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dishonoredrpg · 4 years

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Congratulations, NAY! You’ve been accepted for the role of THE LOVERS with the faceclaim of ASHLEY MOORE. Admin Cas: I think we can all agree that The Lovers is a difficult concept to pin down. It’s a task in itself to balance the devotion they have for The World, her world, while not sacrificing who they are at their core. But, Nay, you were certainly up to the task. There’s something so lovely about Prudence, so beautiful and admirable, but something hungry. So much of her life revolves around The World, but that does not mean that Prudence doesn’t have a story of her own to live out. I particularly enjoyed the way you likened her story unfolding to a caterpillar grows into its chrysalis; to become a butterfly or moth, either is possible. I can’t wait to see what you do with her!

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Out-of-Character.

NAME: nay

PRONOUNS: she / her

AGE: twenty-two

TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: gmt + 5 ; and i’d say my activity ( especially with quarantine, still ) is at a 7/10. lately, i have been trying to write every day, and that means at least a reply every day – even if posted through queue after being written on a better writing day.

ANYTHING ELSE?: i wrote this way too quickly, because i suck at being patient and didn’t want to wait a week to turn in an app, so forgive me for the sinful typos committed in my haste! this definitely isn’t as polished as i wish it were. also? there are possibly too many insect-facts in this and if that shit squicks you, i am so sorry.

In-Character.

SKELETON: the lovers

K E Y W O R D S

UPRIGHT: love, harmony, relationships, values alignment, choices

REVERSED: self-love, disharmony, imbalance, misalignment of values

| source: x

NAME: prudence “prue” luna lockhart

→ ETYMOLOGY ;

P R U D E N C E / “intelligence; discretion, foresight; wisdom to see what is suitable or profitable;” also one of the four cardinal virtues, "wisdom to see what is virtuous;" from Old French prudence (13th Century) and directly from Latin prudentia “a foreseeing, foresight, sagacity, practical judgment,” contraction of providentia “foresight” (see providence). Secondary sense of “wisdom” (late 14th Century) is preserved in jurisprudence.

L U N A / “the moon,” especially personified in the Roman goddess answered to Greek Selene; also, an alchemical name for “silver”; from Latin luna “moon, goddess of the moon,” from PIE *leuksna- (source, also: of Old Church Slavonic luna “moon,” Old Prussian lauxnos “stars,” Middle Irish luan “light, moon”), suffixed form of root *leuk- “light, brightness.” The luna moth (1841, American English) so-called for the crescent-shaped eye-spots on its wings.

L O C K H A R T / Scottish: of uncertain origin, probably from a Germanic personal name composed of the elements loc 'lock', 'bolt' + hard 'hardy', 'brave', 'strong'. English: occupational name for a herdsman in charge of a sheep or cattlefold, from Old English loc 'enclosure', 'fold' + hierde 'herd(er)'.

| sources: x & x

FACECLAIM: zendaya coleman ( or ashley moore or natali litvinova — in order of preference! )

AGE: three-&-twenty for zendaya / four-&-twenty for ashley or natali

→ BIRTHDATE: fantasy-equivalent of july 8th; the most cancer baby there ever was!

DETAILS: it took me forever to find a skeleton that made me feel the enduring love i’ve been searching for beyond the ability to see a story, and as it always, unfailingly, tends to happen for the rare occasion where i opt for a softer character, it caught me completely off-guard. initially, surveying the tags, i was leaning towards the skeletons of the wheel of fortune, the hierophant, the devil, the hermit – all of whom, in my opinion, are characters who have been shaped by a darkness, be it inherent or inflicted, that’s rendered them with shadows or edges. with the lovers, that’s not the case. they are tender: like a paramour’s kiss, or a bruise, or an overripe peach you can sink your fingers into. and maybe it’s my unflinching desire to subvert the stereotypical presumption of what it is to be soft, the fragility noted in their skeleton does not translate to weakness or meekness to me; i enjoy that they are both tender, and possess the ability to be chaotic, and manipulative, and impulsive and desperate and vindictive and defensive. what i love most about this particular skeleton is the sheer humanness of them.

that, and their love for THE WORLD. for a moment there, that was definitely what drew me to them; this idea of love as religion had my mind reeling like a siken poem, rhapsodising about a love so powerful, it can alter a person. this is partially because i am the most hopeful and shameless of romantics, and partially because love, its nuances, and its powers and vulnerabilities genuinely, deeply interest me. however, working my way deeper into this application-form, that changed.

it is the love that the lovers — or prue, to me, now — holds for THE WORLD is one that attracted me. it is her own potential for growth that’s kept me in her clutches, besotted, wishing to tell her story. hers is a tale, i believe, of metamorphosis: a question i posed in a later section, as well as what lurks in my mind, is whether that metamorphosis is one that leads to a moth or a butterfly. did you know it is moths who come from cocoons, but butterflies who come from a chrysalis? moths, who are drawn to light. butterflies, who drink nectar, also help spread the seeds to grow more of the flowers. both which come from a caterpillar, whose first meal is typically the egg they come from. what i enjoy is the ambivalence that presents itself — or, as i like to call it: potential. there are several directions that prue’s story could go in, several choices that could define her, and it’s all up in the air until it isn’t anymore.

i wish i could tell you that my EUREKA! moment wasn’t insect-research, but i can’t, because that would be a lie. i’m not even sorry.

BACKGROUND:

☉ CONTENT WARNING(s): infant death, stillbirth, body horror imagery, insects

come, dear reader, won’t you settle in? let me spin you a tale—a tangled web of one, indeed—about a girl who smells sweet as white roses and is as satiny to touch as her gossamer-thin garments. this girl is just a girl; she has never been the girl. even so, this story is her story, and though she is not equipped to be the heroine of a story, or so she believes, she is the heart of this one. like a heart, she is swollen with the fullness of blood: thus, let me etch this tale into parchment with the blood of love, in crimson-ink of metallic-reek.

it comes in three parts: a beginning, a middle, an ending; it is for you, dear reader, to decide which is which.

let us anoint this tale the title of METAMORPHOSIS –

✧✧✧

i. THE EGG ;

before there is the girl, there is a man and a woman who live in faerûn by the sahrnian sea, bound together by a contract that is decidedly not the forest-fire love faerie-tales herald. yet that is not to say that love never comes, just because love comes after. when it does, it is a calm love, a steady one; a love that has never cost one to lose one’s mind, and has been grown, meticulously, over the passage of time and the trials and tribulations have littered the path of a match made by those who are older and have witnessed so much more life than them. it is not for years that the woman feels nature stirring within her body’s vessel, and when it does, it is with the undying bestowing upon her a gift that makes up lost time.

when the girl comes, she comes from a belly more full than most. it makes sense that it is so, for there were meant to be two of them: a boy, and a girl. one might suppose that, in the end, there still were, yet only one in the way it mattered.

( you decide, dear reader: which is which? )

she is born — and it is days, and days, before her time. no matter, a name still awaits her. prudence, they call her. pierce, he would have been.

from the beginning, she emerges from the ruddy cave of her mother’s womb incomplete. a greyish pallor remains where life ought to be warming her skin; it is as if he leeched enough life from her for him to choke on, and she siphoned her brother’s death through the connection only womb-mates share – and this is what she will hear in later years, when she asks about him.

she will wish she hadn’t.

✧✧✧

ii. THE CATERPILLAR ;

( when you feel unforgiving, dear reader, remember: it is a caterpillar’s job to eat; without an abundance of consumption, it cannot survive. it is this abundance of consumption that allows for the production of silk. it is this same abundance of consumption that is its undoing. )

years do not care if one is ready to bear them; they come, when they must, as they must. and so comes to pass the childhood that tries to swallow prudence lockhart whole, over and over and over –

as an infant, blood is filtered out of her body and fresh blood poured into her veins. it helps, some. it does not help enough, yet there is nothing more to be done; her parents must take her home, and pray to the undying god for the rest. they pray, and pray, and pray, as two people of noble blood and lucrative business-dealings rarely stoop to, for lack of need to need it.

as a child, prue is still a frail slip of a thing, with bones jutting out against taut bronze flesh in protest. fill yourself up, her mother pleads. you must survive, beloved. she offers her savory meals and sweet decadence twice, and anything she takes a suggestion of a liking to just as many times more — and it works; it takes time, but work it does, and prue’s cheeks round some and at times flush rosily, some weakness giving way to the minute miracles that are her tardy signs of life. it is not much, but it is enough, isn’t it? it is to the mother who has warred for her existence. who still combats for prue’s survival.

when does the girl begin to feel that it might be her that her mother is fighting, when every frustration about her lessness, her inherent lessness, begins to steal the breath from prue’s lungs – for is it not her who is all poetry & rot, wisp-thin & about as flimsy? her heart fills with hot, vital blood then: it beats loud and clear as a belltower’s toll, cutting through all else with the potency of its truth. this is as much as i am, she beseeches in turn, as her mother had once done, except not, for graceless tears roll down her cheeks in impassioned rivulets and the voice that thickens with feeling.

how will you survive the world, beloved? her mother implores.

i might not, prue knows. i might not, she accepts.

it is the caterpillar’s destiny to unbecome –

✧✧✧

iii. THE CHRYSALIS ;

– unbecoming takes time.

it takes long enough that both mother and daughter grow used to it, initially, and then around it, ultimately.

there is, after-all, the distraction of warfare engrained in the backbone of their precious faerûn. there is the journey to tyrholm, the settling into the dregs of hightown – not quite lowtown-bound, and not-quite-not. it fazes her parents to not be profound upper-echelons of society; her father, a man used to running the business inherited by the men in the lockhart family, and her mother, who had spent all of her time worrying for prudence and never had to about wealth. but prue, for her part, is accustomed to the notion of not-quite-right / not-quite-enough; the feeling might not be home, per se, and yet she recognises the walls of the house all the same – could walk its rooms in the dark, if she had to.

it is circumstance that calls the lockharts to castle tyrholm.

it tears at her parents: her father believes in not squandering opportunity, and her mother would rather squander anything but prudence. even THE EMPRESS sees it, does she not, when she cants prudence’s head and observes her fragility? the king’s reputation precedes itself; would a heart as true and innocent as hers survive a court like his? within minutes, it is too late to ponder it any longer. within minutes, it is no longer a choice, but a deal already struck. just like a match: it cannot be unstruck. one can endeavour to douse a fire, but it is not the same as un-starting it.

for a time, the castle is one more place prue does not feel she belongs; it is alright, she tells herself. you are alright, she says – because her mother is no longer by her side telling her anymore, is she? silken thread ensnares the girl when THE WORLD knocks on her door one evening; it is lilly-white, the radiance of their smile. prue does not understand why, then; she is nothing exceptional, she flounders for the right thing to do, and even then, she gets it wrong so much more often than she ever gets it right. perhaps, she will never understand why – why they are so kind, why they make her feel seen, why…

and still, this once, there is no question of whether it is enough. they are more than enough.

for the first time in her life, prue discovers what it is to be warm.

✧✧✧

tell me, dear reader – is this a butterfly’s or moth’s metamorphosis?

PLOT IDEAS:

❂ “love, for you, / is larger than the usual romantic love. it’s like religion. it’s terrifying.” – richard siken

see, i told you: siken’s poetry reeling through my mind. religion is a really interesting ideology to link the notion of love to, because there are so many boundaries one crosses in the name of faith. at times, we call it the lesser evil. other times, we say it’s letting the end justify the means. we’re all trying to be holy.

this is where i want to start discussing potential plots for prue — but i want to, first, preface it by saying that though THE WORLD is very much at the centre of her story, it is because prue’s unparalleled love for them is central to her life-story; i treat it like an experiment, where prue is the dependent variable and her love for THE WORLD is the independent variable that incites action & reaction, placed in different situations. it is, that said, the most potent of variables, and can hardly be called controlled, despite how desperately prue herself attempts to keep it to the corner-alcove they hide the truth of their love in. this love is not a selfish love; it is strong, and all-consuming, and maddening – more than a soldier’s swearing fealty to a kingdom, it is the most devout of prophets bowing their head at the altar of the divine deity they put their faith in. that’s pretty intense stuff, right? i want to see what it elicits.

this can be a double-edged sword, and in fact, i’d be rooting for it to be. on one hand, i want to explore how this love has made prue strong. i want to see how it has made her braver, and more resilient. i want to explore that she took THE EMPRESS deeming her fragile-seeming, and how she’s donned it as armour, because it is that same delicacy that has made THE WORLD love them. i want to explore it through interactions with the royal family foremost — THE WORLD, of course, but THE EMPRESS, THE EMPEROR, THE CHARIOT, and if it works out, maybe even septimus himself. it’s rare for prue to not let things slip, and roll off her back, but that is when it comes to her. her love for THE WORLD makes her want to protect them, fiercely; it lights a fire in her soul that has never been lit before. and fire? yes, it warms – but oh, it burns, too, doesn’t it? it has the power to ruin. and i don’t want to limit that exploration to just the royal family; i want to explore it with the animosity-potential between her and TEMPERANCE as well, but that’s one plot i’ll talk more about further down.

there are little ideas floating around in my head that i would love to explore with the respective players, but i could imagine a friendship between prue ( probably due to her sweet-tooth luring her, too often, to the kitchens ) with THE HANGED MAN – and to explore a bond, that could further be complicated, potentially, by prue not being able to talk about what she and THE WORLD share. or, more chaotically: for her to share it, and for THE HANGED MAN to let it slip to THE DEVIL? how far would prue go to protect this? and would she, if it presented the opportunity for the future where she and her love get to be together is pushed closer by it? how selfless is her love? how powerful would fear be against it?

i’m honestly just a firm believer that, when our backs are against the wall, that’s when we find out who we really are. and that’s the main storyline i want to explore with prue, more than anything else, because i think that she has never been pushed to that edge and, because of it, she’s never copped up to her own identity. she met and fell in love with THE WORLD at such a young age, so quickly and wholly, that it has shaped so much of what her ideal self is. i want to see how her ideal self would differ from the reality of her. and i want to see her confront it.

❂ “you are going to break your promise. i understand. and i hold my hands over the ears of my heart, so that i will not hate you.” – catherynne m. valente

very recently, someone put forth an idea to me: love is a promise. that’s what i want to talk about here. there’s a sense i got — both from the lovers’ skeleton, and THE WORLD’s — that both of them know that there is a time-limit on their relationship. or, at the very least, whatever room there is for prue in their future, it isn’t a room where they share the bed. but i also get a sense that they know it, and neither of them talk about it. i think a part of prue feels like the amount of good that THE WORLD has brought her will last her a lifetime, and i think that isn’t true, so much as she’s hoping it is? i want to see the two of them talk about it. i want to see prue wanting them to fight her love. i want prue to admit she wants to be chosen over duty, or a marriage with someone who isn’t her, or fear, and i want to see what something like that would do to their relationship. or hell, i want someone who has power over THE WORLD, like THE EMPEROR, or THE EMPRESS, or THE CHARIOT or THE HIGH PRIESTESS to find out about the true nature of their relationship and force that choice once they even start talking about, so the situation can force their hands even if they don’t force one another’s.

there’s so much between the two of them i want to dissect and play with, it apparently needed to separate quotations. oops?

❂ “all things truly wicked start from innocence.” – ernest hemingway

we all have the occasional ( or perhaps more, no judgement! ) propensity for wickedness. i feel really passionately about softer people not being safe from cravings for chaotic behaviour, even if they might, in prue’s case, justify it through the innocence of intention. a lot of her initial effusion is of a heady amalgamation of sweetness and delicacy; i want to see her display a dash of something that takes leave from that, and surprises even herself. now, though not at all set-in-stone and totally up to be discussed with the respective player, i could easily see it rearing its head in the dynamic between herself and TEMPERANCE. how many times will she be shooed away from a room with a beautiful woman and the love of prue’s life? it terrifies prue, the idea that THE WORLD will slip out of her fingers like the sands of time, so much sooner than she is ready for. i’m curious: would there be a moment where she would not leave? where she would make the nature of their relationship known? would she ever snap back, or continue to smile tenderly, bow her head, and listen?

i’m also dying to explore the potential plot brewing between the lovers and DEATH. part of this is a total shot in the dark, so bear with me, but – imagine this: there is a darkness in them that tugs at the darkness in her; they are hungry, and she is a starving-thing, and what a pairing they could make. imagine prue venturing into lowtown with them, and for the alternative reality DEATH’s hunger dangles that could open a door to an actual future with THE WORLD? i want there to be temptation — towards darkness and chaos, yes, because i am a sucker for moral ambiguity, but also for the loyalist that prue is to be lured by the revolt.

❂ “you cut up a thing that’s alive and beautiful to find out how it’s alive and why it’s beautiful, and before you know it, it’s neither of those things, and you’re standing there with blood on your face and tears in your sight and only the terrible ache of guilt to show for it.” – clive barker

it is difficult for even me, as i delve into prue’s psyche, to be a wordsmith adept enough to encapsulate the sheer magnitude of her love for her lover. let me tell you this, though: it is love that is devout enough that prue would sacrifice herself before it. she would shirk what she believes she knows of herself to fight for THE WORLD. but there is little in the universe free of the shackles of consequence. it feels inevitable to me that, at some point, sooner or later, prue will commit an action or reaction in the name of love — and then, she will have to live with it. it’s even better to me for her to go beyond her limits for this love that is everything to her, and then find herself turning to them to sacrifice for her as freely as she does them… and for them to, perhaps, not be able to. or perhaps, for it to turn prue into a person she herself can no longer recognise. there was a part of me that wanted to already cook something up, and to toss it into the writing sample portion, but i decided otherwise. if i get to write this character, i want to start in a place that is different, and develop my way towards a darker pasture, so to speak.

a darker pasture, however, is where i want her to at least visit. in a setting such as this one, i don’t think it can be helped, truthfully.

❂ “each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.” – anaïs nin

while i was trying to knit this application together into one whole piece, a recurring concern for me has been that i want this character to have its own story, and the lines of that can get awfully blurry when the character is one the feels as intensely as prue lockhart does. she is such a hypersensitive creature; more than anything, it is her interactions that penetrate her, and alter her, and cause the discord between the sides that are wont to tug at her, who stands in the most Lawful Neutral of spots. i’ve decided to lean into it, though, because i genuinely believe that it poses an intriguing dichotomy between her inherent nature and the nurture that moulds it beyond the obvious, magnitudinal parental hand in it. that said, there are actual several different potential connections i want to toy with here. ( one of which is THE HANGED MAN, but i already mentioned that above, and didn’t want to be repetitive! )

THE MAGICIAN / listen, prue is so used to being the Softest. but this little baby is even softer than her, and every time they flinch, she just wants to help. she tries, at every turn, to be kind and i really want to see her become a friend / confidant for them? maybe learn about their magic. to maybe give them a secret of her own back ;) gal pals, gimme. i need something wholesome; it can’t all be agony & ecstasy, god damn it.

WHEEL OF FORTUNE / it is pure coincidence that throws the two of them together as often as it does. but prue is the sort to believe the best in people, and is never too arrogant to admit where she’s been wrong. this bond is where her feelings towards magic first begins to see development, and i am so, so, so interested in toying with it. even more so when you throw in their bond with THE EMPEROR — does faze prue a little — and his relationship with THE WORLD in there. such potential for growth and drama.

DEVIL / for years, every time prue has seen them, she has walked in the other direction. otherworldliness is unnatural enough as it is, but the proof of what they can do scars them with evidence of it – and so, out of genuine fear, she’s evaded them. and yet, coincidental interactions with the WHEEL OF FORTUNE has made prue think twice. a look at the haunting in their eyes has made her think thrice. i want to play with that dynamic!!!

THE MOON / hers is the only magic that does not scare prue, i think. it is the only one she is not too intimidated to ask questions about, because she truly is extremely curious when she takes an interest in something, and a lifetime of listening in the background has given prue a taste for stories. i feel like she could bring out something adventurous and wild within prue? a part which prue never got to explore, because she grew up with a very, very cautious mother who kept a very close eye on her and treated her like glass because prue really does look fragile. i want a bond to make her feel stronger!

THE STAR / if there is one thing that prue has grown up to be, it is a true romantic. it makes him something of a kindred spirit; something in her could reach out to something in him, creating a kindred bond that makes her feel seen in a way that only THE WORLD has ever given her.

THE TOWER / because she was raised right by it, the sea is where prue feels most at home, and she always has. i could see there being something about THE TOWER’s stories making her feel warm inside, and thus, her braving a friendship with them. i think she could use the wisdom of someone older? and there’s just something about them that made prue shyly scuff her toe at the ground, like – an oliver twist moment of, “can i have more, please?”

THE FOOL / stories talk about princes and princesses. the dragon’s fire, the nobel steed. prue looks at him, and she wonders: where are the stories about them? the princess’ lover, and the king’s soldier – those who fight for the crown, without wearing it. it could make for such an unlikely bond, but such an intriguing one, i think? i got the idea, and i just could not shake it. humour me!

and 0f course, there is potential with literally every other character, too, but i honestly ran out of time before i could come up with something for them too. i’m down to flesh it out~

❂ “we grow. it hurts at first.” – sylvia plath

at the start of her story, prue starts off as a fragile underdog. she turns blossoms into a lover, and it turns her fiercer – which is not the same thing as being fierce, but it’s a start. what i want for her — what any writer wants for their muses, i reckon — is growth. i want prue, who has grown up sheltered and protected, to experience pain and hardship. i want her experiences to call into question what she thinks she knows, flip it on its head, and make her think. i want her to think, and to change her mind, and to change it again. i want her to confront her fears, and her uncomfortable truths, and to experience all the tempestuous emotions she’s spent her entire life keeping at bay, having convinced herself they could shatter her. i want her to unearth her endurance, to test its limits. i want to explore her undoings and remakings. what i enjoy most about her is the volatility of her that most would not see coming, because volatile and tempestuous and emotional is what she is. she is all heart, all the time, everywhere. can you imagine how visceral that has to make every experience?

imagine the potential for growth if she let herself just feel all of it. if she opened herself up, and let the universe rush in, instead of walking on eggshells as she does. just imagine. that’s what i want for her.

CHARACTER DEATH: i could, of course, see prue meeting an end. in fact, there are a couple of circumstances that could make it deliciously poetic, even.

Writing Sample.

They match each other: step for step; right, then left –

Hardly anyone turns to look at the two of them anymore. The two of them, making their way down the hall, with their dark heads leaned close together, like two plants growing towards one another when the sun leaves them for too long. It might be more peculiar to see them apart. There is a strange pride that twists a corner of Prue’s mouth at the unshakeable knowledge of the fact – a hint of tremendous pride at the small, precious claim THE WORLD makes with the statement of their proximity. It is everything to her, and perhaps it is what lends to the smoothness of her gait as they move past the portrait-eyes that scrutinise it, as if they await another of the many stumbles they’ve already witnessed. Prue floats beside them.

Her heart is gone, long-since pressed into the palm of their hand. Does it weigh them down? She could pretend it is why she keeps their fingers curled into the crook of her elbow, helping them carry the heaviness of the heart she’s given away to them; Prue holds fast to that touch with her own hand covering their fingers, unwilling to give up those four pressure-points that burn her flesh through the silk of her sleeve for anything, enough to shield it with the dome of her palm.

“ – Prudence?”

Their hand flinches at the same time as Prue’s grip on their fingers tightens. As if a chill blew in, and froze the marrow in her bones, the girl stills in place. It is not because she recognises the voice. It is because she ought to have done, for what the cant of her head finds is a woman whose gaze mirrors her own: amber-warm, almond-shaped. It is her same mouth that speaks the syllables of a variation of her names that does not belong to her, not as Prue does.

“Mama –” she says, her voice so quiet, she fears it might not reach her.

She is too far away now. Even mere footsteps away, she is too far.

Extras.

✦ INSPIRATIONS → anne shirley cuthbert – from anne of green gables; tiana – from princess & the frog; missandei of naath – from game of thrones; margaery tyrell / house tyrell – from a song of ice & fire; madame lebedeva – from deathless; effie trinket – from the hunger games series; jack pearson – from this is us; patroclus – from the song of achilles;

✦ INSPIRATION TAG → here;

✦ PINTEREST BOARD → here.

#accepted #accepted: the lovers

5 notes · View notes

hobiwonder · 5 years

Text

You don’t want my love | (m)

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader, Jin x Reader

Genre: PWP.

Warnings: Smut. PWP. Infidelity (cheating), degradation, hair pulling, unprotected sex, oral, choking, cum play (little). Dub/con, please read with caution. Yoongi is a major asshole. Reader has serious issues regarding her sex drive holy moly.

Words: 7k

Summary: You think you’re over yoongi. You’ve started a new life with your new boyfriend Jin who is almost everything you could ask for. Almost.

A/N: this is a gift for @yminie and she knows why. also this is fantasy. Do not come at me with “u support cheating?!?!?!?!?!” because instead of blocking you, i will be mean right back to you. and i dont wanna do that. zero proof read like always lmao. I wanna be super sappy and happy on my blog. but i wILL be mean if you say dumb shit to me that I have clearly said in this note that I don’t condone it. It’s just in a realm of fantasy. To all my other readers who won’t send me dumb asks, enjoy and let me know what you think :))

(also imagine this buff yoongi while u read it ajbkkjbfolwrfnl)

“He’s coming here”

“wait what? I-”

“Quick, duck! Y/N just du- Hey Yoongi!” Sunmi has shoved your head – actually no – your entire body down from where you’d been sitting beside her, to under the table so your approaching ex-boyfriend/fuckbuddy didn’t see you.

“Sunmi,” hearing his low voice has automatically sent a signal to your heart mucles to start contracting and pump blood in to your veins faster as your breathing picks up.

“On your lunch break now?”

“Yeah. Lee gave me an hour this time,” the scoff is clear in his voice as you listen from under the table, “something about ‘becoming a statue if I didn’t stretch my limbs.’”

“He’s not wrong you drip. Still a mystery to me how you can sit at that desk and be able to walk afterwards.”

“I’ll have you know,” the screech of the chair across from Sunmi has you muttering curses under your breath as you realise that Yoongi is pulling out a chair to take a seat, “my limbs work just fine. Especially my hips.” The flirtatious tone is evident and you know that he’s trying to bag Sunmi.

He has been ever since you guys broke up. Actually that’s putting it way too politely. He broke up with you. That’s right. He broke up with you because he’d been spending too much time at work – voluntarily. Working at a music production label was not something you had thought that one would want to do overtime. But Yoongi was different. He loved his job as an associate producer for one of the hip-hop duo that the company managed. Which meant that his job was a very important one and included too many responsibilities for you to count or remember. You just had met him because one of your friends – Sunmi to be exact – had set you up on a blind date with a co-worker of her own – Kim Seokjin. He was handsome, polite, held a higher position than Yoongi and actually was his boss for some time before he had been promoted once again but this time – as a partner of the company.

Seokjin came from an affluent family and possessed the funds to be able to have a partnership with a music production company at such a young age. That was partially why Sunmi had begged for you to go out on a date with him. You had just graduated and were working as a waitress while you scoured the web for jobs as a speech pathologist. So one day you decided, why not? If nothing else, the 29 year old could be your sugar daddy that you desperately needed right now. Judge all you want.

But alas, instead of dating your potential boyfriend/sugar daddy, you’d been roped in to a relationship – that sounds like a nicer way to put the relationship you had with Yoongi – you’d end up meeting Yoongi at both of their workplace when you’d visited Seokjin upon his request to have lunch after your first date. And since that day – you’d never felt so sexually frustrated than when you were in the presence of that man. Yoongi had given you bedroom eyes the whole time you’d been trying to pay attention to whatever Seokjin had been trying to say. Don’t get you wrong, Seokjin was beautiful and you were attracted to him. You were. But the kind of attraction you had to Yoongi as he watched you from behind Seokjin, sitting on the table behind where the two of you sat for your lunch – it had you sweaty and slick between your legs in record time.

So the next day you’d apologised to Seokjin and said that you were too busy looking for a job to date someone seriously and that if he could wait, then you would happily want to continue getting to know each other after you felt left less worried about being jobless… and getting wet at the thought of his employee between your legs. And the day after that, you’d asked Sunmi for Yoongi’s number and fucked him in a bathroom stall of the bar that both of you had met at later that evening. Well, it had mostly been him fucking the daylights out of you while you’d tried to catch your breath. You’d thought that maybe he would have reservations about getting involved with his boss’s date. But nope. He’d put out faster than you had anticipated and had your legs spread in the bathroom stall not even three hours later.

And after 4 months of a unhealthily sexual relationship that sometimes felt like a real one and sometimes felt like being friends with benefits – the bastard had broken things off. So what had you done as revenge? That’s right – gone back to Seokjin, your current boyfriend that you were very much happy with. As long as you avoided Yoongi. He melted your brain and made you into a nymphomaniac who wanted to jump his bones. So here you were, hiding under a table – trying to avoid the man who brought you so close to being disloyal to your picture perfect boyfriend. But him flirting with your best friend was only making it harder because this senseless jealousy that you should not be feeling was bubbling up like a volcano.

“Ah hahaha… yeah, uh good joke.” Sunmi’s fake nervous laugh was too obviously fake so you tap her leg in warning that she was being weird which was not good when Yoongi was around. He was a master at reading people and figuring them out. He knew exactly what they meant and wanted or didn’t and that’s what also made him great in bed. Fuck. You were thinking about him in bed again. Naked. His thi-

“Shut up!” You whispered a little too loudly at your own brain before slapping a hand over your mouth.

“Excuse me?” Yoongi sounded confused and you hiped to the lord above that Sunmi could weave herway out of this.

“S-Sorry,” she fakes laugh again, just a smidge better than the last one, “this song is stuck in my head since yesterday. The one that you’ve been working on actually.” Nice save.

“Oh yeah?” The flirtatiousness in his smug tone had you frowning again. Ugh he was such a slut.

“Yup. Totally,” then she proceeds beautifully hm the tune of the track he must have been working on. God, your best friend had a voice of an angel. And fucking sexy. Guess Yoongi must have thought the same too because the next thing he does is ask her back to his studio. Which is equivalent to; let’s fuck in Yoongi speak. You knew because he’d told you about his previous lays whenever he needed to relieve himself.

“Uhh haha yeah.. uh sure why not.”

“Well, I’m going to go ‘stretch my limbs’ like Lee said, enjoy your lunch gorgeous.” You can almost hear him wink.

Making sure he’s gone, Sunmi then taps you that the coast is clear so you can come up and straighten your back that has started to cramp. And while you’re rolling your shoulder blades to get the cramps out – you finally see the flush on her face.

“What the fuck Sunmi!”

“What?” She whisper-yells right back. “Don’t blame me for responding to his sex eyes, bitch. He’s hot.”

“Ugh, I know. I need to go see my man now. I swear Yoongi’s like a contagious disease for me.”

“Girl,” Sunmi sighs, “I don’t know how you do it. Coming here to see Seokjin-ssi while he breathes here too. Especially since you’ve had that dic-”

“Okay! See you later. Love you, bye!” You scurry out of there before she can finish her sentence and remind you that you indeed have. And you needed to stay loyal to your man who took off time whenever you had your period to look after you. Yes. Seokjin was that kind of sweet and you loved him for it.

Taking the elevator up to the level where his office was, you make your way to his office after the receptionist greets you politely and you smile right back. She was so cute. But when you find it absolutely empty, your eyebrows are furrowing, scrolling through your text messages to see if he mentioned anywhere that he won’t be in the office at this time. But you come up short so instead, you ask his PA when you step outside to look around – thinking maybe he’s lurking there anywhere. Your Jin was a sweet, social butterfly. It won’t be the first time he’s gone on a round to say hello to everyone on their lunch break while you’ve waited in his office.

“Oh he’s just gone to get lunch with Woo PD-nim. Would you like me to order some lunch for you to be brought to the office Ma’am?”

“No that’s okay,” you smile back, “I already ate. I’ll just be waiting then.”

You’re making your way back to the office – which was past a corridor to decrease the level of noise from the reception on days when it was crowdy. Opening the door you step inside and begin closing the door before a foot has wedged between the small space that remained between the door and the wall.

“What-” Yoongi has pushed inside the office, pushing you slightly so you stumble back a few steps while he locks the door behind him.

“What are you doing?!” The disbelief in your voice is clear but Yoongi seems to not care at all, only bringing a finger to his lips slowly while a sly smile takes place on his beautiful mouth. Fuck, you needed to focus.

“You thought you could avoid me, y/n?” you’re walking backwards – a reflex when yoongi’s predatory gaze is watching your every move while he walks forward.

“Y-You can’t be in here.”

“Oh I can’t?” His condescending tone makes you angry and wet all at the same time. You’ve hit the edge of Jin’s desk now while Yoongi has continued to walk forward until he’s right there – less than a step away. Then his gaze flickers down to your chest.

“Your nipples seem to want me here.” When he looks back up, you’ve all but been holding your breath, eyes furrowed as you look at him questioningly, afraid of what he’ll do. What he’ll make you do. But most of all – what you know you won’t fight enough to not do.

“J-Jin will be here any minute. What the fuck do you want?” His hands go beside you on either sides, trapping you between his taller frame as he leans his head down to look you directly in your eyes.

“That’s exactly what I want.” Huh?

“What?”

“To fuck you.” You gasp at the word that’s been whispered so close to your mouth. His chest is almost rubbing against your hardened nipples and all your body seems to be able to do right now is just stay still and listen to his hoarse, rumbling voice.

“W-What is wrong with you? You were just flirting with Sunmi!” the rage that provokes you to accuse him like you two still had a connection, was automatic. But your stomach drops when you see the knowing smile slowly creeping up on his face and you realise your mistake.

You just outed yourself.

“So you werelistening to us.” Your eyes flicker everywhere but at him, knowing that you’ve clearly exposed yourself but not being help it when the lie escapes your mouth again, trying to avoid having your nose bump with his own when he keeps inching closer. Surrounding and cornering you until you break.

“I-I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His laugh at your response is almost sounding innocent. Pure. But when he spins you around so fast, pushing you roughly on Jin’s desk to flip your skirt up you realise – there is no out from this. And you were too weak of a woman to fight your way out. You were already consumed by the carnal lust he awoke in you and the arousal that Yoongi could probably clearly see through your white lace panties was proof of that.

You’re whimpering as he pushes your cheek against the desk and perches your ass up a little more so it stuck out obscenely for him.

“Look at that. You’re soaking wet.” He tsks as his hands run all over your ass, the coarse hands that worked in his studio on his music board or a piano, caressed the supple flesh of your ass while you could only whimper – your hands by your sides. Not stopping him. Not pushing him. Just feeling him grope your ass with his large, veiny hands.

“Y-Yoongi,” you whimper and you know you’re not sounding convincing, “s-stop. I have a boyfriend now- ah!” His hand strikes a cheek of your ass and your pathetic pleading had stopped as soon as his palm had met your flesh; replaced with what could only be described as high pitched moan. Yoongi knew you inside out. He knew that you were filthy and you liked it rough. You loved it when he spanked you when you two had been seeing each other and he was using it to his advantage. Fucking asshole.

“Yeah? Then why is your pussy dripping?” to emphasise his point, he’s roughly using his index and middle finger together to push the sodden material of your white panties inside your clenching pussy, making you bite down on your lip before another needy whimper is fighting its way out from your mouth. Fuck you needed to stop this. Seokjin could be here any minute.

What the fuck was wrong with you? The first thought in your mind was that you could get caught; not that what you were doing was so, so wrong. You loved Jin. Your sweet, sweet Jin who made love to you. Who showed you that pure and gentle sex was so much more than what you had thought it would be: boring. But with him it wasn’t. And yet you couldn’t stop the moan that left your mouth when Yoongi’s fingers pushed in deep, pushing your panties with them inside you.

“I-I want Jin now. I’m not who you used fuck a-anymore.” Yoongi only snickers before striking your other cheek, the flesh of your ass beautifully rosy.

“Oh you’re not? You’re a good girl now are you?” And all you can do is dumbly nod like that makes a difference. You knew you were losing the battle – and intentionally. There was something fucked up about the relationship you both had that was going to remain there forever. Because whenever Yoongi was around, you lost all inhibitions, your moral compass vanishing while only your insatiable sex drive remained. And that is precisely why you avoided him at all costs.

He was scissoring your pussy with his fingers while your white panties – soaked beyond belief – continuously pushed inside along with them creating that extra, delicious pang of friction. And all you could do was weakly murmur ‘stop’ but moan right after each one making him chuckle like the sadistic bastard he was.

“Y-Yoongi- mm – J-Jin will be- ah! – back any moment.” But it made no difference to him and he made sure to tell you that.

“There’s the little slut I know,” you gasp against sleek desk that your scorching cheek was pressed against – your pussy dripping even more as he used the shameful term to address you. “Only worried about being caught. You’re not a good girl after all, huh?”

His chuckle is the only thing louder than your panting. You push your hands behind you, blindly trying to retaliate but instead Yoongi only takes things further by pushing gripping both your wrists in his own and tugging you backwards – almost bowing your back like a crossbow before he’s hissing in your ear all the while he’s fingering your pussy.

“Listen here, y/n. You’re going to get down on your knees, open my belt and put that heavenly mouth on my cock – and suck it.” The grip that he’s holding your hands with is bound to leave a bruise, already making them ache while you listen to him with a hazy gaze and mouth falling open. Too drunk with lust that you’d lost even your voice. But he still had more to say. “You’re going to let me fuck this tight mouth in your precious boyfriend’s office until I cum. Until my cum is dribbling down your face. You know why?”

You let out a dry sob when his fingers slip out of your sodden core and slide down to your clit, “Because I know you want it. Your pussy wants it. Because you’re a cock slut who can’t help herself and stay satisfied with one man.” And it’s worse because at the mention of Jin, you’re really starting to cry now. And not only because it was wrong for you to betray him like this – but because Yoongi was right. You needed to be ravaged. You wanted to be used like a sex doll and fuck hard. You wanted to be humiliated and everything that you can’t imagine Jin would ever do. He would probably run the other way if he found out how much of a horny slut you were. Ready to impale yourself on Yoongi’s cock. In Jin’s office.

“Now get on your knees before your Jin comes back.” He roughly pulls back, finally letting your back slump against the desk to rest for a few moments from the painful angle he had it bent at. But Yoongi is impatient and doesn’t want to wait any longer because he’s grabbing you by the hair – hard enough to sting just a little more than usual – and pushing you to your knees.

“Hurry your slutty ass up, y/n. You want me to go find Sunmi and have her make me cum?” Pathetically and with no shame, you’re shaking your head ‘no’ reaching for his belt as you fish out his hard, vascular and incredibly girthy cock. It was long like his fingers and the veins made the ridges in the length. Hi balls sit heavy behind the base as the red, angry tip leaks precum that has your mouth drooling. And just when you’re about to take him in your mouth – he pushes your head back none too gently.

“Pull down your top. I want to see your tits.” And like a paid street whore, you oblige, pulling down the spaghetti straps of your tank top, letting your breasts away freely. You’re not even fully done with pulling the tank right beneath your breasts – it was a little snug on your bust – that he’s grabbing a fistful of your hair and shoving his cock deep inside your mouth until it hits the back of your throat. You weren’t prepared and the unexpected intrusion has you gagging around it while Yoongi lets out a deep sigh – as if he’s finally been relieved of a great burden. And then he’s pulling back, only to slam back inside. Again and again and again. Relentless and merciless. Just how you liked. Fuck.

“You love this don’t you? Huh? Letting me fuck your mouth. You miss the taste of my cock baby? Or you’re too good after having the rich boy’s dick?” He’s asking you all these questions in his accusing tone as if you can respond. Because at the moment, you are only holding on to his thighs as he uses your mouth, pushing in deep every single time that you’re nestled against his pubic hair whenever he slams back in. You can tell that he’s getting close because he’s lost all control over his breathing; he’s panting and a bit too loudly and the fear that you could get caught has you bringing up your hands to his balls – massaging them to help him over his peak.

And it’s also sending a trickle of arousal leaking past your pussy that you’re letting a man who isn’t your boyfriend, your ex fuck buddy, use your mouth to get off. Fuck you were messed up.

Saliva is dripping past your mouth and Yoongi’s strong hold on your hair has softened just enough for you to stop holding his thighs and bring your hands to wrap around his length while your mouth sucks the mushroom head. “Fuck, just like that. Yeah baby. You like sucking my cock don’t you? You miss it?” and like a good girl, you’re nodding as you suck him off. Twisting your hands around his length while your lips work his head like a pornstar.

“Fuck yeah. Daddy’s gunna cum. Your slutty mouth is so good. Been practicing on your vanilla boyfriend have you? Fuckkk.” His head is thrown back and you’re glad that you don’t have to verbally or physically answer that. Because you haven’t been. Jin was a big eater. And by that you mean: pussy. He loved going down on you and he never expressed too much interest in you reciprocating. And you weren’t sure how to tell him that you liked sucking cock. Every single time you thought of telling him, you felt dirty and improper so you always ended up stalling.

But that was exactly it. You were dirty and improper. At least in bed. You liked sucking cock and you absolutely loved that Yoongi never hesitated but even pushed you to suck his. But you knew that you were just trying to justify the fact that you’re cheating on your boyfriend. But thankfully, Yoongi is close because your mouth is filling up with the constant dribble of the pre-cum, more now than before and before you know it, he’s growling out his release and filling your mouth until the white substance flows over.

“Fuck! That’s so good. You’re a good cock sucker.” He’s pulling you off him by pushing against your head again when you continue to softly bob your head up and down his still hardened length and you come off with an obscene ‘pop’

And you both just stare at each other. Yoongi with a smirk on his ace while he catches his breath, looking down at you. And you – cum covering your chin and dripping down to your tits while you also heave in breaths like you’re never going to breathe again. Your gaze flickers over to the clock and you know that lunch break ends in exactly 20 minutes. The internal sigh is of relief. Relief that you both will have enough time to get yourselves together before Jin was here. Gosh. You were a slut. And you were loving and hating it at the same time. But of course, Yoongi had other plans.

“Rub my cum on your tits.” Your eyes widen at his request when you see his hand back on his length and instead of putting it away – he’s stroking himself back in to a painfully hard erection. “Go on, y/n. I know you love smelling like me.” You wanted to correct him and say ‘loved’ because you two were no longer together. You were not his anymore. But guess what you do? You look him straight in the eyes with your glazed ones, bite your bottom lip and lazily gather his cum from the top of your chest before rubbing the semen all over your tits. Massaging them just the way he liked it.

“That’s right,” he’s whispering now, sounding like he’s in a trance while you throw your head back, eyes closed, “rub it all over your nipples. So when he sucks your tits tonight, he’s tasting your recent fuck. And that’s not him.” Your eyes are shooting open and so is your mouth. Half in surprise of his words and half in arousal as you pinch your nipples and moan your pleasure. Yoongi bends down, picking you up to set you down on the desk while you keep rubbing your tits, pulling your nipples and pushing them together tantalisingly to tease him further. And he simply shuts down your smirk by taking your mouth. Lips encasing your own in a messy, sloppy kiss. So passionate that it feels like you’ve been apart without choice but in fact; it was by choice. At least his anyway.

His hands have now replaced your own, thumbs rubbing your nipples in small circles while your legs go around his waist, pulling him in while you both make out like you’re not on the clock, running on thin ice when it comes to time. And just then, the phone is ringing on the desk, making you pull back from Yoongi so fast you could give professional marathon runners a run for their money. Fearing it might be Jin, you lean backwards – Yoongi still kissing and sucking bruises in your neck – and press the speaker button.

“Ma’am?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Mr Kim send his apologies for being late but he is on his way back now. Should be back within 20 minutes.” You’re holding your breath as Yoongi bends down to take a nipple in his mouth, hoping to lord that your reply won’t be giving you away to Jin’s PA.

“Alright, thank you.” As soon as the line is dropped, you’re pushing Yoongi back, glancing at the clock that says that everyone’s lunch break is probably over in 5 minutes.

“Y-You need to go. Jin will be here soon.” To that, he looks at you as if you’re a naïve child, staring at you for a few moments before bursting out in laughter. And then he’s grabbing your hair again, tilting your head back before his face is displaying nothing but rage as he hisses his reply out.

“You think I’m going anywhere without fucking this pussy? Your cunt is calling for me my dear, sweet, y/n. Stop pretending that you aren’t a slut.” His words are making you horny but angry at the same time. He was the slut who went around offering your best friend to sleep with him before this.

“Takes one to know one.” His smirk diminishes slightly and you bet that it’s because he didn’t expect you to talk back. But you’re regretting the words slipping past your mouth, very very quickly. Because Yoongi is once again, not one to allow back talk.

“You’re going to regret saying that, y/n.” He’s shaking his head while he’s pushing up your skirt, wiping the defiant look right off your face when you see that five minutes have already passed and that Seokjin will be here soon.

“Wh- Wait. Yoongi s-stop.” But yet you make no move to stop him when he yanks your panties aside, pushing your knees up to your chest, making you lie back down on the table.

“Right.” He scoffs. “Like you actually want me to? Do you?” He’s rubbing the head of his cock on your inflamed pussy lips, looking you direct in the eyes while he’s hovering over you. Your pussy is dripping, your heart is beating fast and you swear on everything that is holy that you’ve never been this turned on in your life. Knowing that you’re about to be fucked in your boyfriend’s office, on his desk, by a man that wasn’t him. That was Yoongi. One who at some point you had thought you loved. But lust has won you over and in this moment, you’re not thinking rationally. You’re just a woman who wants to be fucked.

So you’re shaking your head, spreading your legs further, being well aware that you make not get out of this without being caught. “No.”

Yoongi pretends to not here your whisper and raises his eyebrows in question, “what was that?”

“No,” you whimper desperately, “I want you to fuck me. Fuck my pussy like you always did d-daddy. Tear me apart.” You haven’t even finished your sentence that Yoongi has pushed in to the hilt; the girth of his cock stretching you open with a slight burn that makes you mewl. And then he’s fucking you like you want to be fucked. Rough. Raw. Animalistic. The only noises in the room are your whiny moans, skin slapping on skin as his balls hit your ass again and again as he bottoms out in his ruthless pace.

Your head is thrown back, your arms are resting beside it on either side and your mouth is open while you’re being dragged forwards and backwards with the force of Yoongi’s pistoning inside your pussy. “I knew you would come back to me. I knew you would always remain a slut for cock that can tear your pussy apart. And only I can do that can’t I slut?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you’re moaning out loud as each ‘yeah’ is separated by a thrust of his cock that nudges in deep inside your pussy, resting near your cervix. It’s a burn and you know that not all women enjoy it. But you did. You liked the pain and the pleasure. And you wanted nothing more than to just lay here and let Yoongi fuck you until you died. Because it felt so, so good. So good that you’d lost track of time. Only listening to Yoongi’s heavy breathing as he pounds away at your pussy.

“I’m going to cum inside this cunt and you’re going to walk around with it inside you. I want him to touch your pussy and find it wet and filled with cum from a man that’s not him.” He’s growling and watching your contorted face, tears streaming down it. Yoongi unbends your legs while he continues to fuck you – although slightly slower as he adjusts your legs. And now that they point upwards as he holds them open at your knees, you can feel every single ridge of his cock as it slides inside your swollen pussy again. By opening your legs wider and further, you can feel him hit thatspot that has you seeing stars. The delicious curve of his cock is rubbing on your g-spot and all you can do is shake your head side to side as you hold your fist to your mouth to stop yourself from screaming blooding murder.

And that’s a mistake as well. You’re making a lot of those today. And the worse part – Yoongi takes advantage of it, just like he does of everything when it comes to you.

“Keep looking,” He’s still pounding his cock in you as you shake your head, closing your eyes in defiance while sobbing quietly – trying to contain your pleasure.

“Open your fucking eyes y/n. And look at that picture.” And that’s the first time a tear leaves your eye that’s not because of how good your pussy feels with Yoongi fucking you like there is no tomorrow. It’s because of the frame on Jin’s desk – that’s rattling from the force of Yoongi’s thrusts – with a picture of you and him inside it.

“How does it feel to have a cock inside you that’s not his? Huh?” You say nothing but continue to sob with the pleasure, feeling that familiar knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter instead of turning you off. Because you’re fucked up and looking at the frame of your boyfriend and you on your first vacation does make you mad at yourself for doing this – but it makes you even more aroused. You’re horny beyond belief.

“Tell me slut. Tell me you love my cock inside your cunt. That only I can make your pussy wet like this.” And that’s the last straw because you’re not holding back anymore. Letting the words come out as you watch his cock slide inside your pussy again and again and again. Everything on the desk rattling as your tits sway.

“I love your cock. I l-love it in my c-cunt,” you’re sobbing as he speeds up at you locking eyes with him while he brings a hand to your throat, holding it tight enough to constrict your air supply but not enough that you can’t talk, “y-you make me so wet y-yoongi. I-I’m your slut. I always w-want y-your cock d-daddy.”

And just when you think you’re about to explode, you can hear voices outside in the corridor that sound suspiciously close to Jin and his co-worker that he’d gone to lunch with. And like the horny slut you are, the idea that your boyfriend is probably right outside and your ex is fucking you in a chokehold is enough for your pussy to let go. You’re coming so hard and in a flash, Yoongi is pulling you off the desk, turning you around to bend you over it just like he had earlier – all the while your pussy is pulsing and dripping from your orgasm that doesn’t seem to be ending – and pushes back inside you from behind. Setting a rapid pace once again while his hand covers your mouth just in time for your screaming as you keep convulsing and coming around his cock that is pounding away.

You’re thankful that Yoongi has realised that you two don’t have time to take it slow anymore because he’s working his cock inside you fast like he wants to cum as quick as possible. The desk is still rattling but there is no helping it when Yoongi is going as hard as he is.

Your cries are muffled by his hand and the sound of his balls slapping on your pussy are loud and obscene. You’re praying to god – you’re not even sure if he’ll listen to you for being such a whore – that Jin isn’t near the door or he’ll be able to sense that something strange is going on with the creaking of his desk and the slapping of the skin on skin.

“Hurry Yoongi,” you mumble tiredly, moaning when he’s building you towards another orgasm rapidly again. His hold on your mouth had slackened and you can see the sweat dripping down the side of his handsome face, the sharp V of his hips evident from where his dress pants hang open while he works his cock inside you.

And then your worst fears come to life when the door handle rattles.

“Huh? I didn’t lock it.” Jin’s voice is muffled but you can hear it clearly when he tries to open the handle again.

Yoongi looks nowhere near panicked while your face must look like you’ve seen a ghost when you plead with him through eyes to just finish already. Instead, smirks and continues to pound your cunt – but even harder that your eyes are rolling back and a moan is leaving your mouth in surprise.

“Y/n? Are you inside baby?”

“J-Just a minute, hon. I’m in the bathroom.” You’re hoping he’s buying your lie. Yoongi has pushed your leg on the desk, opening you up again as he slows down for a moment before speeding up again, jamming his cock inside your quivering and sensitive pussy over and over while you hold on for dear life – and hope that you don’t lose your boyfriend today.

“Ah okay. That’s alright babe. I’ll get a key from Yebin.” Your understanding boyfriend is walking away as you can tell from his steps probably to retrieve a key from his PA to come in. And finally, Yoongi’s pace has frantically increased while you push back to meet his cock halfway, moaning like a porn star because of the short window you two have gotten with Jin going to the reception desk.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” shamelessly moaning while you watch his hips push in to yours, “cum in my pussy daddy. Please give your slut your yummy cum.” You’re almost whining and finally, Yoongi is cursing under his breath and spilling inside your pussy while you simultaneously cum on his cock. Both of your fluids are dripping out of your pussy, making a mess on Jin’s desk as white has covered your swollen pussy.

Hastily, you pull your top back up while Yoongi zips himself quickly, running a hand through his hair all the while he inspects you. You don’t look at him. You don’t even acknowledge that he’s there. Because the shame has started to set in and instead, you just run to the bathroom that’s attached to Jin’s office – leaving Yoongi to his own devices. He could get out of this mess that he created himself.

When you do lock yourself inside the bathroom – the lights turn on automatically because of the motion sensors. And what you see is your swollen lips, lipstick smeared on your face, cum dried on your chest while your hardened nipples are poking through the tank top – with wet rings around them from Yoongi’s saliva and the cum. Your hair is a mess and most of all, you look like you’ve been gangbanged. You’ve just cheated on your boyfriend with your ex, in his office, on his desk, beside the picture of you and him on vacation. And you’d loved every second of it.

Your pussy is buzzing and hot when you bring a hand down to cup yourself through your soiled panties. And you’re horny all over again.

And what do you do? Spend the next ten minutes, rubbing your clit until you cum.

Too bad you’d forgotten that there were cameras in Jin’s Office.

a/n: if you still have bad feelings about this fic, say it to me respectfully and i will listen. otherwise, im being mean right back!!1!! jk im sensitive plz be nice.

#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts suga #yoongi fanfic #tw: cheating

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mars-barssss · 5 years

Note

85. "Don't lie to me" with the prompts you just re-blogged, if possible? Any ship ya want 👌

//Sure!

Lies of Omission

TW: Deceit Mention, Remus Mention, A Few Swear Words, Some Roughhousing

Pairing: Prinxiety (referenced Anxiet)

Type: ANGST

___

Once again, Virgil was lurking in the dark around the mindscape. It was usually a normal thing, but tonight, he was following a different set of rules. He just managed his way into his room, which was just as dark as usual. As he quickened his pace, he breezed past the front of his room, the spiderwebs bending unnaturally away from him. He could feel multiple pairs of spider eyes watching him as he finally reached his bed, patterned with a surprisingly intricate spider web design. Confident that he couldn’t be heard in his room, he released a relieved breath.

A sudden thud sounded in the room, as he tore into his drawers. Searching frantically, he tossed many pairs of black pants and old hoodies aside as he dug. Under the many overwhelming layers upon layers, he saw something. He reached for it, which was a card that read, “U R FAMILY”. It was from Patton, and he didn’t want to leave it behind. He didn’t really want to leave any of them behind, but he didn’t want them in danger. Snagging the small card, he slipped it onto his bed, before replacing his purple hoodie with his old plaid one. He zipped up the hoodie, covering his head with the hood before slipping the card in his pocket.

He slipped the purple hoodie into the drawer, and rushed off to the closet. He reached up, stretching, just managing to grab his trusty headphones and phone, which he held gently in his hands. A quick look into it and he saw a playlist of audio books ready at his fingertips from Logan last year. He smiled briefly, before pocketing the phone and putting the headphones around his neck.

With a small breath, Virgil finally ran to the final corner of his room, which had a bit of ruined carpet. Lifting the carpet, he saw the edge of a familiar trap door. Upon raising it, he saw something that made his breath hitch. It was his Christmas sweater, which bore a lot of memories from the previous year. As he reached down to touch it, he held it close to himself, frowning slightly. He could feel it radiating care and hope, something that contrasted Virgil’s own ideals. He could feel his own heart raise in tempo. Roman had made it for him last Christmas, and something about it made him smile still. While he didn’t wear it normally, he still wore it at night.

He was about to turn, holding the well-loved sweater tightly to him, when he saw a glimpse of something else beneath. A small ring, silver, but slightly cracked on the sides. He remembered trying to build something for the creative side, but he wasn’t exactly meant to form something. Anxiety was no good at forming items. And when he made it with intricate designs, some of the designs became harsh cracks. There was a pair of hearts on the outside of it, one purple and another red, and on the same part on the inside, there were a few small words, “Will you be mine?”

He hesitated, but Virgil reached for the cracked ring, holding it close to his heart. Slipping it onto his finger, albeit a bit loose of a fit, he quickly folded up the sweater and slid it into a bag he had previously formed against his wall. Taking the bag, he covered the trapdoor with the carpet and approached his door.

This is what he had to do.

He snuck quickly down the light-side’s hallway. His footsteps creaked slightly on the wooden floor, but no one seemed to have awaken. He rushed into the living room, his grip on his bag tightened. As he navigated through the couches, a small cough froze his body in place.

“Virgil?”

Shit.

Virgil spun around to see a tired-looking Roman, standing in the arch of the hallway. He was looking deeply into the other side, although he was leaning heavily on the wall. He was wearing a surprisingly simple outfit, a long-sleeved pajama shirt with a crown, and matching red sweatpants.

“You’re already enough of a chemically imbalanced romance for me to be awake at this hour! What in the heavenly world, are you doing?” He rose a bit from where he was leaning, in a poor attempt to have his usual daily flourish. His fond smile still danced upon his regal face.

“The bigger question is why you are up right now?” Virgil attempted to deflect the question, hiding the bag behind a couch as he nervously shuffled. His eyes stayed on the prince, however.

“Creative block, Thomas can’t think of anything.” He gestured vaguely around, as if he was trying to conjure something. It obviously didn’t do anything. “Besides, it’s night time. Most of my reign is being used up. It is so frustrating that I can’t do anything during Remus’s hours!” He stomped in mock anger, as he kept his eyes trained on Virgil. He slowly began to walk around the couch.

“Still, you should be trying to relax. Who knows, Ro, you might get some really needed beauty sleep!” Virgil smirked slightly, his smirk barely not reaching his eyes.

“Excuse me! I happen to be in fact the most fairest of all, you damned emo nightmare-!” He bowed slightly, as if that would prove a point. It didn’t prove anything. Although, all Virgil could notice was just how close he was getting to the anxious side, and closer to noticing his change in outfit.

As if the thought alone cursed him, Roman looked at his with a strange questioning in his eyes. “Still didn’t question my answer, stormcloud. Actually, another question, why in the world are you wearing that-?” He made a large motion, pointing at the dark plaid that Virgil had been hiding in.

“Didn’t want to waste my normal hoodie for night stuff-!” Virgil blurted out.

“You don’t even need to sleep! Try again.”

“Uhh- felt like wearing something familiar!”

“... You’ve worn your purple hoodie for a year now.”

“... Felt like it?”

“Everyone here knows just how much you hate it, edgelord.”

Virgil squirmed under Roman’s words, shrinking further into his old hoodie. As the Prince walked closer, his heart rate went up. He hated trying to lie for this, lying in general sucked. And having Roman basically tower over him, made him want to just force himself to blurt out the truth. And eventually, he succumbed to it, however, when he did-

“Agh okay, I had to because-!” Suddenly, his hands covered his mouth, slamming into them. One look from Roman was all he needed. Roman began to back up in shock, his fond expression long gone and forgotten. His expression melted from a deep sort of shock, to frustration. “D-Deceit?...Y-You wanted to go back? Back to them?!”

“Roman-! Wait I can- Deceit wanted me to-” Virgil tried to move forward, lifting his hands off of his mouth, before his steps halted as his legs grew heavy. His heart pounded at his chest, raising even higher as Roman opened his mouth, his form towering over Virgil.

“I t-trusted you! I TRUSTED YOU!” Roman’s lip quivered as he looked to the ground, before looking back up, his eyes shined with tears. “I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO BE GOOD! H-How… Why?!”

“R-Roman, it’s not, no, wait-!” His pleas fell on deaf ears as the creative side stormed towards him, his arms shaking a little. “It wasn’t anything bad, I just needed to talk with Deceit about-” Suddenly, his hands covered his mouth again. This caused Roman to visibly grow more upset, his teething sinking deeper into his own lips.

“You’re still lying?! I thought you actually cared, but you really just wanted to go back, didn’t you?” Roman’s eyes glistened with tears and anger. A few tears flew down his cheeks as his shouts thundered through the anxious side. “I thought you cared about us! I thought you were happy-!”

Virgil backed up, pointedly looking away, his eyes wide and afraid. Suddenly, he was forced forward, a hardened grip pulling him slightly upwards, forcing his eyes to find Roman’s. The moment he did, tears slid down his own face, ruining his make-up. As Roman lifted him slightly, it caused Virgil’s headphones, phone, and card to fall out, flying onto the floor.

“I thought you cared about me-!” Roman practically cried it into his face, as tears were now falling in waterfalls down his cheeks. His hand that held Virgil was shaking, trembling even.

“N-No-! Roman, I care about you- I care about you so much, I-” His hand reached up, shaking as it reached for Roman’s face, almost touching it-

“Don’t lie to me.” Roman’s voice grew deeper, as he backed away harshly from the contact, shaking Virgil. In the motion, Virgil saw in dismay that his bag had also thumped onto the floor, and the sweater had slipped out, joining the other sentimental items. The shake had also just managed the slightly-loose ring to fall off of his finger, hitting Roman’s foot. “J-Just tell me you want to leave us! O-Or me! That you want them, because hell-”

“R-Roman, no-”

Suddenly, Roman looked at the items and Virgil’s expression, and his anger hesitated, crumbling. Deep down, Roman didn’t ever want to hurt Virgil. He knew that. Shakily, he let go of his hoodie in favor of wiping his tears. His anger stood nothing in front of the love he held for that side. “I-I…”

Virgil, as he let his tears fall down, looked at Roman’s broken eyes, and couldn’t take it anymore. His lip trembled, and his insides threatened to sob away his pains. Shaky hands wiped desperately at his eyes. Before Roman could understand what happened, he dashed away, leaving behind all of the beloved items.

“Virgil-!”

But by the time he yelled, Virgil had already ran to the edge of the room and tumbled downward as he sank out, holding his hoodie close to himself.

Roman held himself, as if it’d hold himself together. He fell to his knees, looking at all that Virgil had brought along with him. He looked at his hands, the ones he knew he used that held Virgil a few moments ago. That held Virgil when he was breaking down weeks ago. That held Virgil when he was cuddling him. That held Virgil when he confessed to him. That held Virgil when he was just accepted, when he began to sob.

As he sat there, his eyes trailed down to where his legs used to be standing, spotting a small silver ring. It was a beautiful ring, actually.

The moment he saw the hearts and words that were engraved into it, Roman broke into sobs. Hiccups ran through his body, has he curled in on himself. All of the laughter and bravado the side had before was gone, leaving a shell behind. Sobs wracked his body as he held the ring, tightly. His body shuddered as his heart bled out through him.

Several hours later, Patton and Logan had found him asleep in that same position in the commons. And for once, they didn’t know what to do either.

#sandersides #sanders sides #virgil #roman #prinxiety #requests

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protectjugheadjonesiii · 7 years

Text

The Reader and the Writer (Part 2)

Part one here

Anon requests: can you please do a part two of "The reader and the writer"? i'm shook, lost and now stressed over who she really is

The Reader and the Writer is amazingggg! Are u gonna do a part 2?? I wanna read more!!

could you do a part 2 of the reader and the writer, i'm obsessed!!!

Is there going to be a part 2 for The Reader and the Writer? Can there be a part 2? I loved it by the way :)

PART TWO OF THE READER AND THE WRITER PLEASE OMFG

Omigod, I love your Reader and Writer imagine soooooo much, are you going to write a part two??

OK PLEASE WRITE A PART TWO TO THE READER AND THE WRITER IS WAS SO GOOD!

Wtf?!? The reader and the writer is honestly amazing! I love it 😍 2pt maybe? I wanna know what happens with the reader and Jason

I love love love the reader and the writer, if you aren't too busy could you please update it with a second part soon? I can't bear to be left for days without knowing what Jughead found 😂 thanks x

Will there be a part 2 of "the reader and the writer"? Its really good! I hope you will write more of it!

I love this new jughead imagine ! Are you writing a part 2 ?

OH MY GOD PART 2 ASAP

I really love your writing! I'm very excited about part 2 for the Reader and the writer

part 2 of "The Reader and the Writer" ?? it's greattt 😭

please do a part 2 of the reader and the writer!@@@ I need more!

Can you please do part two or the reader and writer?!?! It is so good!!

The reader and the writer was amazing and i got too attached. Part 2 please if you don't mind.

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: A confrontation ensues between the reader and the writer

Warnings: none

Word count: 887

A/N: I’m glad you guys liked the first part so much! Enjoy part 2!

(Y/N) didn’t return to Pop’s. Every night, Jughead sat in his normal booth typing on his computer, but his eyes constantly flicked up towards the entrance. His friends noticed his shift in attitude.

“Jug,” Archie sat across from him, “you gotta snap out of this.”

“Out of what?” Jughead asked monotonously, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine, Archie.”

“I know you like to sit here and brood all mysteriously,” Veronica interjected, “but this is sad. Just call (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” he scoffed. “This isn’t about (Y/N).” When the entire table sent him disbelieving looks, he sighed and looked out the window. “I already called her.”

“How many times?” Kevin asked with a smirk. Jughead sighed again, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

“Every night.” Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin all shared a knowing glance. “I know what you guys are thinking and no, it’s not like that. I’m not some pathetically smitten person, okay?”

“Okay, Jughead,” Betty said, but rolled her eyes. “If you insist.”

To say (Y/N) felt guilty would be an understatement. From the moment she stomped out of that diner, regret gnawed at her inside out. Without the consistency of her nightly stops in Pop’s, she didn’t know what to do with herself. She spent every night after school in her room sulking. Every night, her phone rang, lighting up with Jughead’s name. She was tempted to answer it every night, her finger hovering over the answer button, but then she turned away and ignored his call. (Y/N) missed Pop’s: she missed the delicious foods, the quiet yet comforting atmosphere, and the person who sat across from her in their usual booth.

One day, Jughead sat with an uneaten burger in front of him, laptop closed. Today had been an especially slow day, both in Jughead’s mind and Pop’s. Suddenly, a jingle of the bell signaled that someone new entered the diner. Jughead sat up a bit to see who it was. When he identified the new customer, he perked up immediately. Grabbing a book, he shot up and walked over to the table where she had just sat down.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” he said, slamming down the book in front of her, “is an author from the 18th century. She wrote four novels, all of them published under an alias at first. It was not until two hundred years later that the true author was discovered. She has been dead for over two hundred years, and she is most certainly not you.” (Y/N) looked up at him with wide eyes.

“What, I can’t have the same name as someone else?” she fired back, but there was a waver in her voice. Jughead glared as he sat down across from her.

“You see, I would think that, too,” Jughead responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “but I searched for you online, and I couldn’t find anything on you. Not one thing.”

“I like to keep my life private. I don’t publish stuff about me online.”

“Yeah, but there’s something about everyone on the world wide web if you look hard enough,” Jughead explained, his voice accusingly sharp. “Now I have two theories: one, you’re a very experienced hacker, and you’ve gone and wiped all information regarding you off the internet; or two, you’re hiding something, and you’re using a dead unpopular author’s name to keep your real identity a secret. Personally, I’m choosing the latter, considering how well-read you are.” (Y/N) stared at Jughead with sad, wide eyes. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I wasn’t,” she whispered. Jughead clenched his jaw and shook his head.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, standing up. He began to walk away when (Y/N) shot up from her seat.

“I was born in Riverdale,” she called out to him. Jughead stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around.

“What?”

“I was born in Riverdale,” she repeated slower. Jughead neared the table and sat down across from (Y/N).

“So what?”

“So I-,” she started, “I can’t- I can’t just tell you everything.” Jughead rolled his eyes and began to push his chair out when (Y/N) placed her hand on his, her eyes silently begging him to stay. “If you care, you’ll trust me.”

“What makes you think I care?” Jughead demanded, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice how he didn’t move his hands out from under hers.

“Because you called?” she offered, causing Jughead to sit up a little straighter. “You called me every night, Jug.”

“I was worried,” he muttered, looking away. (Y/N) smiled, patted his hand, and stood up.

“Keep writing, Jughead. See you around.” Spinning on her heel, (Y/N) grabbed her copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray and exited the diner. Jughead’s eyes followed her figure out until the door closed behind her. Then he pulled out his laptop and started to furiously type.

“And so, a little light shined on the dark mystery of Riverdale’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) like the calm before the storm. The writer becomes the reader, the reader becomes the read. I found myself hooked on her just from a little information, like a drug addict craving his fix. New girls can never hide in a small town like Riverdale, but God, I knew (Y/N), in all her enigmatic splendor, would lurk in the shadows of this town for as long as she possibly could.”

Part 3 here Part 4 here

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esfor-dazrumi-18 · 5 years

Text

findings

y’know it says a lot when it tries so hard to look like fucking twitter and the like where it’s all tiny and stuff

moment you join too you’re forced to pick tags so they can cater to ya i just picked the obvious shit

tbh i don’t like being tracked but i got shit to say so i’ll get on with it.

i don’t follow the rules other people set out, i make my own, so don’t whine this is long or shit, y’all learn to read in school for a reason, bookmark it or something, heck, read and then stop, ain’t my fault it’s your own disinterest

was following this guy named bogor. been helping out some girl with her problems, various things on the net she can’t confront due to various issues, associations, internets a nasty place yo so me and a few friends go around doing the work and the eyes for em

we’re not on the internet much, we’re just people with a close attachment to each other, so dont expect to see all your picture pic stuff, that ain’t our thing here, i just looked up blogging sites n tumblr was in the list so i’ll treat it as that

despite we aren’t on the internet much, we got a basic grasp how these things go.

so then

my situation, as esfor, is, wow, hecked up. Didn’t realise someone else here chose the same name oh well that’s what i did for google. but never mind. Me and a friend, puni, who’s looking up places like gbatemp are searchin the web all fine n dandy and then I get asked by our girl ‘there’s this suspicious forum can u look into it’

so puni goes into this forum and fucks up first impressions, so then i go in. there’s a guy named bogor who runs the place and holy fuck he’s nuts. like not even slightly, this dude’s inferior complex is bigger than you’ll ever know

so the reason we were asked to inspect some suspicious looking forum was because this concerns her finances. It runs on the assumption that this program this girl’s mum has signed up to is a scam, been running for 20 years with slow increments to givin cash. Loads of cash, sounds like blatant scam material, but the site’s materials are a decade old, and this guy seems hell bent on controlling that material as well.

Finances ain’t a joke, neither are scams. So as a friend i decide to be cover. puni fucked up the first impressions, indicating she wasn’t gonna lurk so I had to take measures. some other guy comes in who we don’t know, and after many logic tossups with admittedly little material on my end, this guy takes drastic measures threatening his family, and i don’t agree with the threatening the family bit, but i agree with the post in an admittedly vague way, and then he bans both our asses.

So then I can’t speak, puni and peli (another dude, more rude than me or puni if i’m being honest) make an account called muzifa to lurk. this time, we say nothing until yesterday

this suspicious forum doesn’t attract much activity, there’s only a few hundred members on the forum, suspiciously, though, they don’t get active on the site much. ever since both of us got suspended, your email gets verified, which is fine, our emails are gibberish anyway irrelevant to the names we choose (except the one on this site), but yea, despite this, there’s like 1 or 2 members that even speak at that. the forum’s running in mybb.

which is obvious, i lurk another forum infrequently which uses the exact same format so i’m not particularly unknown

when i say i’m not in the internet that’s more a lie. i have twitter, i have nowhere else though. i lurk more quiet places. no facebook, no insta, no shit. just twitter to converse about problems with the other dudes (or girls in the cases of our friend and puni), so i know this shit, i just don’t take myself to care about much of the spammy promote-yourself shit.

basically, the gist of the forum is this program is run by a guy named mike, who’s supposedly an immigrant as we’ve half-learned, and yo, he posts updates every 2 weeks basically drunk. this bogor bitch posts said updates in text on the forum, and reacts to em callin mike names and shit, and he expects everyone to go along with it. puni on muzifa’s account got too heated, because bogor went all authoritarian on him too, but here’s the logic tho

mike got contacted in one of these updates and he posted the email addresses of all involved. some of these emails mention a jeff.

so there’s a whole team behind this scam... huh interesting a whole team

yet bogor goes ‘there’s no team, just mike’ which dang dun lines up with the suspicions from our source. sure, teams can be involved in scams, no denying there. but use your words: a team is comprised of more than one person. so if bogor claims to have inside info, how come he’s sure there’s no ‘team’ if there’s a jeff? is jeff some personality? but then why’re the emails mentioning jeff and mike as if they’re separate?

and mike’s drunk updates refer to himself as mike at the end of every one. if he wanted to fake out by being jeff, he’d be jeff. so if he’s getting shit from jeff, who’s a different person, ergo, there’s a team. 2 people sure, but that’s still a team. there’s no i in team.

there isn’t a response to this, and as well, this lot also fuck up forum formatting because usually on these forums there’s tags to tell you when the reply ends if you’re responding to a quoted post, that’s how the text after isn’t stuck in the blob, but this lot like the 40 yr olds they are continue writing in this field. i’m not that old i can’t clearly see when the field ends

so bogus then bands muzifa with warnings that as peli tells us he’s blocked from seeing because the site totally blocks him from doing anything, apparently reading your own private messages is a warning. puni then goes back with her permanent account, with words from me in twitter as to what constitutes a response, and despite this, even she’s blocked, for supposedly 2 weeks. peli gets on with a different email, but the account is blocked instantly. so it’s not even a matter of 2 weeks, peli was blocked on sight.

so why care so much about an admin on a suspicious site, why not just leave it alone?

well first up, this scam hasn’t coughed itself up so the site has some merit

we received some emails pointing to two instances happening at once. the one with mike in charge, and one suspiciously pointing to bogor (including a recent update from mike himself claiming bogor is behind the crappy shit), along with a gmail account called ‘vsb-trust’ that supposedly said payment is happening, but only if $200 per member were sent. Since the girl involved in this is young, that’s $400.

we also found in this decade old site that’s suspiciously not on the frontloaded site he keeps pointing to (bogor loves to say google looking his name only results in scams, but all of them are a decade-old or dead in the case of the old forum), a letter containing something from the authority with some bogus claim he got evidence they don’t have

it’s like if he were being honest he’d have sent it right then and now why put this out to the publi-

oh right

he then asks for 50 grand from everyone to give this evidence to the authority.

Suspiciously in this forum, the one where he asked 200 from everyone also is never mentioned, despite it, y’know, supposedly being under mike’s name.

even though it ain’t according to these old emails

so basically both are scams and i’d like if we could change google’s history so we ain’t painting it as so one-sided

what the fuck 50 grand to send evidence about a criminal like fuckin wow i’m pretty sure your singaporean woman had better things to do than entertain a fuckin coward

because it’s obvious, set up a forum that really should’ve been a blog (he had no money for a blog), people join to echo chamber (just like actual scams, the replies usually aren’t real especially if they’re a pic), and then they lure u in, simple as that

because we try arguing with logic against the points, not that we dont agree, just the logic’s all fucked up, but nah, heck it

idk what the fuck to do with this tumblr now i think imma chill it

but i’ll still be spittin on tumblr

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