my belly.

For a book that was supposed to be the hottest and the most scandalous erotic novel since The Lustful Turk was published…

It uses the unerotic description of “all the way down to somewhere dark and unexplored.”

Ana tries to find her “equilibrium.” Ana asks if Christian wants anything else and she is horny.

Christian wants some rope. Ana blushes for the thousandth time. She asks what type of rope Christian wants and his eyes are “darkening.”

Ana avoids looking at Christian and cuts the five yards of rope.

And since Ana is a mega klutz like Bella, she remarks that “By some miracle, I manage not to remove a finger with my knife.”

Christian asks if she was ever a Girl Scout. Ana swoons over his “sculptured, sensual lips.”

Ana replies that group activities are not her thing to which he asks her “What is your thing, Anastasia?”

Try to be cool, Ana, my tortured subconscious begs on bended knee.

Ana whispers “Books.”

But inside, my subconscious is screaming: You! You are my thing!

Ana dismisses the idea because there is no way he would want a girl like her.

Christian asks her “what kind of books?"

Like Bella, she gets prickly when Edward Christian asks her questions. Ana likes the classics and British literature.

This isn’t surprising since she is a Bella Swan knock-off.

Ana asks if Christian needs anything else. She remarks how Christian’s fingers on his face are "beguiling”.

He asks her “What else would you recommend?”

Ana blushes and her gaze "strays to his snug jeans.” She replies “coveralls” and Christian is amused.

Ana says that he wouldn’t want to ruin his clothes.

“I could always take them off.” He smirks.

If he takes his pants off, he will be naked. Somebody fetch Ana some smelling salts and a fainting couch!

Ana says that she must be “the color of The Communist Manifesto."

I try to dismiss the unwelcome image of him without jeans.

Everyone knows that Ana wants to ride his disco stick.

She asks if Christian needs anything else and he ignores the question. Instead, he asks how the article is coming along.

Ana is glad that he asked her "an easy question.”

I grasp it tightly with two hands as if it were a life raft, and I go for honesty.

She replies that Kate is the editor and writer of the newspaper.

Ana also says that Kate was “devastated” that she couldn’t do the interview and doesn’t have any original photographs of him.

He asks what type of photographs does Kate want. At first, Ana doesn’t know but then asks him if he would be willing to do a photo shoot.

Christian agrees and gives her his cell phone number. He is then quick to say that she “needs to call before ten.”

Ana thinks to herself that Kate is going to be “thrilled.” But let’s be honest, Ana is happier than a pig in shit.

Paul, Ana’s friend shows up. Paul and Ana make small talk. Paul drapes an arm over Ana’s shoulder.

Ana notices that Christian is “watching us like a hawk.”

Christian is pissed. Ana introduces Paul to Christian. Once Paul finds out that Christian is the Christian Grey, he is starstruck.

Grey gives a polite smile but he is still miffed. Paul says goodbye and goes into the stockroom.

Ana asks if Christian wants anything else and he says no. Christian is still pissed off. Ana wonders what she did to upset him.

I ring up the rope, coveralls, masking tape, and cable ties.

Ana is supposed to be so smart but warning bells are not going off in her head.

A guy that she only met once shows up at her job and then he buys a kidnapping kit.

But Ana can’t stop thinking about how Christian is so sexy. Ana’s heart is all aflutter when he says her name.

She talks about how “his tongue caresses my name.” Christian says to call him if she wants him to do the photo shoot.

Christian says goodbye and says that he is glad that Kate couldn’t do the interview.

After Christian leaves, Ana says that his hotness has made her “a quivering mass of raging female hormones.”

And Ana finally (although reluctantly) admits that she finds Christian to be “attractive, very attractive."

She has only spent the first two chapters describing how handsome he is. Even his eyebrows are sexy.

But it’s a lost cause, I know, and I sigh with bittersweet regret. It was just a coincidence, his coming here.

In Chapter 1, Ana says that Christian Grey is a very busy man and that his time is precious.

But Christian took time out of his day to drive three hours out of the way to see her.

Ana plans to admire Christian from afar. The chapter ends with Ana calling Kate so they can organize the photo shoot.

#Fifty Shades of Grey #anti el james #anti fifty shades of grey #anti fifty shades #bad fiction #chapter snark #snark #book snark

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