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zmediaoutlet · 5 years

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fic: slow as you can go

This story was written as a commission for @armellin and @jesusonthetortillas, to illustrate this lovely J2 pic Armellin created.

Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: E Tags: Non-AU ‘Canon’ Divergence, Established Relationship, Married Sex Summary: After a convention, Jared and Jensen come home for a brief break. They've earned it.

(read on AO3)

Plane travel will never be Jared's favorite thing—it's probably never going to crest the top thousand of his favorite things—but flying first class definitely makes it better. Actual legroom, for one, and constant booze for another. He stretches out, trying to ignore the constant annoying hum from the engines and the wind against the fuselage, and sips at what may well be his third gin and tonic—but who's counting. Lime and bitter, and it's good, but not as good as what's waiting for them at home.

Thinking of home makes him tip his head to the side against the soft seatback. He smiles. The view in first isn't half-bad, either.

Jensen's sleeping, again. He hasn't shaved all weekend and the stubble's coming in that golden-red color that drives Jared crazy, a little. He doesn't think Jensen's noticed the way Jared likes to run his lips against it, but then again Jensen's pretty observant, about all things Jared, so maybe he has. Doesn't matter either way; it's not like Jared's gonna stop. It's a midmorning flight and most of their fellow passengers are absorbed in whatever high-level business crap they have going on with their laptops, and there's not a flight attendant hovering asking if they need anything. Safe to take a moment and run his knuckles against all that prickly stubble, feel the reverse-grain burn of it against his skin. He really cannot wait to get home.

Jensen makes a soft upset sound, deep in his throat. Whoops. When he stirs into blinking awake Jared makes an apologetic grimace—well-practiced from work, although Sam usually actually feels apologetic and Jared doesn't, right now, not really. Jensen squints at him, clearly still half-gone, and Jared whispers, "Sorry," but he strokes Jensen's jaw again, soft, so it probably doesn't come off as all that genuine.

A beat of Jensen only blinking at him, fuzzy. He presses into Jared's knuckles for the barest second, like a cat, before he scrunches further down in his chair, closes his eyes again. "Keep it in your pants for a few more hours, Jay," he says, scratchy-low. Jared scoffs, and Jensen's mouth turns up at the corners but he's really settled in, going back to sleep for whatever time he has left. Lazy.

Jared sighs, puts his earbuds in. According to the flight map on the seat they've got about eight hundred miles left to get back home. That'll get him through Vs. and most of Vitalogy before he's got to face the real world again, and they'll be a good distraction, will stop him from bothering Jensen before he's allowed. Sometimes he really hates Jensen's no PDA rule, but hell. Doesn't mean he can't make all kinds of plans, in the privacy of his own head.

Over the years of flying all over the country—all over the world, now, with the conventions overseas—they've pretty well perfected getting out of an airport in record time, and from wheels-down at Austin-Bergstrom it takes them less than an hour to pull into their driveway. Home's a gorgeous spread on the lake, a long private drive and mature trees all over the grounds. The house is a compromise: Jensen thought it was too much space, and Jared thought the layout was too weird, but the private dock won them both over. Jared's gladder every day that they pulled the trigger, though, and gladder still that they've been able to maintain some semblance of privacy. No Insta-pictures here, no interviewers allowed. Means that when Jensen pulls the Range Rover into the garage there's no one trying to peep in and see what they're doing, no weird fans or photographers to see Jared lean over as soon as Jensen puts it into park and palm his jaw and pull him in and kiss him. Startled at first, but then he smiles against Jared's mouth and kisses back, slow and shallow.

"You've been waiting to do that all day," Jensen murmurs, when Jared pulls back, and Jared shrugs, not denying it. He's been waiting to do a lot more. He drags his thumb over the beginnings of Jensen's beard again, looks at him. The garage's huge windows let in a wave of late-morning light, casts gold over Jensen's eyes, sparks his lashes and stubble golden-red. Shows off his freckles, and the shine on his lip that Jared left. He touches there, a swell of heat in his belly, and Jensen smiles again but catches his hand before he can do more. "C'mon. Let's get this done."

Jared sighs. "Do we have to?" Jensen only rolls his eyes, and kisses Jared's thumb. "Fine," Jared says, "but you owe me."

"Oh, I bet," Jensen says, but he swings out of the car then, too, and Jared's got no choice but to follow. There are things they should do, it's true. And hell, they have today off, and tomorrow too, before they have to fly back to Vancouver. They have time. They've made the time.

Jensen's in charge of sorting out the laundry, because he says that he can't trust Jared to empty the pockets right—total lies—and so Jared takes the time to go through the house, room by room. Saying hello, and checking up, too. They've got paid caretakers, gardeners and Maricela who comes by twice a week to dust up and clean, but it's still their house. Jared misses it, like a dope, when they're gone. Most of the curtains are drawn, by Maricela's habit, and he opens them up, lets all the light in. The living room, the den, the lounge where they regularly trounce Steve at pool, when they actually get to be home. The kitchen, and there the little neat list Maricela left of things she had to buy, things she threw out, and a note that she made salsa and left it in the fridge.

That's where Jensen finds Jared, when he comes back downstairs with a laundry basket. "I see you're hard at work," he says, dry, but he lets Jared put a salsa-laden chip in his mouth anyway, and hums. Damn right. Maricela's tomatillo salsa is worth taking a break for. "Mm, okay," Jensen says, through a full mouth. "Okay, fair. But, dude."

"I'm going, I'm going," Jared says, and caps the salsa back up, promising to get back to it later.

He goes and plugs in both of their phones, and sits in the office with the window open, jasmine-smell pouring in, while he emails their reps. A handful of pictures they each took, to be parted out on their SM for the fans to get excited about over the next few days, and a couple of quotes and stories to write up. Jared gave up control of his Twitter a year or two ago after the last time he had a bad day and was an idiot, and Jensen took his phone right out of his hand and grabbed him around the waist and said, Enough, Jay. Annoying at the time, but honestly, it's so much more relaxing to just be… cut off.

Still, sometimes he does like to see what people are posting. That photographer who's been following them around got some good shots, looks like. He scrolls through the feed. Nice pictures of the ladies—Brianna and Kim have really been glamming it up lately—and he laughs hard enough at a ridiculous cap of Misha that he has to text it over, with no comment, and a minute later gets a brief I hate you in response. He grins, tosses his phone back down to charge, and finally ventures into some of the fan shots in the hashtag. He's trained himself pretty well not to read the commentary—the options seem to be either fawning, which is uncomfortable, or vile, which is what it is—but from what he can't help but see people seem to have enjoyed it. Since they moved in together, some of the nuttier girls have gone off the deep end, but for the most part things quieted down. Now there's just a lot of happy encouragement sent their way. A lot of real, intense messages, too, and questions at conventions he wishes he had a better answer for. If only they'd managed to make it happen when those it gets better videos were going around. It got so much better, he wants to say. Not perfect, because nothing's perfect and never should be, but oh, man. It got a lot better.

"That's a good one," he hears, and blinks back to reality, after who knows how long. The picture on the screen's one of them—of course, one of them—taken by one of the girls in the audience. From the angle Jensen's face is the only one visible, and he looks… Well, really, Jared's the only one who should see him like that. The girls are always clever with their timing, though. Jensen comes up and leans over the back of his chair. "You know when that was?"

Jared shrugs. "Yesterday?" he says, and Jensen flicks the back of his shoulder. It's true, though—on stage everything turns into a blur. They were doing a bit, probably, because they usually are, but they're basically hugging. No PDA, that's always Jensen's rule, but there's no way Jared's not going to hug Jensen, given the opportunity. No matter how earsplitting the response.

"You don't remember?" Jensen says, and Jared looks up, over his shoulder. He's getting an amused look. "So you're just a little shit without even planning it?"

"I'm an enormous shit, thank you very much," Jared says, immediately, but then he remembers. "Oh, yeah."

"Oh, yeah, he says," Jensen says, rolling his eyes, and then shoves Jared's shoulder so the chair spins when Jared laughs. "Yeah, laugh it up. Like I wasn't trying to think about saggy ass and reshoots in the rain when you were just grinning up a storm, shithead."

Jared catches him around the waist, still chuckling. "I really didn't mean to," he says, and it's—mostly honest. Jensen folds his arms, playing irritated, but Jared's been watching him about to break for a gag reel for over a decade now and he can see the cracks. He stands up, still holding onto his waist, and gets right up in his space, looking down, grinning. "Not my fault you're all hot and bothered for my bod."

That gets him a snort, and he leans down and takes a kiss while Jensen's smiling. That was—yeah, he remembers now. Right there, in front of everyone, and he'd gotten to come in close and hold Jensen's body and he'd brushed his mouth against the top of Jensen's ear, and the little sound Jensen made wasn't one the mics would pick up. He pulls back, now, and watches Jensen licks his lips. Tasting them both. God, it's hot when he does that. Jared keeps hold of his waist and walks him backwards, pressing him up against the wall between the signed Pearl Jam poster and Jensen's framed Willie records, and Jensen's eyes are closed, his ears going red, and that's a perfect opportunity to lean in and down and breathe against his ear again, to brush his lips there, to feel Jensen give that full-body shiver that means—oh, yeah. They're on.

"Like that?" Jared says, and Jensen punches him soft in the gut. He says oof, obligingly, but he's smiling.

"Right in front of everybody," Jensen says, looking up. He licks his lips again, his eyes on Jared's mouth. "You know that drives me crazy, Jay."

"Yeah, I know," Jared says, shrugging, and Jensen rolls his eyes, but he squeezes Jared's bicep, too, curves in close, and Jared kisses him again and thinks, well, maybe he'll be in some trouble—later.

They've been together a long time, though. It's not a crazy, heady rush—not even close to their first time, all shock and teeth and shoving, good and painful and intense enough that Jared thought his heart would just beat right out of his chest. Jensen holds his arm, holds him close there against the wall, kisses him soft and lazy. He makes a little pleased noise when Jared scrapes teeth over his lip, tips his nose against Jared's. "Wanna shower," he mumbles, and Jared groans, stands up straight. With Jensen down to his socks, pressed back against the wall, Jared's got the advantage, and Jensen—yeah, that's working for him. Another thing about being together this long: Jared knows exactly how to push every button.

He lets Jensen lead the way down the hall to their bedroom, and then to the huge open bath. "Music?" Jared says, and Jensen shrugs, and so Jared flips through his phone and finds the playlist with the name Jensen hates: funky grooves to fuck to—but the name's accurate. Slow grinds, heavy bass, and when it comes on to the surround speakers Jensen pauses in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt to give Jared a look over his shoulder. Jared only grins and shrugs at him, perching his ass on the bathroom counter, and Jensen gives a sigh but he keeps stripping, so it's all good in Jared's book.

Big window across the back wall of the bathroom, letting in more of that syrupy daylight. They haven't been able to get out much lately and Jensen's skin has gone all creamy again, freckles fainter, except on his cheekbones and hands where they never really fade. He flips on the shower, strips off his jeans, and he doesn't look at Jared when he steps under the water, which is just as well because Jared's pretty sure he's got a dorky goddamn look on his face. Years and years of this and he's used to most of it, even sometimes takes some of what they have for granted. Jensen naked and shining in the sunlight, though, that's—a lot, no matter what. Jensen letting him see, when he used to be almost shy—that's more, sometimes, than Jared knows how to take.

That first time isn't the one Jared thinks about, much. Too much booze in both of them, and too much of a chance for regret. The second time, that's the one he thinks of as their real anniversary. That night, at Jensen's apartment in Vancouver, and the doorman had let Jared up because he saw Jared about as much as he saw Jensen, and that meant that Jared got all the way up there fueled on adrenaline and hope and knocked on the door before he thought that maybe, maybe Jensen wouldn't—that maybe they'd broken something, between them, and putting it back together wasn't in the cards. When Jensen opened the door he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt Jared had given him, and he was wearing his glasses, and the look on his face was—Jared's never forgotten that. That exact moment, right then. What came after was almost immaterial, compared to that single second.

What came after wasn't exactly a hardship, though, and between them they've always been good at this. When Jared steps under the spray and touches all that wet soft skin Jensen doesn't flinch, but only tips backward, knowing Jared will balance him. "What if I just dropped you?" Jared says, and Jensen huffs, turning so the shower scatters over his shoulders.

"You think that'll increase your chances of getting any," Jensen says, sliding his hands up Jared's chest, "go ahead and try it."

It's a great shower, multiple showerheads and plenty of room for two. They pass soap back and forth between them, getting clean-ish, and Jensen spends some time mapping the muscle in Jared's back, his ass, his thighs. In return Jared washes Jensen's hair, just to massage his scalp and neck and feel the way he almost purrs in response, and presses kisses all over his shoulders when he's done. He's always loved this part—broad, undeniably masculine, perfect. "What do you want?" he says, leaning in, and he's really asking. They have all day, they can do anything.

Jensen's hand finds his hip, squeezes. His head tips, and Jared finds the curve of his ear again, kisses at the back of it. Gets another shiver, Jensen's shoulders pressing wet and warm against his chest. "I want it…" Jensen trails off, and shakes his head. He detaches Jared's hand from his waist, lifts it, presses his mouth against Jared's knuckles soft and wet and shocking-hot, and his eyes when they meet Jared's are heavy, dark, steady.

Dried off, laid out on their bed with the music still playing, Jensen leans over Jared's chest and kisses him, open-mouthed and taking his time about it. He's always loved kissing and Jared's come to love it too, even if he always used to think of it as just a preamble when he was younger. Jensen's taught him a lot, over the years. How good it is just to lay together, and how good a silk-blend coverlet feels against his skin, and how the point of his jaw can get almost painfully sensitive when Jensen's hands are buried in his hair, and Jensen's mouth moves there, and his teeth scrape against that open curve of bone. "Jesus," Jared says, squirming like he always does, and Jensen laughs, ducks down and bites at his collarbone instead, and oh, yeah. Things Jared never knew he liked, never knew were even a thing. Jensen squeezes at his dick, heavy already with blood and wanting, but it's not a yanking goad into getting along with things—it's just familiar, almost kind. Hello.

More things Jared didn't know: how much Jensen likes it, that Jared's bigger than him. He pushes Jensen onto his back, after a while of Jensen playing, and rolls in so he's hovering, blocking Jensen from the sunlight, and they're pressed against each other hip to hip but Jared's still got five inches on him—four, if Jensen's lying to the press—and Jensen's already flushed, already hard, all open and ready for it, but his lips part in that fantastic turned-on way, getting Jared above him, and Jared smiles, slides his hand down Jensen's side. Other things Jared didn't know: how much he'd like that Jensen wanted him bigger. "Want to suck my dick?" Jared says, soft, and Jensen's eyes screw closed, his hips flinch up into Jared's, but he breathes out a moan, and Jared lifts up, shuffles up the bed on his knees, and Jensen wraps an arm around his hips and a hand around his dick and sucks it in, practiced, easy. So slick, soft, and Jared sighs and cups a hand around the back of his head to support him and fucks in, shallow but good. Middle-of-the-night whispering, years ago, and Jensen had admitted he liked the way his jaw felt sore, after, and Jared had almost busted a nut just thinking about it—easy enough to indulge Jensen, especially when it feels this goddamn good.

"You look incredible," he says, being nothing but honest. Pink flush over his cheekbones to his ears, streaking down his throat—his perfect mouth broken open over the thickness of Jared's dick—and he opens his eyes, looks up as he slides down as far as he can go, the head threatening his throat, and the slight sheen of tears is just—god, god, how did Jared ever get this lucky? He pulls back, all the way out with his prick gleaming all over with Jensen's wet, the vein gleaming, and Jensen sucks in a deep breath, licks his lips, and groans when Jared slides all the way deep again, and digs his nails into Jared's ass to keep him going.

They've got enough practice that Jared won't come from this, but god is it tempting. A long, slow rut in, and he knows Jensen could take it faster, but that's not how he wants to play it. He pulls out when his nuts start to clutch up for real, and Jensen gasps and holds his hips and says, rasping, "Fuck," and Jared can't do anything but agree. He leans down, dick dragging wet over Jensen's stomach while he finds his lips to kiss them, tasting himself, massaging the sore worked muscle in Jensen's cheeks. "Good?" he says, and Jensen moans, holds him, thighs clutching around Jared's hips when they settle together. He's still hard, harder, pressing thick against Jared's abs, and Jared tries to keep his head clear but it's tough, honestly, when he has Jensen like this.

"Tell me what you want?" he says, lips on Jensen's cheek, at the corner of his eye where tears leaked, when Jared pushed too deep. "C'mon, talk to me, tell me."

"Fucker," Jensen breathes, pressing up into him. "You know."

"Yeah," Jared says, against his temple, "but I want you to tell me anyway."

A game, sometimes. How raw he can get Jensen to be. "Fuck me," Jensen says, voice sore, and Jared laughs, breathless and delighted, his gut clutching up crazily at how good that sounds out of Jensen's mouth.

"How?" he says, pushing his luck, and Jensen pushes at his chest, forces him up so they can look at each other, and Jensen's eyes are nearly black and his lips are battered-red, and he says, "Like this," unexpected and low and soft, his fingers touching Jared's throat, and he says, "I want to see you," and Jared swallows, nods, doesn't have to say anything else.

Jensen doesn't need much prep anymore, and Jared doesn't want to make him wait. Slicked up, he dips his thumb in and watches Jensen's mouth part, and then he gathers Jensen's thigh up against his side and leans in close and pushes his dick inside, blooming past the resistance, going slow, and watches all of Jensen's attention turn inward. They've traded back and forth on this and Jared knows the feeling, that crazy stretch—but oh, from this side, that clutching tightness, squeeze of Jensen's body, feeling him all the way, it's like—nothing else. No one else. "Yeah?" he says, pointless, like he doesn't know, and Jensen blinks, refocuses, sinks his hand into Jared's hair and turns his face away from the sunlight and presses his lips against Jared's bicep, and he mumbles, slow, and Jared takes it like the command it is, and stays buried up close with his heart throbbing in his gut for a full minute before he twists his hips back and presses in again, following the beat of the slow bass playing, a steady pulsing rock. Jensen groans, his back arching, and Jared buries his face in Jensen's throat and does his duty, fucking good and deep and slow, giving everything he can, as long as he can.

The sounds Jensen makes—the smell of him, the sweat between them. Jared keeps his eyes closed, feels his skin, his pulse throbbing under Jared's lips. His balls ache but it's that sweet ache of a good fuck, his muscles humming like he's midway through a marathon. Jensen's got an arm wrapped around his neck, a hand on his chest, his legs clutched up high around Jared's waist, and inside he's melting-soft, broken-open-wet, his dick leaking slick all over Jared's stomach. Slow like this, Jared's not chasing anything and he gets to feel every inch, his skin an oversensitive tingle, hot from his lips to his nipples to his fingertips, overaware of every place they're touching.

Too hot, finally—the sun's sunk down, slicing through the bedroom windows, making the bed a pool of light. "Oh, god," Jared says, sliding a hand to Jensen's hip, squeezing. He rolls his forehead against Jensen's collarbone, humps in and stays there, pressed deep, grinding, so Jensen makes a hiccupy noise keep in his chest. "Yeah, that's it. Come on."

"Fuck," Jensen says, squirming against him, and his legs fall open, his thighs shaking. "Oh, I—Jay—yeah, come on, do it."

Jared drags in a breath, pushes up, finds Jensen red-faced and sweaty, his shoulders and chest shining. "Yeah?" he says, but there's no answer—he shoves in, harder, and Jensen lifts into it and groans, gripping at Jared's ass to pull him in deeper, and then that's—that's it. All the permission Jared needed, and he fucks like he means it, then, long deep in-and-out that's dragging at the absolute limits of his control, but he wants to get Jensen there first—and he's getting there, Jared knows he is, by how his hands clutch and his chest is heaving and how his dick's a dark urgent swell against his belly, dragging between them, a trail of wet spilling down Jensen's side. He balances on one arm and slides careful fingers around Jensen's balls, rubs them warm and tucks them up close against Jensen's body, and Jensen opens his eyes and stares at him, looking surprised somehow in the middle of all this. "Come on, baby," Jared whispers, slipping his thumb over the strained wet root of Jensen's pretty dick, and Jensen grabs at his arm and arches up and comes, finally, spurting all over his soft belly, his body straining and clutching at Jared's and ah, ah fuck, Jared did that for him, Jared made that happen—and Jared fucks him through it, keeps up that same steady pace and nails him right there where he needed it, where he wanted it as long as he could get it, until Jensen's thighs cringe and he presses his fingers against Jared's belly and he makes a low pained ah—and Jared pulls back, out, into cruel cold air for a half-second before he strips his dick as fast as he can go, the visual in front of him more than enough—Jensen sprawled and sweat-soaked and well-fucked, shuddering and sensitive, and his eyes open and his fingers curl against Jared's sides and he says, yeah, give it to me, show me, and Jared shoots over his knuckles, spatters Jensen's hip and the still-thick curve of his dick and his thigh, and Jensen sighs, as satisfied as though it were him who got to come a second time. He reaches for Jared, easy demand, and Jared goes, collapsing down onto the welcome stretch of his body, smearing everything between them, and it's worth it to find Jensen's mouth, soft, starting once again to smile.

#j2 fic #j2 non-au #my writing #commission #please admire the art piece really #it's so soft and good

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ladywinchester1967 · 5 years

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A Rare Occurrence

Type: One Shot

Pairing: Dean x Female

Characters: Dean Winchester, Female Character, Sam Winchester (mentioned).

Warnings: PWP. SMUT ahead; spanking (for a second), oral (female receiving), slight praise kink, little bit of angst, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your Willy), biting, mentions of drunken behavior. I think that’s it. **pics not mine**

A/N: I blame @waywardnerd67 and @kittenofdoomage for this one. First the porn war and it was Sinful Sunday. I’m not even sorry.

A/N 2: I’m having to re-post this because it was flagged by tumblr and had literally been sitting in content appeal for (I swear to Lucille) six months. So, let’s try this again shall we?

Her eyes fluttered open; the hazy morning light coming through the thin curtains of her bedroom. Blinking a few times to rid her eyes of sleep, she slowly got up out of bed and went to use the restroom. When she had finished her business, washed her hands and brushed her teeth; she walked out of the bathroom, fully expecting him to be awake. He was usually jostled out of a deep sleep by the loss of her presence in their shared bed.

But no, not this time. Dean Winchester was still out like a light. She stood at the foot of the bed, admiring his sleeping form, a smile playing over her lips. He was laying on his stomach, his broad back and shoulders bared to her by his lack of shirt and the fact that the blankets were laying around his waist. He always complained that he got hot because she kept too many blankets on the bed; spoken like the walking, talking, human heater that he was. His long arms were tucked under the pillow, his back rising and falling with each easy breath that he took. She couldn’t help but let the smile on her lips grow; he was big, handsome, gentle and all hers. She climbed back into bed, moving as stealthily as possible. Being married to a hunter had its advantages; being able to sneak up on him was not one of them. She positioned her body so that she was laying halfway across his back. Her left hand gently landed on his bicep as he twitched in his sleep. She peppered kisses across his shoulder blades and upper back, relishing in the feeling and taste of his skin. She heard him groan as she kissed her way up to his neck, letting her right hand sink through his thick, brownish blonde locks.

“Dean,” she said quietly in his ear as she planted kisses on the cartilage of his ear “Deeeean.”

He grunted, just waking up as she let her left hand drift down his left arm, her hand eventually resting over the back of his hand. Her fingertips found the ring around his fourth finger and she smiled.

“All mine.” She repeated in her mind. She squeezed the back of his hand and called his name again in a sweet tone.

“Mh?” He asked sleepily, more awake now.

“Wake up babe.” She told him

“Nuh-uh.” He grunted back.

She kissed down the side of his neck and on to his shoulders and he inhaled sharply.

“C’mon hon.” she coaxed, kissing his shoulder blades again as he wriggled under her. He could feel her breasts against his back through the thin tank top she wore to bed. She squeezed his hand in hers again. He rolled on to his back and she positioned herself over him, straddling his hips, his hardness evident below her.

“Good morning.” She said sweetly as she bent over him and kissed him.

“Hold that thought,” he said sleepily “I know my breath stinks.”

“Fair enough.” She said with a grin. He threaded his fingers through hers, the diamonds on her engagement and wedding bands sparkling in the grey morning light. He grinned and she rolled off of him. He quickly brushed his teeth and came back to bed with a yawn, his boxer briefs hanging just low enough to show off the V cut in his hips. He climbed back in bed and got on top of her, lacing his fingers through hers once again and pinning them by her head. He kissed her deeply and passionately, he tasted like minty toothpaste, his full and slightly chapped lips closing over hers. When the kiss ended, he pulled back and asked

“Worth the wait?” His green eyes sparkling like the purest emeralds.

“Of course,” She told him “you always make my waits worth it.”

“In that case,” he said and kissed her fully again, he let go of one of her hands, using his now freed hand to comb through her long hair “let me make last night up to you.”

“You already did.” she told him.

He’d missed their dinner date by four and a half hours, hunting down the coven of witches had taken longer than he or Sam had anticipated and she ended up going to bed alone and crying herself to sleep. When he finally did show his face; the remorse was evident in his expression. He’s brought home her favorite ice cream, chocolate chip cookie dough, as an apology and had taken his time drawing as many orgasms as possible out of her.

“I still feel bad,” he told her, his eyes still showing hurt “I know you went through a lot of trouble to make a special dinner for us and I blew it by being late.”

“Dean, I’m over it.” She told him, her hand covering his “You’re beyond forgiven.”

“I made you cry,” he said “and I disappointed you. The two things I hate most in the world.”

“I thought disco was the thing you hated most in the world.” She teased him.

In spite of his low feelings, he laughed. She always had the ability to cheer him up, even when he didn’t want to be. A grin spread across his face and he kissed he again.

“Let me make it up to you baby,” he said through their kiss “let me show you how sorry I am.”

Who could pass that up?

He pulled back as she nodded, biting her lip and letting her hand comb through his hair again.

“Say it baby,” he told her as he kissed her again “talk to me.”

“Yes,” She said breathlessly “show me how sorry you are.”

“Good girl.” He praised her.

He used his size advantage to pin her against the pillows, snaking his body between her legs. She slid her hand down the back of his head and to his shoulder, letting her nails scrape over his skin, an audible growl coming from him. He snapped his covered erection into her underwear covered heat, making her moan.

“Let me concentrate on you.” He told her, breaking their kiss.

She knew how he was when he was lost in his feelings. The guilt and self loathing seemed to permeate from him; she remembered a night at the beginning of their relationship when he’d missed her birthday party because of a hunt. He’d gotten horrifically drunk and she found him practically passed out at a bar.

“Why me?!” He demanded to know once she’d gotten him outside and into the hot, July night. “Why the fuck would you want to be with someone like me?!” He roared at her.

“Dean. STOP.” She yelled back at him “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I am!” He insisted, his drunken words slurring together “You fucking deserve more than what the fuck I can give you! Just tell me to fuck off and leave!”

“I’m not gonna do that.” she told him as she helped him into her car and drove him back to her house. He’d spent the night in the bathroom, alternating between puking his guts up and sleeping. She’d stayed by his side, making sure he didn’t choke to death on his own vomit and nursing him back to health the next day.

He’d apologized profusely for ruining her birthday when he’d finally regained his strength.

“Dean,” she told him, wrapping her arms around his neck “I chose you, I love you for exactly who you are. Scars, flaws, good habits, bad habits; all of it makes you who you are. And I love you. ALL of you.”

Where he wasn’t good with words, he more than made up for in actions. They’d christened nearly every surface in her house that day.

Happy birthday indeed.

Four years later, she found herself in nearly the same position as she surrendered control over to him. He nipped her earlobe, squeezing her hand tightly and making her gasp.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he promised, his breath sending little puffs of air on to her skin “Mrs. Winchester.”

A giggle escaped her mouth

“You don’t get tired of that, do you?” She asked him and he pulled back, shaking his head.

“No, I don’t.” He said and started kissing down her neck, sucking on her skin and leaving marks in his wake, his tongue running over the marks as she moaned. “Mine,” he murmured quietly against her flesh “all mine.”

He let go of her hand and pushed the hem of her tank top up and yanked it off of her. She was left in a pair of barely there pink panties, he grinned and bit his lower lip, admiring her.

He sat up, his fingertips sliding down her sides and over her hips, tracing the waistband of her panties as she trembled under his touch. No man before him had worshiped her body the way he did, even now it still took her breath away. His fingers ghosted over the tops of her thighs and down to her inner knees, he ran his fingers back up and then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down. She lifted her hips to assist him and he pulled them off of her. Now naked, she ached for his touch.

“Dean,” she breathed “please.”

He let a moan escape him mouth as he picked one of her legs up, throwing it over his shoulder. He kissed from the inside of her knee, up her inner thigh. He intentionally skipped where she wanted him most; however intoxicating her scent was, and kissed down her opposite inner thigh to that inner knee.

She squirmed as he threw her other leg over his shoulder.

“Deeeeean!” She begged and he chuckled against her skin.

“Be patient,” he commanded “good things come to those who wait.”

She frowned but didn’t protest as he worked his mouth up to the apex of her thighs. His hands slid over the tops of her thighs and up her hips, holding her firmly in place. He flattened his tongue and licked a thick stripe from her hole to her clit, making her moan loudly.

“That’s it,” his voice ladened with desire “let me hear you sweet girl.”

He sucked her clit into his mouth, his tongue mercilessly lapping over it, her back arching. She wanted desperately to move her hips, but he held her down. He was in the driver’s seat and she’d have to take what he gave her. He slowly and deliberately licked and sucked through her folds, drawing pornographic moans and curses from her. He swirled his tongue inside of her, making her eyes pop open.

“Oh god, DEAN!” She cried out, feeling like fire and ice were coursing through her body at the same time. He glanced up, seeing her head thrown back as she cried out, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands clutching the pillow under her head. He drifted his hand down to her clit, the pads of his fingers pushing into her and rolling it in slow circles as his tongue flicked in and out of her. Her cries grew louder as he kept up his pace. She couldn’t warn him that she was coming, a solid chill running up her spine.

“Come on baby,” he encouraged her “I can feel you. Let go.”

She let out a loud moan as the orgasm rocked through her, her back arching to the point of painful, but she didn’t care. He worked her through her orgasm, drawing it out for longer than should be allowed by law. She panted, her legs falling open as he sat up on his knees, grinning like the cat that got the canary.

“Mh,” he said as he looked down at her and licked his lips, she was blissed out and breathing hard. Her skin had a pink tinge to it and her pupils were so dilated, he could barely see her eyes color “as much as I love seeing you like this,” he pulled off his underwear and lined up his hardened cock with her soaked hole “I wanna be in you more.”

“Please.” was all she could get out before he sank into her, filling her up as he growled. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he scooped her up so that she was in his lap, grinding down on him. He gripped the hair on the back of her head with one hand and wrapped his free arm around her waist.

Her hands threading together on the back of his head as he pulled her into a hard, brusing kiss. The taste of her juices were still lingering on his mouth, mixing with his taste made for an insanely addictive combination.

“Oh fuck, baby.” He groaned against her mouth as she rode him. She picked up the pace, chasing her release again, her tongue sliding into his mouth and massaging over his. He pulled back and tugged on her hair, forcing her to look at him.

“Slower.” He commanded and she nodded, slowing the pace of her hips. “That’s it,” he murmured, his lips against her neck “that’s my good girl.”

She whimpered as he bit down on her neck and sucked on her skin. She dragged her nails down his back, sure to leave red marks in their wake, an explicit moan escaping his mouth.

“Oh god, Dean!” She cried out, resisting the urge to slam him down into the mattress and fuck him senseless. As if he could read her mind, he gripped her tightly and thrust his hips up to meet hers; the sound of skin hitting skin reverberated through the room as a mix of moans and sighs came from both of them.

“Turn over,” He told her “on your hands and knees.”

At his words, her knees nearly gave way as she crawled off of him and did as he’d asked. She slightly shivered with anticipation as she popped her butt into the air and he gave it a firm smack with his hand, making her cry out and he chuckled.

“Look at you, showing off for me.” He said and he teased her entrance with the head of his cock. His thrusts were shallow as he gripped her hips and she whined.

“Dean, please!” She cried out

“Tell me baby.” He commanded

“Please,” she begged “god, please fuck me!”

He thrust deep into her and bit the outer shell of her ear as he did, making a scream rip through her throat.

“So fucking hot when you beg for me.” He whispered in her ear as she whimpered.

“Fuck!” She cried as he began to move, his hips snapping into her, making the flesh on her behind ripple as he did this. He tightened his grip on her hips as she alternated between moaning and screaming. He slid his hands up her body and pulled her back flush against his chest. He wrapped one arm around her, holding her in place, his free hand tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

“Keep screaming like that and I won’t last.” He told her as he kissed her. She moaned against his mouth, their tongues doing battle for dominance. When they parted, she sighed as he picked up the pace with his hips.

“Dean, Dean,” she breathed over and over, like a prayer “god you feel so good!”

“That’s it sweetheart,” he responded, tightening his grip on her “you feel so fucking good.” The chord in his lower belly was almost too taught to keep holding any longer. “I’m gonna come baby, you wanna come with me? Huh?”

She took one of his hands and guided his fingers to her clit. He made harsh circles with his fingers.

“Oh fuck, fuck!” She cried out, the intense sensations washing over her “GOD DEAN!”

Her walls clamped down on him, another moan escaping his mouth.

“So tight,” he breathed in her ear “so fucking tight, all for me.”

“Oh FUCK!” She cried out, the knot in her stomach gave way as the chord in Dean’s belly snapped and she let out a scream that would make a porn star blush as he finished inside of her, his hot seed filling her up. She nearly collapsed in his arms; her legs feeling like jelly as he eased her on to the bed and pulled out of her. She laid on her stomach as he lay beside her, both of them breathing hard. They caught their breath in silence for a few moments and when she finally looked at him, he had a sweet smile playing on his lips, his fingertips brushing her back.

“What?” She asked

He brushed her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear as he kissed her forehead.

“I love you.” He told her

“I love you too.” She answered and kissed him. While their lives may not be perfect; in that moment, everything was just that. Total and complete perfection.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Squad:

@waywardbaby @waywardnerd67 @familybusinesswritingbro @ain-t-bovvered @mrswhozeewhatsis @unholyqu33n @dacleverfox @emoryhemsworth @bobasheebaby @myinconnelly1 @mogaruke @imma-winchester-addict @purpleskiesandcherrypies @dean-winchesters-bacon @animerose96 @roonyxx @snffbeebee @ezilyamuzed @srsllydunnodoncare @latetothewinchesterparty @emilyshurley @atc74 @midnightsilverafterdark @adoptdontshoppets @biawol @spaceystacey123 @bella-ca @clo-heda @closetspngirl @thekatherinewinchester @maddiepants @idreamofplaid @love-those-boys-in-flannel @flamencodiva @blueberrykushlovexoxo-blog @sandlee44 @tumbler-tidbits @rainbowsinthestorm @deans-baby-momma @algud

Dean/ Jensen:

@spnbaby-67 @akshi8278 @deanscarlett

#lady winchester writes #dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x ofc #Supernatural smut

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xoruffitup · 5 years

Text

Burn This First Preview: 3/15 Show Report

OKAY it’s 3 AM and I’m writing this on my phone so the format might be weird, but I have SO MANY thoughts and feels from tonight I’ve got to let the tidal wave out!!

First off - Yes, he looked gorgeous at stage door and he was so kind trying to sign for everyone he could! (The line was longggg.) I GOT HIS AUTOGRAPH AND THANKED HIM FOR SUCH A MOVING PERFORMANCE AND HE SAID “OH THANK YOU VERY MUCH” AND LOOKED UP AT ME WITH HIS GORGEOUS EYES AND GORGEOUS FACE AND THERE IS A PIC OF THIS MOMENT THAT WILL FOREVER LIVE IN MY HEART:

This is my new OTP, folks: Adam/The back of my head!

I attempted to ask for a pic but was hesitant and security had already half pulled him away so he was like “I don’t know if I’ll have time” sounding so nervous about getting to the whole line. BABY <333

Aksjsknsm I can’t believe I was this close to him - It hasn’t fully set in and omg I better just keep writing before it does set in and I lose my shit completely!

Play Highlights! (This list is Plot-Spoiler free.)

Alas, sadly there is not that much nakedness. He takes his pants off in Act 1 but has underwear and a long shirt on. The BEST is when he comes on wearing one of Keri/Anna’s kimono-style purple silk robes in Act 2 - I nearly DIED and cannot believe I saw that with my own eyes!! When he first steps onstage the robe’s open and he’s only wearing underwear so you get a nice chest glimpse, but then he sadly ties it. (Then proceeds to hilariously struggle with getting one of his arms through the complicated sleeves.) Oh, and did I mention the robe was paired with knee-high socks?

Adam is HYSTERICAL. He doesn’t come on stage for about the first twenty minutes, but when he did, it took all of 5 minutes for the audience to be in the palm of his hand, laughing at every other word he said. His delivery of all of Pale’s curse-laden, barely-logical rants and complaints is just masterful in comedic timing and effect. He’s a literal hurricane when he enters the show, flooding the stage with this frenetic, chaotic energy so intense he’s practically vibrating. He keeps everything at break neck pace, through 0-100 highs and lows where he’s bitching about parking one second, then animal-wail crying the next.

His character’s not likeable. Really, this is a testament and praise to Adam’s acting. After his first couple minutes on stage, there were stretches when I literally forgot it was him. When I was so taken in and then repulsed by this character in turns, his acting prowess overcame even my instinct to love him and everything he does on sight. I’m about to get deeper into the weeds on his character in the next section, but suffice it to say Adam’s performance is stellar and completely, convincingly transformative.

How heated does it get? The only intimate scene that happens in front of the audience includes some slow kissing, a bit down Keri/Anna’s neck, and wandering hands. The rest is implied off stage.

The play is set in the 80s, so while Keri looks KILLER in every single outfit, Adam’s suits are all big and baggy as was the style then and they’re not exactly flattering. His costume look is just a bit weird, not nearly as smolderingly hot as how they styled him in the promo pics. But even with that said.... The scene where they’re both close on the couch, talking softly before kissing happens? I would have still gone for him too. ;_;

The rest of this report is going to dive into and attempt to untangle some of the deeper elements and themes of the play. Stop reading here if you’re avoiding spoilers!

To my perspective, this wasn’t really a play about a smoldering, ill-advised love affair. Yes, that’s the main event, but this play is about so much more.

Anna and Pale are star-crossed lovers. No, not in the Disney or destined interpretation - I mean the proper, tragic meaning. Whatever is between them should not exist. Whatever is between them threatens and harms them both. Whatever is between them is not long for this world, and doesn’t belong in it.

But why doesn’t it belong? Sure, there are the technical, superficial reasons: Anna has a boyfriend; Pale is married with kids (though technically separated); They are polar opposite people - Sharing no visible common interests and with temperaments that couldn’t be more opposite.

What is the one thing stronger than all of that, which first brings them together? Their grief; Their shared (yet deeply personal and divergently different) senses of grief; The solace and understanding they can only find for that grief with each other. The loss they’ve both experienced is life-changing, and has no place to fit into or even exist at all in their normal lives.

And so, they hurtle into an affair that also has no place existing in their normal lives. By the end of the play, they both assert “I don’t want this.” To a certain degree, it’s the truth. It’s unlikely either of them would have willfully chosen to pursue the other, had they met under different circumstances. They would likely never have opened or even tapped at the floodgates of their attraction, unless they had both gravitated towards this dark, abnormal part of life outside the realm of everyday lives, jobs, rational behavior, and decisions.

To me, this play was really about confronting that abnormal, primal, and sometimes unfathomable level of being that exists below the everyday. Pale has a memorable remark about all the little lies people live with and show to the world each day. Sometimes - when it is cut open and its value or sense thrown into question by some great tragedy such as a loss like this - you lose touch with that everyday life and the person you think you are within that everyday world. It becomes painfully juxtaposed and shrunk tiny, in the face of something all-encompassing and all-powerful, like grief. It becomes exposed as paper thin; Everything within it questionable and perhaps useless.

There is something of the profound in an emotion like grief. When it’s shared with someone, it’s no wonder that that also unlocks some profound connection. Anna and Pale don’t like each other as people, and they certainly take no enjoyment in the grief that brought them together. Yet, the relationship that blooms from it contains a compulsion and truth neither of them can deny. Even though they “don’t want this” (the rational, everyday side of their minds talking), they both admit they’ve never felt anything like it before, and they keep finding themselves drawn together. They don’t want to want each other - It’s painful and frightening for both of them, and yet their attraction wraps them both just as completely as their grief.

Anna’s boyfriend Burton is the epitome of the everyday. He earns a lot of money, he’s a well-dressed gentleman. He’s a writer, and fancies he can capture and portray the entire spectrum of human emotion. Even “great love,” as he fumblingly attempts to describe towards the play’s beginning. Yet all his talk is vapid and empty; As is his relationship with Anna. Theirs is one of the everyday, rational variety. It belongs with the small lies we live with and put on and speak and perform each day - To keep our lives square and tidy and comprehensible.

Then - There’s the chaotic, unpredictable, bordering violent being of Pale. He is every sincere, larger-than-life emotion and base instinct most people tamp down and deny voice to. He represents the terrible, uncontrollable, threatening Truth of everyday masks, dark desires, and empty identities of performativity.

Their attraction is not something Anna can bear to look in the face. She throws Pale out and ends the relationship because that deeper truth of true emotion unlocked by her grief cannot coexist with her reality. Her ability to continue dancing, to continue the everyday life she’s trying so hard to believe in and trust the purpose of - It cannot contain Pale. He represents and unlocks profound, unknown feeling that casts the waking world as a shadow.

And yet for all that discomfort, she has an artistic breakthrough after the affair with Pale. She is inspired to finally choreograph Robbie’s final send-off piece. And with Anna, Pale unlocked a part of himself that was calm, gentle, and soothed - A version of himself totally incongruous with his own reality and the identity he wears. Both of them are changed through their journey together through the Profound. It is a deeply uncomfortable, destabilizing place that neither of them wish to remain in. And yet its power is undeniable; Its impact unforgettable. The very experience of it is something they seek comfort for and can only find from each other.

Is it better to tell little lies each day so the world will make sense? So you can understand exactly who’s looking back at you in the mirror, and the quotidian will shade your perception of the invisible and unfathomable depths of human experience? So everything will remain neat and in control?

Or - Does it give meaning to abandon control? To surrender to grief and undesired passion, for the sake of a reality that is uncompromisingly, viscerally, heartbreakingly genuine? The harsh, infinite light all the rest of life seems to be constructed to blot from our eyes?

I really hope that as more people see the play, people will start posting their interpretations as well! I would love some good analysis dialogues! In the meantime, I will now slide right back into flaily, trash fangirl mode.... Thank you for reading all this, if you got this far! Go see this marvelous, haunting play if you’re able!!

All the love to my fangirl besties!!! @reylonly Thanks for making it an amazing night! :’)))

#Adam Driver #Burn This #Broadway #Keri Russell #driverdaily

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omgilostmyshoe · 5 years

Text

Sabriel Week 2019. Day Six: Neighbours/Roommates

Waiting for Superman

(title from the song by Daughtry)

Rating: T

Pairing: Sabriel

Wordcount: 2028

Tags and Warnings: Human AU, K9 Unit Officer Sam Winchester, Author Gabriel, Aromantic Gabriel, Tooth-rotting fluff.

@sabrielevents

What to do when you find a stranger in your hallway, trying to get to the neighbor that is no longer there? You can try giving some advice on the cheap hotels nearby or just ignore him. Sam, however, is the officer of the law and cannot just let the man vanish into the night. Especially, such a cute man. So, he might as well offer him to stay until morning... Or until death does them apart.

"Police, freeze! Hands where I can see them!"

Sam reacts instinctively when he finds a stranger, trying to get into his neighbor's closed door.

The man in question freezes, following the commands, even though all Sam has is the dog on a leash. Which is actually quite a lot, considering that said dog is a trained police animal.

"Turn around and identify yourself!"

Again, the man complies instantly, his face changing from slightly concerned to surprised, when he sees the one who was giving out the orders. Sam knows that out of the uniform, without his badge or a gun, all of which are in the apartment, he can't really prove that he's a cop.

But he stands his ground, just as the dog at his side also stared down a possible foe.

"I'm Gabriel Novak. Just flew in, planned to crash in with my girlfriend, Ro. She lives there." The man still doesn't lower his arms, just points with one finger at the door he was fiddling with. "But it seems nobody is home..."

"She moved out. About a week ago. Said she's moving to Europe or something. And please, lower your arms... You can relax."

The more Sam talks, the more Gabriel face falls. He's handsome, but visibly tired, the dust of the road and lightning of the hall accentuating the lines of his face.

While wondering, what to do, Sam automatically pats the dog at his side, who relaxed as his owner does.

His neighbor was rather adventurous, her apartment always filled with new people, men and women alike. She loved to talk, but never would confess her own name. Her favorite subject of gossip though, when she managed to catch Sam, were her numerous lovers.

Mostly it was in some odd hours of the night, when after the double shift or an emergency, Sam was returning after a dog walk. The woman would glide out of her apartment--her gait couldn't be described any other way--and just start talking.

So this is how he knows, sort of, who the man before him is.

He was one of her more or less steady flames, Gabe, as she called him. Author of some books or something, always on the move, always traveling. Which is why their meetings were very few and far in between, but so hot she could not help herself but to "keep him," as she put it. Except now he wanted something more permanent, settling in New York for at least a year, and in the last conversation, Ro was lamenting how, "Gabe was getting clingy".

Apparently, her way of saying goodbye to clingy lovers was to move to the other side of the world without warning. Or anything.

"So... What's his name?"

Gabriel is the first to break the awkward silence, watching the dog at Sam's feet with a weak smile.

"Dogmeat." Sam grits out, readying himself for a joke, that he heard plenty, but Gabriel surprises him. He only lightly laughs and nods, winking at the animal.

"Good choice, and very good look alike. Though I certainly would like your version better if I could pet him."

It seems surprises would never cease today, as Dogmeat does the maximum his ironclad training allows. He quietly whines and tugs at the leash lightly, indicating that he would very much like to be petted by Gabriel. With a cautious stare, Sam hesitates, looking from the German shepherd to Gabriel again.

"So, no problems with dogs?"

"Is loving them too much counts as a problem?"

Sam chuckles and releases the dog, giving a freeing command. Dogmeat runs like a torpedo, paws scrambling on the slippery tile floor.

His furry body collides with Gabriel legs and the dog whines and wags his tail happily as the man immediately starts petting him.

Soon, Dogmeat is on the floor, all four legs up, his belly exposed for the expert rubs that Gabriel bestows, and Sam is left just to stare in amazement.

Even though his dog's reactions are the perfect judge of character already he, after getting permission, still snaps a pic of Gabriel, focusing on his face. The man probably thinks it's for a cute moment with the dog--which it is, partially--but Sam also sends the pic to Jody, asking to run an urgent background check and attaches a name.

In the meantime, Dogmeat having gotten plenty of belly rubs now stands and starts licking all over Gabriel's face, neck and even his hair.

Sam just got to save the poor man, a quiet call of dog's name enough to stop the shower of slobbery affections, and Gabriel nods gratefully.

He wisely doesn't speak before getting a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping his face of the worst of the damage.

"He likes you," Sam announces, perhaps a bit unnecessary, after the clear approval his dog shown this man.

"Well, at least somebody does, that's good."

He jokes, and smiles again, but Sam can see the exhaustion that weighs on him, and it's probably not all physical. Going to somebody you care about, expecting to find at least a place to rest and a friendly face, and finding only the closed door... That must be harsh.

"You don't seem so bad to me either," Sam gives up, smirking, and finally this gets his a more genuine and energetic response. He likes as Gabriel's face morphs and he smirks in return, winking again, now to Sam, which is just as effective as it was on his dog. He can’t say he’s ready to drop on all fours before the man just yet, but it’s a pretty close call.

"Which is why I'm gonna do you a favor."

"Oh?"

As Sam finally goes to unlock his door, Dogmeat glued to his side in the familiar formation, Gabriel tenses. Sam notices but does not comment, just gestures to the couple of suitcases, that are tucked in the corner of the hall.

"You need a place to stay the night, at least. As an officer of the law, I can't in good conscience simply leave you out in the cold at,” He checks his watch, “4 am." He then opens the door and ushers the dog inside, who promptly lays down at her appointed spot, waiting for the wash and feeding.

"So, you actually are a cop? Can I see the badge?"

A curious tilt of the head cannot hide a guarded stare Gabriel levels him with.

"Sure," that request is easy and actually sensible, making Sam like the man more and more, and with just a half a minute rummaging in the apartment, he shows off his credentials to Gabriel. Who hasn't moved much, though Sam noticed he and his suitcases had shifted a little closer to the exit, ready to bolt if needed with minimum casualties.

Sam smiles approvingly, wishing every citizen would be as vigilant and careful with their life and health. Perhaps then he wouldn't need to work as much.

On the other hand, that way, he might have not caught this late shift.

He might not have met Gabriel.

Who finally surrenders and rolls the suitcases in, while accessing Sam's home with a curious glance.

Dogmeat wags his tail happily from his spot, watching two people interact, talk, and touch.

It's just a random connection, as Sam helps Gabriel to shrug off the tangled coat.

But as Gabriel lifts his amber eyes, hand not moving from Sam's bare forearms, sending a wave of goosebumps from the contact, he speaks, low and serious.

"Thank you, Superman."

"You're welcome... What?"

And then Gabriel breaks out in a fit of giggles, breaking the moment and the contact, pointing at Sam's shirt, that does bear the symbol of the aforementioned superhero.

"You still haven't told me your name."

Sam blushes, running a hand through his hair and huffing and embarrassed laugh himself.

"Sorry. Sam Winchester. It's nice to meet you."

They shake hands, and there it is again.

Eye contact, catching, getting a lot longer than necessary, and Sam feels as his palm is enveloped in both of Gabriel's hands now, warm and dry.

"It truly is."

Sam turns in the bed, trying to escape the sun shining through the crack in the curtains.

As soon as he settles back into the warm cocoon of blankets and pillows and blessed darkness however, there is a broad wet tongue on his face, licking him thoroughly.

"Gabe, leave me alone. Day offff..." Sam mumbled, half asleep, hiding his face below his arms, shoving the loving attention away. Because really, he was promised a good rest tonight with as much sleep as he could handle.

"Wow, now I feel really offended, you can't even tell the difference between us."

Mocking remark sounds from the foot of the bed, definitely not from anywhere near his head, and Sam jumps up, eyes bleary, and trying to kick his brain into working mode.

He relaxes, finding Gabriel, not on the bed, only standing near, a tray laden with dishes in his hands.

The check of the bed reveals a bouncy Dogmeat, who's blinking happily at Sam.

"Off the bed! Now!"

The dog scatters off, properly shamed. For the moment, at least, until Gabe finds another way to sneak some treats to him or something.

Gabriel stalks closer, settling a tray across Sam's knees above the blanket. It is barely able to fit all the mugs, plates and saucers stacked onto it, all filled with delicious foods, and two main dishes even covered with fancy metallic domes.

"What's the occasion, Gabe? This seems like a lot."

He knows the answer, but he just likes to hear it. So he asks.

"Well, today

the day. It has been whole three years since we became roommates." Gabriel announces dramatically, even finishing off with a flashy shake of his hair, that got a lot longer, brown curls reaching his shoulders now.

"Seriously? Roommates? That's what you're going with?"

It is hard to keep a straight face while Gabriel does his thing, pouting and staring imploringly.

"Roommates with benefits?" Under Sam's raising his brows, unimpressed, and him fighting a smile, that probably got his face in a strange twitching grimace, Gabe gives up.

"Okay, okay. Three years anniversary, my lovely boyfriend Superman. I'm happy you're still with me, and, as astounding that is, still love me."

Sam ignores the pet name, that of course stuck--Dean laughed his ass off at that one--and pulls his boyfriend into a grateful kiss.

After a tender and long moment they separate, barely, Gabe smiling softly. Sam though, he looks into the amber eyes deeply, not searching or waiting for anything. He is long made his peace with how they are.

"Always. Happy anniversary."

The next kiss is longer, lingering, Sam clutching onto Gabe's thin shirt to tug him closer. They stop only when the tray clangs alarmingly, and both giggle before moving everything around.

Gabe slides under the blanket, cuddling to Sam's side and--dramatic as ever--reveals the first dish, lifting the dome covering.

The plate is practically drowning in maple syrup that drips from the impressive stack of fresh pancakes.

"That's... very sweet," Mumbles Sam, eyeing the stack.

"Indeed it is, which is exactly why I cooked it for myself. Yours is this one, my favorite health nut."

And with a loud smooch to the cheek, Gabe lifts the dome from the second plate, this one with totally different contents. A bowl with oatmeal--egg, steamed vegetables, and a little cheese on top--front and center, its aroma and sight mouthwatering. It is surrounded by different kinds of toasts: avocado, more vegetables, fresh this time, mixed in with Sam's favorite Italian cheeses.

"Thank you, Gabe... This is perfect."

It really is, the tray filled with both of their favorite items, lovingly prepared and carefully arranged. Gabe waves off the gratitude, but his smile says it all.

Before digging into the feast, Sam steals another thorough kiss from his boyfriend, deep and passionate.

They even actually manage to eat before falling into bed to satisfy a different hunger and between more kisses, Sam whispers, again and again,

"You are perfect. I love you."

#sabrielweek2019 #my writing #Sabriel fic #fluff #so much fluff #Human AU #Aromantic Gabriel

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islanani-blog · 5 years

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Allow myself to introduce my....self...

Ok so, it’s a new year, time for a new look…it’s time to break the mold of the old and be cool with what’s new. Like that Tupac song goes…”it’s time for a change, let’s change the way we eat, let’s change the way we live, and let’s change the way we treat each other. You see the old ways wasn’t working so it’s on us to do what gotta do, to survive…”

The New Year tells me that it’s time for a change...it’s time to reintroduce myself. It’s time for IslaNani sucka’s! That sounds good, don’t it? IslaNani….it’s….it’s….well it’s the soul in my food, my travels, and how I feel when I see my family and friends. IslaNani is a state of mind, a sojourn of the spirit, very Metamucil…just close them eyes, take a deep breath and when you reopen them eyes, see the world for what it was intended to be…beautiful, loving, and filled with those we care about the most. So…what does all this mean? Shee-yit, it means I’m back fool! But I’m changing up the game while staying true to what got me here and that is sharing my passion for life, food, and still making dumb assed uncle jokes along the way. So, you ready? I’m ready! Let’s get down!!

Ok then, I recently got back from a 19 day trip to Hawai’i and I have to say it was transformative. Not Transformative like Bumblebee or Optimus Prime Rib…but like it provided me the chance to be with my family as we found new things to love about a place we have gone for the last 10 plus years. It was really cool to see new things and go on new adventures in a place that had become so familiar and laden with the same haunts each jaunt. Think of it like looking at yourself in the mirror all the time, same old you. You say to yourself “I’m good looking but it’s the same reflection every time.” Then one day you realize, “Hey, I have really nice ear lobes…those are some nicely shaped lobes. I never realized how good looking those things are. I’m gonna go out and show my badass lobes to the globe.” I also came away with a new found appreciation for my family relationships in general. We even made some new friends that we will be in touch with for years to come. That’s what got me thinking about a shake-up in my blog postings. I’m still sorting this out, but I feel like mixing up food and travel will be a nice blend. Basically when I travel, I find something good that I ate and I come home and cook it. So why not bring the two together? Food and travel go hand in hand like Charlie Brown and Snoopy, ball games and hot dogs, a white Speedon’t and that one European dude at the beach playing badminton by himself for some reason…just matches made in heaven. I mean damn, they have a full channel dedicated to it. Not the European Dude Speedo Badminton Beach Championships (or the EDSBBC for short), but you know…travel. One day I’ll have to audition for one of those Travel Channel shows. We call it, “Can’t Take Him Anywhere Nice” starring Uncle Manny. But sadly, that dream will have to wait. Until then, I’m gonna show off some sweet Hawai’i pics and take on a couple different ways to prep up musubi as well as some egg rolls. So slap on those board shorts and that chef hat and let’s get to work motha sucka’s!

Egg Rollin’ with the Homies

Egg roll wrappers (thawed)

2 chicken breasts

1 bell pepper diced

1/2 onion diced

2 tbsp. of minced garlic

Taco seasoning to taste

This isn’t exactly a new one, but it’s something that the wife had on our last trip and she wanted me to make it for her. So to start, in a medium sized bowl, rub the chicken breasts with taco seasonings then put a little oil in a pan over medium-high heat and cook the chicken breast until done, about 10 minutes. Once done, remove from heat and place on a cutting board to cool. While those breastesses cool down, put the pan back on medium-high heat and add in the onion, garlic and bell pepper and cook for another 5 minutes. Remove from heat. Go back to the chicken and dice it up into small pieces, return the pan to the heat and mix in the chicken with the veggies and cook until it is all blended in. When done, set aside and allow to cool for about half an hour. While you wait, go like drink a beer or something. Once you have waited for half an hour, or about 4 beers (because 4 beers in half an hour is about right isn’t it?) take out the egg roll wrapper and place a couple spoonful’s of the mixture on the bottom corner. Wrap up the egg rolls and set on a cookie sheet, plate, or whatever flat surface you want to use. From here you can pan fry them in oil, or if you are one of those do-goody “I don’t fry stuff because I’m healthy, but I’ll bake the sh*t out of it” types then that’s cool too. Just put a little oil on a cookie sheet, brush a little oil on each egg roll and bake it at like 425 degrees or whatever temp you like. Me? I’m the “Fry-day is My-day” type so I puts ‘em in oil and eats ‘em up. If I wanted to be healthy I’d eat a salad and run a mile. So anyway, once these are done, you can set out some salsa for dipping or do it my way with a couple spoonfuls of sour cream mixed with Chipotle Tabasco for your dipping sauce. This recipe feels very Guy Fieri, but who gives a spit, they taste good cuz!

Don’t Worry, Musubi Happy

Steamed white rice (sushi rice preferred but jasmine is ok for musubi)

Nori sheets

Portuguese sausage

Salmon

Teriyaki sauce

Furikake

What you want to do first is steam the rice. While that steams, cut the sausage in long strips, then pan fry them on medium-high heat. They will be done when they are a little brown and slightly crispy. When done place on paper towels to cool but keep the oil from the sausage in the pan. Now put the salmon in that same pan and on the same heat, drizzle on some teriyaki sauce and cook on one side for about 8 minutes. Flip the salmon over, then, cook the other side for about 8 minutes, drizzling on more teriyaki sauce. When done, remove from pan and set on a plate. Next get the nori sheet and place on a sushi mat. Cover the nori with rice, salmon, and Portuguese sausage. Leave about an inch of space on the end of the nori so you can close and seal it. Sprinkle on a little Furikake and then roll it up in the mat. Taking a sharp knife, run it under some warm water and slice into equal-sized rounds. With every other cut, run the knife under warm water since this will help the knife cut through the nori and not tear away at it.

So there it goes…my first post of the New Year. Hope it was fun and informative because if not, too bad, it only goes downhill from here my dudes and dudettes! If you decide to try these recipes at home, just take your time with it and have fun. If you have kids, encourage them to help. Give them the hot oil and frying pans as well as the sharp knives, then, leave them unattended while you go fetch another drink. Nooo! I’m kidding! Let them turn the oven on too…all right y’all, until next time, be cool.

As promised, I have a sweet ass video of Hawai'i! Turns out my inlaw's neighbor works for a great ocean excursion company called Trident Adventures and they took us out for a cruise early after Christmas. You can find them at www.tridentadventures.com and they are worth checking out. They had plenty of snacks and drinks for the kiddos plus they are just very nice people. The crew is great and run by military Vets so you get to be out on the water with our nation's finest. I guess the crew of Hawai'i 5-O was out on the boat as well as the dude from Aquaman so they have a pretty swank clientele list. Even Z list stars like me (I was in a Hollywood movie about Prefontaine for like point zero 2 seconds). Even though I didn't sign any autographs that day, the kids had a blast and saw half of the supporting cast from Finding Nemo. I'm talking full on Honu, Whales, small fishies...but hey, we were just around the corner from Disney's Aulani so it made sense...

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winetae · 7 years

Text

⇾ dick n’ go (m)

⇁ female reader x seokjin

⇁ smut, crack || shopping for dicc!au

⇁ male objectification, superficiality, fuckgirl!reader, dirty talk, and cocky!jin if that isn’t your thing

⇁12.8k

. . .

After trooping through a series of horrendous first dates and mediocre hookups, you were convinced you would never find a man capable of satisfying your needs. Your friend recommends you try a slightly unconventional method to remedy your bad luck.

↳ alternatively: seokjin has a five star dick and you decide to give it a go

a/n; happiest birthday to my porn watching partner in crime, the one who sends me pics of Seokjin Bulges and occasionally of hairy toes !! i love you (ps; ty to everyone who encouraged me to finally finish this semi autobiographical piece;;)

“ — remarkable churn rate,” he boasted, the corner of his lips twitching into a satisfied smirk. “Of course, I’m aware this might not be of any significance to you, but it’s quite outstanding considering the circumstances.”

The soft glow of the candles cast shadows on his face, accentuating the tall bridge of his nose and the length of his eyelashes. He was classically handsome, with a strong brow and full lips, broad shoulders and a posture that belied his confidence.

At first, it had been easy to fake interest. His good looks had been enough of a distraction, but by the main course, your glass of red wine had become much more riveting than his one-sided conversations that all seemed to revolve around him. It wasn’t that you were turned off by cocky men. In fact, you liked someone who was confident in himself and his abilities. Confidence was generally an attractive trait in a partner, but tonight you couldn’t help but be put off by his behavior. It was becoming increasingly difficult to feign enthusiasm over his endless list of accomplishments, especially when he threw in a condescending remark your way every now and then.

This time you couldn’t even blame the dating agency for a faulty match-up. There had been no fluke of any kind; suited in crisp Tom Ford and polished Italian leather, he was exactly as described on paper—which had been all the more infuriating. Admittedly, when you had first met him tonight, you had swooned a little, not daring to believe your luck. With his slicked back hair and tailored suit, he was a sight for sore eyes.

In hindsight, you should have known better than to get your hopes up, especially if you considered your track record with men.

“Ah… Congrats.” You managed a strained smile while surreptitiously reaching for the bottle of Pinot Noir.

Regret started to pool in your gut. Signing up on a dating website hadn’t been the wisest move, you now realized. Had the wooing process always been this tiring? Maybe you were rusty, having been out of the game for too long. It hadn’t even been that long since your very public break-up with your ex-boyfriend.

A bitter taste lingered on your tongue when you let your mind wander back to the events leading up to the separation. All the missed calls and flimsy excuses should have alerted you, but instead of trying to talk things out, you had ignored the growing rift in your relationship. Now, you could only look back on those times with distaste. Truthfully speaking, there had been good times—great times, even—and maybe if things had ended cleanly then you wouldn’t be so worked up over the split. The break up would have been easier to digest if he hadn’t been such a prick... The worst part was he hadn’t even had the decency to deliver the news in person, as if none it had ever mattered to him like it had to you; no matter how you looked at it, it felt like two years of commitment had gone down the drain...

You gulped down the remnants of your drink, hoping to wash down the resurfacing memory, but not even the fancy wine bottled in 1982 could help you dial back the resentment that boiled beneath your skin. What kind of dickshit ended a relationship by changing their Facebook status to single?! It was a slap to the face that still stung no matter how many Netflix series you binged or pints of ice cream you devoured. Clearly, he had no respect for you... And that realization hurt more than the break-up itself.

After a week of wallowing in self-pity, watching reruns of That 70’s Show and eating pack after pack of spicy Doritos, your friend had managed to pull you out of the obligatory post-breakup moping stage. Realistically, you weren’t ready or interested in jumping head first in any kind of new relationship, but your friend had insisted you needed to get over the asshole you had been committed to for the better part of two years. You didn’t like the term ‘rebound’, but that was essentially what you were looking for by signing up on dating websites.

Meeting new people would be fun, she had promised. Yet here you sat squeezed into a dress one size too small, concealing yet another sigh by stuffing your face with one of the offered breadsticks.

You were well aware you wouldn’t find the love of your life tonight. Your expectations hadn’t been high to begin with but your date was so dreadfully boring, for lack of better words, that you couldn’t help but be disappointed. There was no chemistry between the pair of you; whenever you sought to deviate the conversation to a new topic, he steered it back to his subject of interest. You had quickly realized there was no common ground: you were an art history major with no knowledge in marketing or communication; he planned to have a kid before the age of 35 while you were just looking for some mindless fun... You could blame it on the age gap or the fact he had a stable working job and you were still finishing off your studies, but you were evidently in different places in your lives with different goals and desires.

Restlessness was beginning to creep up your legs and it took a huge amount of self-restraint not to check the time on your phone.

Putting aside your differences, it would have still been nice if your date paid attention to you instead of talking over you at every turn. Still, you tried to stay optimistic despite the lack of chemistry. Maybe he wanted to impress you or perhaps it was all just nervous rambling. You could overlook his desire to monopolize the conversation for now.

Well, if anything, at least you were getting expensive wine and a free meal out of this. You glanced down at your plate and then at his, noticing he hadn’t even gotten halfway through his medium rare steak. Why was he taking so long to eat the steak?! you silently despaired. Maybe if you glared at it for long enough, he would get the hint and cease his meaningless chatter.

“Oh, are you still hungry?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Should I call the waiter back?”

“NO, no!” You raised out your hands, waving them around in panic. But in your hurried attempt to dissuade him, you hadn’t noticed you had attracted the unwanted attention of the people nearby.

“That won’t be necessary,” you repeated quietly, slightly embarrassed by your outburst. You tucked your hair behind your ear self-consciously, trying to calm yourself down. The last thing you wanted was to create a scene.

“You must have quite the appetite to have finished so quickly.” He stared pointedly at the lone arugula leaf you hadn’t been able to pick up with your fork. You felt your cheeks flush at the insinuation, teeth tugging your bottom lip in vexation. Maybe he was just clumsy with his words and didn’t mean anything by it, but something about it didn’t sit well with you. Wanting to give him the benefit the doubt, you plastered on a smile.

“I’m fine,” you forced out, the corner of your lips twitching from the strain. “I’m full now, anyway.”

“Are you sure? You were staring at my dinner quite, er, intently.” He prodded at his meal with the silverware, voice laden with skepticism. Hand slowly curling into a fist, you tried not to look too affronted.

“It’s okay!” he pressed on, misinterpreting your silence. “Don’t be ashamed! I like a girl with an appetite. Models these days are all bones—nothing to grab onto. I find women like you more attractive.”

He made grabby hands to illustrate his point, gaze swooping down to ogle the peak of cleavage on display shamelessly. Your outfit wasn’t even that revealing—a modest black dress with a sweetheart neckline— but the way he leered at you as if you were a slab of meat on a platter made your insides twist with disgust. Rather than making you feel sexy and desirable, the intensity of his appraisal made you feel like you were being coated over in a layer of slime. You bit down your retort, nails digging into the palm of your hand to distract yourself.

“Oh?” you intoned dryly, shoulders hunching up defensively.

“Most definitely,” he nodded, taking no note of your evident discomfort. “I like it when a woman is a bit bottom heavy.”

“Excuse me?” This time you couldn’t hide the sheer incredulity that colored your tone, brows arching.

Your eyes fluttered to a close as you took a steadying breath, not trusting yourself to keep your expression in check. Was he being serious? This had to be some kind of joke... You refused to believe someone could be that dense. Even if he had meant his comment as praise, the way he went about to compliment you didn’t flatter you in the least. Sure, people were allowed to have their preferences but something in the way he spoke and delivered his speech made your skin crawl with mortification.

Either way, you knew you couldn’t sit through this dinner for any longer than you had to. You saw no point in letting the date drag on indefinitely since it was clear that it wasn’t going to be working out.

The five course meal wasn’t exactly cheap but you would pay your share. You’d even take on his portion of the bill if it meant you could go home right away. Sure, it would leave a small dent in your wallet, but you refused to stay and listen to him drone on for another two hours.

“I think I’m feeling sick, actually,” you excused yourself, clutching your stomach in a dramatic fashion, but even to your own ears, it sounded like a feeble pretext. “I’m really sorry for cutting this short, but I need to lie down... I’ll pay for dinner, don’t worry about it.”

“Nonsense,” he cut in right away, looking affronted you would dare to suggest such a thing. “You’re right, the food here isn’t that good anyways.”

“That wasn’t what I—”

“It was a pleasure dining with you tonight.” He wiped his lips with the white chiffon, his voice dropping to a seductive octave so suddenly you could only gape up at him. “Would you be interested in joining me for tea back in my loge?”

You froze, eyes subconsciously darting around, refusing to meet his unexpected suggestive gaze. To be frank, you might have been tempted by his offer for ‘tea’ before his failed attempt to wine and dine you. But after having suffered through two hours of his presence, your only wish was to never meet him again.

“Ah, um,” you floundered, looking for a way out. “I really don’t think I’m feeling too well… But thank you for the offer, Minwoo.”

“Minhyuk.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “It’s Minhyuk.”

“Mmh? That’s what I said,” you fibbed, averting your eyes and silently cursing yourself for your inattentiveness.

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole as it became apparent that no amount of apologies could salvage the situation. Guilt churned in the pit of your stomach, discomfiture rendering you rigid. Sure, Minhyuk or whatever had been a proper asshole but you still felt bad for forgetting his actual name. It had happened to you once before, back when you had first started dating, and you could still remember the bone-crushing humiliation and awkwardness as he had confused you with some other random girl. Back then, you had sworn never to subject anyone to the same situation, so for it to happen now... You were disappointed in yourself but there was really nothing you could do about it.

Needless to say, your mistake had made things painfully awkward between the two of you. His ego had taken an undeniable hit that no amount of apologies could probably fix. Minhyuk did not even bother to conceal his sigh of relief when you called for a taxi cab to drive you home. In any other situation, you might have been offended at how quickly he tried to get rid of you, but you were equally desperate to escape your date.

You didn’t miss Minhyuk in the slightest but for some reason your mind kept wandering back to your failed date at the most inconvenient times. Like a broken record, the memory of that night kept replaying in your mind on loop. He was like pesky fly you couldn’t shake off—a low buzzing in your ears distracting you from everyday activities.

Why were the men you dealt with such dickheads? You silently cursed your horrible luck with the male species as you spread butter over your toast, crunching into the slice of bread with more force than necessary, teeth clanking together.

You hadn’t expected dating to be so exhausting. Being with your ex for so long, you had fallen into a complacent routine of sorts; it had stopped being exciting, but at least it was comfortable and familiar. You knew each other’s likes and dislikes and would adjust accordingly to each other’s personalities. Restarting the entire getting-to-know you process just seemed way too bothersome to deal with. Maybe Minhyuk or whatever hadn’t been the right guy for you, but in all honesty you didn’t want to enter the dating pool at the moment.

What you needed was someone who was on the same wavelength as you—someone around your age that was only interested in having a good time. After the emotional rollercoaster you had previously been on, the last thing you wanted was to jump into another relationship. You told yourself there was no use rushing it. But just because you were giving up the idea of dating for the time being, didn’t mean having some occasional fun was prohibited.

Being single was a good thing.

Over the next couple of weeks, you kept repeating this phrase, hoping the mantra would convince you of its truth. Weren’t you supposed to be living your glory days right now? What was the point of settling down when you could be having stress-free fun whenever you wanted? Relationships just seemed like way too much work, especially when finding the right guy was a task in itself. Dating websites and blind dates set up by your friends just seemed like such a hassle you didn’t have the time to deal with... But honestly speaking, masturbating wasn’t as fulfilling as getting laid on the regular. That was one particular aspect of your old relationship that you missed. You didn’t need to be in a relationship to be happy and satisfied. But even though you technically didn’t need a functioning cock to get off, who were you to turn down a good fuck?

So the logical thing to do was to take a page out of the fuckboy manual and stock up on a giant box of condoms. It felt nice to flirt around when you knew you didn’t have to commit to anything. Guys were surprisingly easy to rile up and they all seemed desperate to prove their own worth. And although you had your doubts over the validity of their claims, you let yourself be convinced once or twice by their smooth and practiced lines. But every single time, the ending had been either anticlimactic or disastrously bad.

Youjin, a classmate you were friendly with, seemed to take pity on you when you recounted your latest attempt at hooking up. She had invited you over to her place for a round of consolation drinks and you had never been more eager to down a shot of alcohol in your life.

“He had a nervous jizz? Did you even get to see his dick before he creamed his jeans?” She patted your shoulder in sympathy before handing you another shot of tequila.

“Nope. Nothing. Couldn’t even tell you if he had hairy balls or not.” You shrugged, a nonchalant expression settling over your features. “I groped a feel before he, uh... creamed his jeans. Dunno. Kind of felt underwhelmed.”

“Size doesn’t matter.” Youjin reminded you with a nudge. “It’s how he works his machine that counts.”

“Machine?” You stifled a snort behind your hand. “Well, Jungkook’s engine failed him. I touched his dick over the jeans for maybe ten seconds? He didn’t even last long enough for me to take his belt off. I don’t know who was more embarrassed but he kicked me out of his room before I could really say anything.”

“Look on the bright side... Maybe this means you’re that good. You must have magic fucking fingers.” She wiggles her hands in your face, her sparkly manicured nails on display. “What made you think hooking up with someone in the same class as you was a good idea anyway? Isn’t this the basic rule of fucking... No shitting where you eat.”

“I don’t know... Convenience? He was there and it seemed like an easy fuck, you know? I just want a nice lay. And I thought I would have a good time! We’ve been texting for a while and he kept saying he would make it worth my time... You’re right, I shouldn’t have trusted him. He looks like he just grew out of puberty... I shouldn’t have trusted him.”

“Oh yeah, there’s no doubt you need to get dicked down. My doctor said good sex is one of the primary contributors to good health and inner happiness. But things will just get super messy if you keep hooking up with guys you see every day. What if Jungkook ended up your partner for next month’s presentation? Do you know how fucking awkward things get when you’re trying make a powerpoint presentation on rococo furniture with a guy who has had his mouth on your nips? I’ve been there, okay, and not only does it make you question all your life decisions, but it fucks up your grades. So it’s a lose-lose situation you’re better off without.”

Youjin’s solution to your problems was bringing you to the nearest night club. Her reasoning was that any guy you picked up there was also probably looking for a quick one night stand. In her books, club hookups were the easiest way to have a good time without resorting to fucking your classmate.

“Wear a slut skirt!” Out of reflex, you caught the article of clothing that flew your way. It was a short, leather piece that promised to mold to your every curve. “And pin your hair up—it looks really nice like that!”

“Calm down,” you huffed. “We’re just going to the club.”

“So? Who knows, you might find the love of your life tonight!”

“Let’s be realistic, the chance of that is slimmer than winning the lottery... “ You shimmied into the tight skirt, smoothing over any creases, silently admiring the way it made your ass look bigger than it usually did.

“Never say never. Did you know Nicole Richie met her husband in a club?”

“Who?”

“Nevermind, just put on the fucking skirt, okay? Hmm, do you want me to lend you my old push-up bra?”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” you deadpanned, your raised eyebrow twitching. She didn’t have to bring up the fact she had miraculously gotten a cup size bigger than you last summer. You looked down at your breasts with a frown, silently cursing. Why couldn’t the weight you gained go to your boobs?

In the end, you did borrow her padded push-up bra. You would have been a fool to turn down an instant breast lift offer. No one would know the difference anyway, not unless you let them paw at your boobs. And with your luck, an accidental grope on the dancefloor might be the most action you would get tonight.

The club Youjin brought you to was swarmed with college kids that were all looking to dance away the stress of the upcoming exam season. Leaving you to your own devices, she gave you a good luck pat on your shoulder before going off to order a martini at the bar.

It didn’t take long for someone to approach you but you shrugged them off, not interested in hooking up with freshman kids that probably just learned how to roll on a condom. If you were going to hookup with a fuckboy tonight, you wanted him to be the most experienced guy in the club.

You didn’t have to wait too long for someone to match your criteria to bump into you. He exuded a certain a charisma the other guys hadn’t, the dark of the room making his smooth skin look like molten gold.

“Your friend is gorgeous,” he yelled into your ear, one of his hands sliding down to rest on the small of your back. You had to lean forward until you could make out the words he was mouthing over the heavy bass; his breath smelled like whiskey and coke but not unpleasantly so.

From up close, you could see the way he eyed over Youjin dancing up a storm on the other side of the room, pearly white teeth biting his plump lower lip as his eyes lingered on her ass. You could hardly blame him—even you were entranced by the way she flipped her long, glossy hair and the smooth movements of her hips she synchronized in time with the beat of the music.

Youjin was the best dancer you knew. For the longest time she had tried to teach you how to slut drop but after many failed practice sessions in front of your bathroom mirror, she had signed you off as a lost cause. In your defense, you weren’t a terrible dancer... But next to her? You looked like a waddling penguin that was learning how to walk for the first time. Hence why you never had any luck pulling guys if you stuck by her side.

“Can you talk to her for me?”

Tilting your head, you contemplated his request. Neon green spots of light danced over his features, making his jaw look sharper than it probably was. He looked harmless enough, but it was hard to tell for sure...You would never judge someone by their face. Even if he looked like he was incapable of harming a fly, you weren’t duped into believing he had any innocent intentions behind his actions. After all, this was a night club filled to the brim with testosterone—a place for people to find an easy lay—so there was no room to misunderstand his question.

“Why can’t you ask her?” He was a grown ass man after all... You couldn’t understand why he didn’t just ask her himself. Playing the part of the messenger was just so tiresome—this wasn’t prom and you were too old for this kind of silly game.

He turned to look at you properly for the first time, the corners of his mouth already quirked up into a charming smile. Your gaze was instantly drawn to his plush lips, shiny and inviting. You tried to shake yourself out of your trance, eyes snapping back to meet his knowing stare, but he made nonchalance difficult. You had always had a weakness for soft, pouty lips. Certain he was the type of guy that would use that piece of information against you to get what he wanted, you fixed your gaze on a safer place—the shiny spot of skin between his eyebrows.

“Huh, you’re pretty too!” His mouth stretched into a smile, eyes slanting into crescents.

“Thanks,” you replied, dryly. Unfortunately, your sarcasm wasn’t conveyed properly and he seemed to take your words at face value. Thinking you had warmed up to him, he slid closer to you, the hand resting on your lower back pulling you flush against his hard chest.

He leaned in closer still, face crowding near yours, so you felt the warmth of his breath against the sensitive skin of your neck. For one drawn out moment, you thought he was going to lean in and kiss you, but instead he yelled into your ear, “say, if you ask your pretty friend for me, I’ll hook you up with my friend. You’re just his type!”

He pointed over to a guy with a plain white shirt and a black cap on, grinding into a girl’s ass a few steps away from you. You bit off a scoff, not believing what you were hearing. Did he really think you were willing for some kind of trade off? His friend wasn’t ugly in the least, but you still felt a bit offended for thinking you could be passed around.

“I’ll speak to my friend for you. You’re totally his type.”

There was no hiding your disbelief at his audacity. You risked a glace back in his direction to check if he was being completely serious, and you almost laughed out loud when you saw no trace of deception on his face. He must have been really interested in Youjin for him to beg you like this.

He was handsome enough that you were sure he wouldn’t have any trouble attracting other people, but he seemed fixated on your friend. If you hadn’t been slightly intoxicated, you would have told him straight away to deal with it on his own, but the alcohol burning in your veins made it harder to think properly.

“I don’t think he needs any help in that department!” You pointedly eyed his friend, who was still attached by the pelvis to his dancing partner.

“He’ll drop her for you, trust me.” His unwavering confidence made you falter, and he took advantage of your few seconds of shocked silence to call over his friend. You couldn’t believe he would actually leave the girl he was with just to join the both of you.

There was a slight pause as you both sized each other up. The first thing you noticed was that his simple white t-shirt was almost see through, made transparent by his sweat. Despite your better judgement, you found yourself eyeing his defined muscles that were perfectly displayed under the thin layer of fabric. When your eyes met his, he shot you a knowing wink, his abs flexing under the disco reflected light.

He was acting like your typical campus fuckboy. Guys like him were easy to figure out. You had frequented them enough to know they had a one-track mind and were programmed to function according to the eat-sleep-fuck cycle. He was your ideal candidate to take home because you knew he wasn’t looking for anything serious tonight.

“So, do you dance?”

“Not really...” He leaned in closer to hear your answer over the booming bass. He was close enough that you could smell his aftershave, the clean scent a welcomed reprieve from the sweat-infested room.

“It’s okay, I can teach you.” A hand fell to your waist to bring you closer still. Distantly, it registered just how fucking built he was. He looked like the type that had a gold gym membership just so he could walk around campus with sleeveless tops and show off his body to the student population.

Pressing his strong body against yours, he gripped your hips and guided your movements. The first guy long forgotten, you slowly relaxed under his hold, swiveling your hips in time to the beat. It was easy to let your mind drift off, your thoughts consumed by images of your dance partner fucking into you with the same fluidity he was showcasing now. He was a bit shorter than the men you usually went for, but his thick thighs and sensual grinding were winning you over. Besides, he moved his body like Magic Mike and that was something you weren’t about to pass up.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Youjin shoot you a thumbs-up, mouthing words that suspiciously looked like ‘get that dick’ but it was hard to tell for certain. Maybe she was right... One night stands like this were simpler to deal with than attempting to get into bed with your classmate. For one, you wouldn’t have to feel awkward every time you walked into class and made accidental eye-contact.

All you wanted was to get laid properly. Finding a fuck buddy was too much trouble and there was no guarantee that would be a success, either. In most cases you had heard of, one person always ended up catching feelings and that was an additional mess you didn’t have the time to take care of.

“Want to walk me home?” You asked coyly, eyelashes fluttering, your palms sliding up his chest seductively. His eyes darkened, mouth crashing into yours in response.

You didn’t even make it to the exit door, clearly too impatient and horny to wait until you reached a mattress. The entire thing was messy and rushed—teeth clanking against each other, swollen lips bitten red. You felt like a hormonal teenager all over again but you were too caught up in the moment to be embarrassed by your actions.

His large hands gripped your waist, and you had no choice but to follow his movements, shuffling backwards until your back met the dank wall of the bathroom stall.

“I want to see these pretty lips around my cock,” he groaned, hands slipping under the hem of your skirt to grab a handful of your ass. “I love it when girls get their lipstick all over me. S’fucking hot.”

“I’m not going to blow you.” You shook your head, trying to hold your ground despite his insistent kisses up the side of you neck. “No offense, but you look like I might catch something if I let you put your dick in any of my holes.”

If you hadn’t been inebriated you might have phrased it better. Whatever. You didn’t really care about his feelings when it was obvious all he wanted from you was to get his dick wet for a couple of seconds before busting a nut. Making out with him was already a big health hazard, you didn’t want to risk anything more by getting fucked in a smelly bathroom stall.

“Fine.” He shrugged like it was a common occurrence to have girls push him away because they were worried of him carrying diseases. “How ‘bout a handjob?”

You shrugged, not really objecting to the idea. Given the choice, you would have still preferred to give him the handjob with gloves on or something, but you figured you could forego the extra precaution just this once.

It didn’t go as smoothly as you expected to (although no bathroom hookups had ever been plain sailing in your personal experience). Your manicured nails made it hard to maneuver around in the cramped space; this became apparent when you awkwardly fumbled with the zipper of his jeans for a second too long. Huffing with impatience, he swatted your hand away, “here, let me.”

His dick, like the rest of his form, didn’t hurt to look at. Knowing your luck, you had half expected him to whip out a fungus covered penis, but to your relief it looked acceptably normal.

You spat into your hand, coating his length with firm strokes until he hardened completely under your touch.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his small hand coming up to cover your own to speed up your movements. “Yeah, just like that. Spit on it again, fuck.”

You obliged even though the entire thing was messy; his precum mixed with your spit helped your hand glide over his shaft in quick strokes. Slick sounds interlaced with heavy breathing filled the small bathroom stall. The obscene noises spiked up your level of arousal and you let out a dissatisfied whine to remind him to take care of you, too.

You jumped as you felt his hand creep up your flank, his slim fingers reaching for your bra. Belatedly, you realized he was about five seconds away from discovering the most padded bra made by man so you hurried to dissuade him.

“Not the boobs.” Your right hand paused mid-stroke so you could make sure he got the message. “They’re, uh, they’re sensitive right now.”

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes, instead shoving the same hand down the waistband of your skirt without any warning. His plump lips swallowed down your surprised squeal, a groan making its way into your mouth.

His fingers trailed the trims of lace on your underwear, hooking under the hem to trace over your heat. He didn’t waste any time, sinking his fingers into your wet center to curl inside, vainly trying to find your g-spot. His thumb traced over your bundle of nerves a little too roughly and you squeezed his length in response. The muscles in his arms flexed as he plunged his digits into your slick heat. You closed your eyes, trying to grow accustomed to his relentless ministrations.

“What the fuck?!”

“What?” The sheer disgust in his tone jolted you back to reality, your head banging into the wall with a dull sound. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

He brought up his hand so you could see the way his small fingers glistened with your juices and b—

“Couldn’t you have told me you were on your period before making me finger you?”

“Ummmmm.” Admittedly, you weren’t being very eloquent but it was difficult to gather your thoughts when there was fucking blood on his hand and under his nails. You were way too freaked out to think about this calmly. What the fuck. What the actual fuck. What the...

“It’s not my time of the month...” You frowned as he went to wipe off his hand with toilet paper. “I’m not due until another week and half. What the fuck...”

Now that there wasn’t a haze covering your vision, it was easier to analyze the situation logically. And without his fingers hammering away against your walls, it was easier to notice a sting near your sensitive skin. It was starting to dawn on you that the asswipe had actually fingered you too hard, making you bleed. You were about to screech in horror but he continued on, interrupting your inner screaming.

“Yeah, right. There was fucking blood! I know I’ve had a few drinks but look!” He waved around the soiled toilet paper to prove his point, ignoring the way you coiled away in revulsion. “You’re disgusting.”

You couldn’t believe the actual nerve of this shithead. Incensed, you had a hard time keeping your voice down, wanting nothing more than to shove his head into the disgusting toilet bowl to shut him up.

“I don’t have my period! You’re the one who tried to claw out my vagina!” Inwardly, you seethed. “Get the fuck out of here while I’m still being nice.”

“Whatever.”

You sent a text to Youjin informing her you would take a taxi cab home. The night was coming to a premature end but you were too angry to go find someone else to take home. You weren’t in the right mind to trust anyone else with your vagina at the moment, not when it was apparently in danger of being clawed out.

youjin [01:13 am] homerun? ;)

She was so far from the truth that it was actually kind of sad... You were starting to think you were cursed. Why was it this troublesome to find someone who would give you a satisfying experience? Why were the guys you met so inadequate?

All of your experiences were getting progressively worse and you weren’t sure what to blame your bad luck on. You weren’t a bad person... You paid your all of your bills and picked up your dog’s poo when you took him out for a walk. Why was karma being a petty bitch and fucking you over?

At your return, your roommate raised an inquisitive eyebrow, eyeing your disheveled form in concern. Upon noticing your despondent expression, she nodded in understanding. “Was it really that bad?”

“I mean… It could have been... worse. Oh, who am I kidding, it was fucking awful." You cringed, catching your refection in the mirror overhanging the foyer. The corner of your eyes were smudged with kohl and your hair looked like a greasy mess. “Shit, I look like a wreck. Let me shower, yeah? I smell like piss and beer."

You needed to wipe down the gross layer of sweat that covered your body and check your vagina for any irrevocable damage. Thankfully, after a quick inspection, everything seemed to be okay and functioning properly but you still couldn’t trust Thomas or whatever his name was. You spent ten minutes cleaning your hands with soap, scrubbing every possible surface to make sure you weren’t going to catch anything else.

What you needed was a full body cleanse. You flinched as your toes made contact with the cold tiles, hands blindly reaching for the shower knob. Ice cold water rained down your back but you clenched your jaw and endured it, hoping it would distract you from the worries plaguing your mind.

Soon enough, steam enveloped you, heat soaking into your skin, muscles slowly unwinding. However, it became apparent that the comforting spray of water wasn’t enough to dispel any of your concerns.

Honestly, what was the use of having a nice dick if you couldn't use it properly? Why would men boast about their skills when it was obvious they didn't give two flying fucks about their partner's sexual pleasure? Why were men so selfish? You weren't even asking for much... Was one orgasm really too much to ask for?

"Men are gross," you whispered to yourself bitterly, reaching for the peach scented body wash. Perhaps it was time to finally invest in a nice vibrator, because if your recent experiences were anything to go by, you wouldn’t be getting off any time soon.

You didn’t even have it in you to be angry. The frustration over your lack of success had slowly ebbed away and left only room for doubt—doubt in yourself and your ability to not attract assholes. There are so many men out there; you refused to believe they were all one and the same. Still, your experiences so far had proved you otherwise and your optimism was beginning to dwindle.

After making sure you were completely clean, you wandered off to the living room, wrapped in your fluffy bathrobe. You flopped down on the couch, your dripping hair making a mess on the furniture.

“I’m cursed,” you bemoaned, words muffled because you had face planted into the cushions. “Dicks hate me.”

“Why are you always so dramatic?” your roommate scoffed, not even bothering to sound sympathetic, attention focused on a rerun of Project Runway.

“I’m serious.” You sat back up, attaching your hair so it would stop soaking the back of your nightshirt. “I think men are allergic to me.”

You recounted all of your failed encounters, not leaving out that one time a guy had ‘accidentally’ rimmed you while trying to eat you out. What a nightmare. You still got full body shivers whenever you remembered that horrific experience. At the end of your heated monologue, you couldn’t help but get a little emotional, lamenting your string of failures.

“Listen to me... Let’s get one thing straight—you are not the problem. All those guys were self-centered assholes who thought they were hot shit. Not everyone is like that, you know. Are you seriously going to give up on dick because of a few bad experiences?”

“I’m not interested in dating,” you insisted, ignoring her. “But I never said I wasn’t interested in dick. I just... want one that knows what it's doing. Does that make sense? I don’t want to have to deal with period scares or guys that try to sneak in a bit of butt action when you’re distracted."

“Oh?” She visibly perked up at your words, trying to assess how serious you were being. "You know... There's an app for that."

"I've tried dating websites... But it's exhausting, and I'm not ready for any emotional inv—"

"Not that," she cut in impatiently, reaching for her purse and rummaging inside.

“A sex toy seems like the better option.” You pointed out, reluctantly giving into the idea. “I don’t really like the feel of silicone but—”

After a few taps on her phone and a triumphant “hmmfph” sound, she thrust her device in your face. It took a few short seconds for the screen to come into focus; the proximity nearly made you go cross-eyed.

“Dick n’ Go?" Doubt seeped through your words. "Why does this sound like a bad porn movie? How does this even work...” You trailed off, not convinced by her idea in the slightest. It was hard to trust someone who liked to put cucumber slices in the water pitcher just because ‘it looked aesthetic’.

“It’s like the upgraded, safer version of Tinder. You’re guaranteed to land someone who knows what he’s doing. Trust me... If Stevie and I hadn’t gotten back together, I’d probably still be using Dick n’ Go all the time. This is the best invention of the 21st century. Everyone should be using this!”

You looked down at the her phone suspiciously. How did she expect you do jump onto the Dick n’ Go bandwagon when it had such a terrible name...

“Just give it a try!” she persisted, nudging you with her elbow. “No offense, but it can't get any worse."

“Okay,” you relented. “But only this once! And if this fails, then I’ll just accept my fate.”

You waited for the app to download on your own phone, inwardly cringing at the phallic illustration used as the logo.

Glancing over the questionnaire, you filled out the form with the requested details. The beginning seemed fairly normal—requiring your basic information such as your name and age. You didn’t think much of it, but as you slowly made your way through the rest of the questions, worry and heavy doubt started to sink in.

Calling your friend over, you motioned at the screen in front of you. “Why are they asking me the penis size I prefer? Is this some kind of joke...”

Your friend’s manic cackling did nothing to soothe your growing apprehension. “I’m telling you, this app is fucking genius. Revolutionary. Just take it seriously for now… You’ll see. You really won’t regret it.”

You considered her advice and figured it wouldn’t hurt to try, even if the application method was a bit…weird and unconventional. Signing up didn’t implicate commitment of any kind, so you could always back down if things didn’t work out.

Once you finished completing all the necessary information and choosing a nice picture of yourself (cleavage included), your nerves started getting the best of you. A strange feeling seized you right then—a premonition of sorts.

As the first picture loaded onto your screen, you almost dropped your phone in shock. After the initial surprise had worn off, your attention focused back onto the first person’s profile. Instead of being greeted with a flattering picture of his face, a large, limp dick hanging between a pair of sturdy thighs showed up.

The format reminded you a bit of tinder but as you flicked through the different profiles, it became apparent that every possible match had pictures of their dicks instead of the usual bathroom selfie or cute snaps of them out with their dog.

“Some of this is a bit…” You faltered, shooting your friend another dubious glance. “Are you sure this is okay? Why do they have listed ‘vigorous humping’ as an option?”

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Personally, I like the ones who are good at ‘powerful thwacking’ but to each their own.”

You pretended like you hadn’t heard her last comment, thumb still flicking through the dick pics. It was your first time seeing so many penises at once and to say you were overwhelmed wasn’t an exaggeration.

“Why would anyone agree to this? Isn’t it a bit... How can they be okay with strangers judging them off their dicks alone?”

“That’s because there’s nothing that strokes a guy’s ego more than a dick compliment. You see the stars next to their names? You have to evaluate their performance after you take a ride. You think guys who are shit in bed would sign up on this app? Their puny egos wouldn’t be able to handle getting zero stars.”

You figured it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.. Especially if mutual satisfaction was 100% guaranteed. Trying to find the best rated dick took a bit longer than expected, but you finally landed on a profile that seemed more than acceptable. Not only did he have a good reputation but the dick was actually nice to look at.

you [03:01 am] is that a fake dick

Granted, it probably was not the best conversation starter, but you weren’t exactly a dick dating expert. In your defense, how were you supposed to start a normal conversation when the only information you had about your partner was how well endowed he was? No matter how you looked at the situation, it felt like you were having a conversation with an actual dick.

Feeling embarrassed, you turn off your phone. The app seemed a little too ridiculous for your tastes and the next day you had already forgotten all about it. Too busy nursing a hangover and tending to your aching vagina, you didn’t give Dick n’ Go any second thoughts until a message pinged in during the night as you were getting ready for bed.

jin [11:12 pm] 100% real lol

jin [11:12 pm] why? afraid you can’t handle it

At his speedy answer, you could only scoff, fingers suspended over your keyboard as you debated whether or not to humor him. He sounded like just another campus fuckboy, way too overconfident in his own skills, when the reality was probably very far from his claims. The recent events had made you even more wary of guys who bragged too much because their actions never lived up to the expectations they had built.

But the five gold stars next to his name seemed to be winking at you, teasing you further. You hadn’t come across any profile with over three stars, so the full marks did pique your curiosity. Despite your better judgement, you wanted to know if he was really as good as his description suggested... Didn’t five stars imply he was the closest thing to a Sex God? You tried to imagine being with someone who never received complaints in the bedroom but everything just seemed too unbelievable to take seriously. Instead of feeling intimidated by his reputation, doubt clouded your thoughts. Surely someone couldn’t be that good. Right?

Yet, for some inexplicable reason, you chose to continue the conversation. There was no harm in humoring him for a bit longer, you convinced yourself. But just as you started typing out a response, you backtracked, realizing how foolish you were acting.

you [11:14 pm] i can handle anything just fine

you [11:14 pm] ur way too full of yourself...

There. Hopefully that would be the end of that, and he would leave you alone now.

You didn’t even know why you had agreed to do this; clearly, this arrangement was full of obnoxious men with over-inflated egos. Still, somewhere deep down, curiosity gnawed at your insides. The big “What If” lingered in the back of your mind as you stared at the darkened screen of your phone full of expectation.

jin [11:17 pm] you’re the one who talks big.. you think you can handle what i give you? hha

jin [11:18 pm] it’s ok..

jin [11:18 pm] it’s cute that you think you can

you [11:20 pm] seems like u’ve got me all figured out

you [11:21 pm] we’ll see who is right

At first, you chose to indulge him just because it was entertaining. But the more messages were exchanged, a strange thrill buzzed through your body as you anticipated his replies.

Once, you had made the grave mistake of opening an incoming picture in the middle of a lecture, only to be greeted with the image of his erect length, pink and shiny with precum. Thankfully, no one had seemed to notice Jin’s dick, but you had been ready to crawl out of the lecture hall in embarrassment. And not because someone might have seen Jin’s impressive erection. You didn’t really care about that. What you would have a hard time admitting was that a single picture had gotten you so worked up, concentrating in class had become impossible.

Jin—that arrogant prick—had somehow known how affected he had made you. Since then, he hadn’t hesitated to tease you further over the next few days with various pictures of his dick. Now, you never knew what kind of image you would be met with. It could be anything from a tame picture of his jean clad covered bulge to a short five second video of his hand stroking his shaft, his thumb swiping the tip to collect a bead of precum. Once, he had even had the audacity to moan your name right before he came, white dripping out of his spent member.

No one could blame you for being wary whenever you opened his messages. But in the safety of your own room, you allowed yourself to open his latest message. In all honesty, you had waited all day to finally be able to view the sent picture in privacy. You clicked on the image, enlarging it so that it lit up your screen. Without conscious thought, your lips parted in surprise.

The first thought to cross your mind was 'what the heck... he could at least try to make his catfishing believable'. His face defied the norm... With perfectly symmetrical features, your eyes didn’t know where to focus its gaze. You took a moment to stare at his plush lips before snapping out of it, typing out a furious response, fingers moving so quickly you had to backtrack to correct your typos.

you [11:54 pm] r u kidding me??

you [11:54 pm] send me your real face ;(

jin [11:54 pm] what makes you think i'm not? lol

you [11:55 pm] no normal person looks good in the bj angle!!

jin [11:57 pm] the bj angle? lmao

You paused as the three gray dots appeared on your screen once more. He left you no time to answer back; the short buzzes against your palm signaled the onslaught of incoming messages that arrived one right after the other, illuminating the dark of your room.

jin [11:58 pm] you'll have to get used to it

jin [11:58 pm] i like eye contact when i get head

jin [11:58 pm] you're imagining it right now arent u? ha

jin [11:58 pm] are you wet

There was something amusing about his overflowing confidence. You weren’t sold quite yet, but there was no harm in continuing the conversation.

you [11:59 pm] u really think you can get me wet over text??

you [11:59 pm] you'll have to work harder for that

jin [11:59 pm] mmh i like a challenge

jin [12:00 am] but it's okay to admit it too

jin [12:00 am] i won't judge

Now that you knew what he claimed to look like, the entire thing became a little less ridiculous and a bit more real. You weren’t just talking to a faceless, talking dick... There was an actual person attached to it. Said person just happened to be abnormally handsome...

It would be incredibly stupid of you to believe him. But his account was verified. That had to count for something, right? You were about to type out a response when he continued on.

jin [12:01 am] in fact

jin [12:02 am] i like it better that way, when i get you to admit you're hungry for dick

you [12:04 am] i'm not... so good luck with that

Instantly, you regretted not responding with something more witty. Your words sounded hollow and unconvincing. He probably knew as well as you did that you were interested. Why else would you keep messaging him after this long? He was the only one you talked to on the app, the only who truly caught your attention and curiosity.

Gnawing your bottom lip between your teeth, you wondered what he would answer. For a fleeting second, you wondered where all of this would take you... It was easier to imagine yourself actually going through with all of this now that you had a face to match to his name.

jin [12:06 am] i think you are

jin [12:06 am] why else would you join dng? you need a nice dick to satisfy you

jin [12:07 am] you love cock

Your mouth dropped open as you read over the latest messages. The words bothered you because deep down you knew he was right. You were a thirsty slut who wanted a good dicking down. But he didn’t have to be so crude about it... Although maybe etiquette didn’t matter when you were part of an app called Dick n’ Go.

you [12:09 am] ur right..

you [12:10 am] i love cock

you [12:10 am] but only one that knows what it’s doing

jin [12:11 am] sounds like a challenge

jin [12:12 am] i don’t have 5 fucking stars for nothing ;-)

Maybe agreeing to setting up an arrangement was a bad idea. In all honesty, you had been very unsure about everything. During the nights leading up to this day, you had doubted your choice many times but Jin had never failed to reassure you. He reminded you that you were free to cancel anytime or step away from the entire thing.

The thing was... You weren’t worried that it would somehow go terribly wrong. Your real worry was that you would never be able to go back to your normal hookups after this. How were you ever supposed to be the same again? Jin was reputed to be a sex god. Going from horrible fucks to the best fuck of your entire life was too steep a jump and you weren’t sure you were ready for it.

Your worries weren’t unfounded.

The first thought to cross your mind was “how the fuck is someone like him real?”. Now, you had seen your fair share of handsome men in your life, but he really took the cake. Equipped with symmetrical features, doe eyes and the softest looking pair of plump lips, you had a hard time believing a face like his truly existed. You blinked quickly, trying to pull your attention away from his draw-dropping face, only for your attention to fall on his shoulders.

How the heck could someone’s shoulders be so broad?! He looked like he could carry two people on each side and still have room for more. You were glad he wasn’t gifted with the ability to read minds. He might have been put off by the amount of internal screaming that was currently taking place, and the last thing you wanted was for him to run away.

“Not what you were expecting?” he chuckled.

“I, um,” you stuttered, not sure what to do with yourself all of a sudden. For some ridiculous reason, you felt your pulse race as his gaze perused your form.

Snapping yourself out of your mindless reverie, you tried your best to appear unaffected when he took off his hoodie. The thin cotton shirt underneath hugged his body tightly, showcasing his broad shoulders and rippling back muscles. You wanted to swim on his back. Or let him backstroke on your body... Really, you weren’t a difficult person; you welcomed either option.

“I look good, don’t I.” The way he delivered the phrase showed he didn’t expect an answer, the corners of his lips already curled into a haughty smirk.

His confidence made you narrow your eyes in response. The sight reminded you of all the fuckboys you had encountered in the past few weeks. They always bragged and boasted, their words fueled by the same excessive confidence. It always started out the same way—with empty promises and self-praise—but this time you weren’t going to let yourself be fooled. You didn’t care if Jin was the most handsome human being your eyes had every laid eyes upon. The point of this entire arrangement was for you to get an earth shattering orgasm and you weren’t going to settle for anything less than spectacular. He was rated five stars on his profile for a reason—now was the time to prove it.

“Listen, Jin,” you said with faux sweetness coating your words. “It doesn’t matter what you look like... Looks don’t matter if you’re going to end up leaving me unsatisfied. So don’t think, even for a second, that you can roll over, let me do all the work and then leave me high and dry.”

“Unsatisfied?” He parroted, brow furrowing like he had no idea what the word meant. “Sounds like you’ve never been with a real man before.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong on that front but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know he was right. The last thing he needed was an ego boosting.

“You talk too much...” Scoffing, you crossed your arms to showcase your annoyance. “Guys like you usually don’t even know where to find my clit. It’s sad. You really shouldn’t build up expectations like that, only to disappoint when it’s time to get your dick wet.”

An offended squawk escaped his plump lips. “Hey now. First of all, unless your pussy is a jungle down there, you can rest assured finding your clit won’t be an Easter egg hunt. Who do you think I am?”

He ignored the mild look of indignation that crossed over your features. Instead, he took a seat on the queen-sized bed, his legs falling open invitingly. With difficulty, you kept your eyes trained on his face even though they itched to wander down.

“Come sit on Daddy’s lap.”

“Fuck, no,” you grumbled at once, ignoring the way his gruff tone shot arousal through your stomach. “I’m not calling you Daddy or Papi or whatever else you’re probably into.”

He shrugged, otherwise not budging an inch. He looked at you expectantly, confident that you would give in. “If you want to cum tonight like a good girl, then I suggest you take a seat.” He patted his thighs for emphasis, your eyes immediately drawn to the enticing bulge that was nicely showcased in his tight jeans.

That arrogant fucker did look good, you admitted inwardly, scowling slightly as you did so.

You sat down gingerly, trying to keep your composure in check. The ever-permanent smirk on his face revealed he hadn’t missed your audible gulp when you made contact with his strong thighs.

“So far, I’m pretty unimpressed...” You lied, shifting around on his lap just you could feel how comfortable your makeshift seat was.

His fingers twitched at your side, his nails scratching your exposed skin and sending tingles down your spine. “Maybe you’re so accustomed to messy and drunken college fucks that your expectations are a bit skewed. You know... Just because you’ve had sex a handful of times doesn’t mean you’re experienced.”

He chuckled, the low sound rumbling in his chest. You tried to ignore the way the vibrations made goosebumps prickle the surface of your skin, doing your best to keep the most indifferent expression on your face.

“Did you think that just because we decided to meet up today, you’d get your orgasm handed to you on a silver platter? I don’t think so, babygirl.” He shook his head in amusement.

Momentarily distracted by the unexpected petname, it took a bit longer than usual for words to form on your tongue.

“Then what—”

“You’re not getting my cock until I know you want it.”

“I don’t think I would be here if I didn’t,” you shot back, your patience slowly running out. You weren’t known for being the most forbearing person. But then you were suddenly struck down by something your roommate had said—something about how getting a dick compliment was the same thing as Christmas day coming early. Did he really expect you to beg for his dick? That wasn’t so different from the fuckboys you were used to. Really, all guys were so similar. They all wanted to be told they were the best before getting to cum.

Jin must have taken notice of your mildly revolted expression because he gave your ass a squeeze.

“You’re so spoiled...” He chastised, clucking his tongue like he was scolding a child. “You’re too used to fucks that last five minutes on a good day... No wonder you’re so irritable. Hmmm... Do you know what I usually do with little girls like you?”

Little? He couldn’t have been that much older than you... You rolled your eyes only for them to blow open, not expecting the stinging smack on your left asscheek. The force of the swat made you jolt forward, the denim of your shorts rubbing against your clit, sending small zaps of pleasure down your spine.

“Let me guess... You punish them,” you glowered.

“Punishment?” Jin hums in contemplation, his large hand rubbing the place where he had hit you, soothing away the ache. “That’s not what I would call it.”

He leaned in close so that his breath ghosted over the sensitive skin of your ear, “listen closely. I’m not going to feed you my cock until I see you drooling for it.”

You bit your lower lip, trying to gauge how serious he was being. There was no denying you wanted him to fuck you, but you weren’t sure you could handle whatever he had in store for you.

Jin’s features softened, seemingly sensing your hesitancy. “It’s okay... Just follow my lead. I’ll make you feel good, okay? You just have to prove that you want this as much as I suspect you do.”

“And how do— I mean, what do...” You stammered, genuinely at a loss for words. The guys you were usually with would have already stripped out of their jeans, but Jin looked like he wasn’t going to move an inch.

“You’re really tense, babygirl.” Jin massaged your neck, his thumbs rubbing out the tense muscles in soft circles. You felt yourself turn limp and pliant in his lap, head drooping down as he worked out the kinks in your neck. “That’s it, just relax for me. Are you ready to be a good girl now?”

You nodded mutely, letting his soothing voice guide you. Something about his voice made you trust him; you felt confident he wouldn’t let you down. One of his hands tilted your head down so he could slant his plush lips against yours. Immediately, you melted against his mouth, the softness of his lips silently inviting you to press into them. But despite your most fervent efforts, his kisses stayed languid, refusing to match your pace. Frustrated, you moved in closer, molding your body against his, your fingers carding through the hairs at his nape. To your dismay, he pulled back, a satisfied look covering his features.

“See? This is a good start. Keep moving your hips like that.”

With a start, you realized you had been grinding desperate little circles into his lap, your hips searching for much needed friction.

“J-Jin.” Your words came out as a soft plea, your gaze hooded with desire.

“Do you need a little help?” He smiled at you sweetly, taking pleasure in seeing you slowly fall apart at the seams.

His hands slid up under the hem of your shorts, squeezing the flesh and urging you to continue the smooth rocking movements. With every undulation, you felt your arousal grow until your entire body was consumed with pure, unbridled need. The slow burn was different from what you were usually used to but not in a bad way. You were slowly losing your mind, your hips moving more and more frantically as you tried to rub the burning ache away.

Jin pinched your ass, effectively stopping your movements before you could get too carried away. The sharp bite went straight to your core, the ball of arousal in the pit of your stomach coiling tightly. You were distinctly aware how your damp panties were stuck to your folds and how wetness dripped down your thigh—proof of your rampant desire Jin had coaxed to life.

“If we took your shorts off right now and continued, you would make a mess of my jeans, wouldn’t you?”

Jin slapped your ass again as he waited for you to answer him.

“Y-yes! I’d make a mess all over you.” Trying to ignore the heat that bloomed on your cheeks, you stuttered out your reply.

“And why is that? Hm?” He remained still, his hands unmoving at your side, patiently awaiting your response. The answer he expected was clear to you but for some reason the words wouldn’t come out—stuck in your throat.

You gasped, your hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders. He was bouncing his leg up, making you lurch forward with every jerk of his knee. Every time you slammed back down, the pressure on your clit increased tenfold and your eyes became glassy as pleasure inflamed your insides.

“Oh g-god, fuck, I—”

“Why are you such a mess for my cock, huh? Why do you think you got so worked up easily? I didn’t even have to do much and you’ve become putty in my hands.” He maneuvered your body around so that you brushed up against his covered erection. Soft whines and mewls escaped your lips when he pushed your hips down further against him. It was hard to fathom why he wouldn’t just fuck you already and extinguish the throb between your thighs.

“I don’t know. I’m not— I just...” You inhaled deeply, trying to lift the haze of lust that muddled your thoughts. “Please, can I have your cock now? I’ve been good.”

“Hmm... But that’s not what I want to hear, is it? Do you remember what I told you over text?” You blinked slowly, your mind drawing a blank at his question. How did he expect you to answer such a vague question? “No? Well, let me refresh your memory. I recall you saying that you weren’t cock hungry, but I think we both know that’s not true, is it?”

There was a pause of silence as you tried to weigh the pros and the cons. At the end of the day, he wasn’t wrong. But it was embarrassing to admit it out loud.

“Fine, I’m cock hungry. I love cock. Can we fuck now?” you huffed out, refusing to meet his smug stare.

“Hm. Somehow I had imagined it sounding a lot sexier when you said it...” The space between his brows creased as slight disappointment marred his features.

“Life isn’t a porn movie, Jin.”

“We met through an app called Dick n’ Go,” he quipped back, rolling his eyes. “It was worth a shot.”

With surprising strength, he lifted you up by the waist before setting you down on the bed. Instantly, you missed being pressed up against the hard planes of his body and having his large hands holding you closer to him. The pale blue cotton sheets creased under your weight as you shimmied backwards.

“Clothes off.”

His tone made you shudder with anticipation. You could tell he was done with foreplay for now; the obvious bulge in his jeans reminding you he was probably equally affected as you. His eyes were dark, hunger etched onto every part of his expression. You scooted back on the bed until your back met the headboard, your hands busy with ridding yourself of your garments.

Jin, on the other hand, took his sweet time taking off his belt; the metal clink echoed in the silence of the room, shooting shivers down your back. Your want for him was almost palpable—you could feel the desire sit heavy on your tongue. His gaze never left your exposed body, trailing over the slim column of your neck, the curves of your waist and your rosy nipples. You smirked, letting your legs fall open so he could sneak a peak at your glistening core. He swallowed thickly, peeling off his shirt and kicking away his jeans, too aroused to care about composure anymore. Every man had their own limits and you were glad Jin was reaching his if that meant he would finally stop playing around.

As he crawled onto the bed, you expected him to start fucking you right away but instead he dove headfirst between your legs.

“Jin, what are—” But he kept your legs wide open with a steady grip on your thighs, ignoring your weak cries of protest. He went straight to work, his tongue taking an experimental lick before pressing more insistently against your folds, deftly avoiding your clit. Any disapproval promptly died in your throat, your body succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure he gave you.

You had been worried he would slobber everywhere and maybe try to lick down lower like your previous experiences, but his tongue movements stayed consistent and languid. He seemed to know exactly how to move, how much you could take. Any coherent thought was wiped out with every skillful swirl and swipe of his tongue against your slick center. Your mewls of pleasure became progressively louder as your body succumbed to his insistent licks.

Threading your fingers through his soft locks, you attempted to bring his face closer to your core. Need pulsed through your veins as you wriggled around, canting your hips in time with the swipes of his tongue. Eventually, everything within you snapped. The intensity of your orgasm took you by surprise, not expecting the strength of the pleasure as it crashed over you over and over again. Your toes curled and your back arched, every one of your muscles tensing as the orgasm took hold of you.

Slowly, you came back to reality. Blinking away white spots from your vision, you tensed up again when your eyes landed on Jin’s satisfied expression. He looked absolutely sinful—his hair messy from your tugging, his face wet from your arousal.

“Good?” Jin asked, licking his lips dry, his chin still shiny from your wetness.

“Mmh.” You nodded, too fucked out to give a more intelligible reply. Your limbs felt heavy, your tongue too big for your mouth. But there was no denying the glorious satisfaction that settled deep in your core. “Fuck me now?”

“You’re insatiable,” he scolded lightly. It was hard to take him seriously when his eyes gleamed with something close to endearment. Still, despite his words, he wasted no time lining up his erection with your waiting center.

You took a moment to appreciate how utterly gorgeous he was. When you looked at Jin, you knew you were looking at a man. His forehead shined with a sheen of sweat, his chin still wet from your juices. And his fucking shoulders. You had never really paid attention to other people’s shoulders before, but you somehow knew that no one else’s shoulders could ever compare to Jin’s.

“Ah, fuck,” he grunted above you, frowning slightly as he eased himself in slowly. “You’re so wet, I’m sliding right in.”

You bit your lip, trying to remember how to breathe. It was hard to accommodate his impressive girth, but the stretch felt so good you couldn’t help but let out a long moan. Jin slowly thrust the rest of his length in, one of his hands gliding over your smooth thigh only to hike it up over his hip. He kept his grip steady before pushing back into you, drawing out another pleased sound from your lips as he reached impossibly deeper within you.

“Look,” he grinned between heavy pants. Wiping the side of your mouth with his thumb, he wiped your spit over your cheek. “I told you. You’re drooling all over yourself because of my cock. Cute.”

If you had been more self-possessed you would have rolled your eyes and shot back a witty remark. But at the moment, you were having a hard enough time remembering your own name... Every fluid roll of his hips into yours rubbed the insides of your walls deliciously, your walls clenching around him as you neared your release. You couldn’t believe you were already so close to crumbling apart again, not when it usually took so much effort to get you off.

“Are you gonna cum already? Mmh fuck, good girl. Make a mess of the sheets and then I’ll feed you my cock like I promised.” He picked up the pace of his thrusts, intent on making you fall apart one more time. Jin reached down to circle down on your clit with precision, timing the swipes of his fingers with the rhythm of his hips. The rapid flicks against your sensitive spots felt too good; you couldn’t help but grind into his touch for more friction.

You shook and moaned, pleasure striking down upon you without any warning. A cry of ecstasy fell from your lips, your nails scratching down his back as you tried to ground yourself to reality. Jin groaned loudly as your walls clamped down around him, squeezing out his own orgasm. Feeling him cum in spurts inside you made a shudder ripple through you, prolonging your high. You felt like you were floating; your limp and spent body still vibrating from the aftershocks. Every limb was thrumming with pleasure.

Jin rolled over next to you, his chest rising and falling from the exertion. His hair was matted with sweat, his body cloaked in a thin layer of perspiration. But as you eyed the pink flush on his cheeks, you inwardly admitted that he was probably the most handsome person you had met in your life.

But not only was he devastatingly handsome, but he had given you the fuck of your life. Instead of the usual fast-paced hammering you had been previously subjected to, Jin had taken his time and built your orgasm brick by brick. It was difficult to accept guys like him actually existed in this world...

“If you want seconds, you just have to ask.” He caught your gaze mid-appraisal, a cocky smirk settling on his lips.

“You just came.”

“My refractory period is quite short, actually. And I can usually last a lot longer my second time.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, his hand already sliding down to play with your dripping center. You shied away from his touch, still too sensitive.

Well, of course he would have the stamina of a pornstar... This guy was just too good to be true. You half-expected to be woken up from a very lucid dream and be brought back to the cold, harsh reality. Guys like Jin were a rarity. And after tonight, you probably would never meet him again. You would only be left with a distant memory and new standards that would be impossible to meet.

Regret churned in your gut. What was done was done. You tried to focus on the positive side of things... You did just have a mind-blowing orgasm. That was something you ought to be celebrating and not moping about.

“It’s okay, I can go get you cleaned up right now. We can go for a round two next time.” Your eyelids felt heavy but you smiled at him in thanks when he got up to get a wet towel for you.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep but when you woke up, the morning sunlight filtered through the sheer drapes. Basking under the warm rays of light, you stretched out your sore muscles.

Last night had been a dream, hadn’t it? The space next to you on the bed was disappointingly empty and void. Maybe you had just dreamed everything up, after all... Releasing a sigh, you slowly got up, hand reaching over the bedside table to check the time on your phone. Frowning, you rubbed the sleepiness from your eyes, fingers wrapping around a slip of paper after fumbling around blindly.

It took a moment for your vision to sharpen into focus but when it did, a lazy smile pulled at the corners of your lips. Next to a scrawled phone number was signed off ‘call me for round two xx your favorite five star dick guy’. And, well, who were you to turn down a good fuck?

#happy birthday mommy wonka;;#accept the seokjin di cc aka the greatest gift of them all #bangtanwriters-net #kkreationsnet #kwriterskollection #bts smut #bts scenarios #seokjin scenarios #seokjin smut #kpop scenarios #i need to go back and edit the last scene but yay :'')

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adventuresineurope2017 · 7 years

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Recollections of Croatia

First stop Dubrovnik. We encountered insane traffic! Thank goodness for our taxi driver, who found us our accommodation, then dropped us off a short way from the old city. We were assaulted by heat, tourists, extortionist prices, and general mayhem. So in short, we were over the place pretty quickly. We found the old city similar to Kotor, but with a completely different feel, the place is very commercialised, and basically, ruined by the hordes of tourists, who mainly come from the many cruise ships that visit there daily. And they rip you off-you get charged for everything. To walk around the walls-one of the main attractions, you have to pay about $45 each! Yeah, right. Anyhow, we did the best we could, and left after a few hours, catching a bus back to our BnB to recover. They also don't accept euro in Croatia either, so we are back to changing money again. I thought eu stood for "common" market? And if you so find somewhere that accepts euro, you pay 1.5 times the going exchange rate. So for the next couple of weeks we are using kuna :(

We rose early to catch our 3 hour ferry to Hvar, and really like it here-much more chilled. We moseyed round the city, and climbed up to the old fort, which was well worth the visit. It includes its own macabre dungeon, deep into the rock. You can see from the below pic how tiny the cells were. We had a picnic lunch overlooking the old town before winding our way down to do some more exploring. Next task was to find our accomodation, which unfortunately is located on the top of a hill! Laden with backpack we started the ascent, only to get briefly lost. We eventually found the place and its pretty nice. Back into the city for a glass of wine and a delicious meal of sea bass and grilled vegetables. Our starter was a “Kapitan's Platter"- bread and a sampling of tuna pate, grilled octopus, cured salmon, pickled onion under anchovies and sardines, some delicately prepared soft shrimps which were amazing. It was a lovely start to the meal. We chose a restaurant overlooking the harbour, with boats coming and going nineteen to the dozen.

Today, Sunday, we did adventure sport - hired a scooter and went buzzing over the rugged mountain interior of the island to Stari Grad-home to Tvrdalj castle - built by a poet, Petar Hektorovic, in the 16th century. During the that century, the island of Hvar came under attack from the ottoman Turks. Hektorović, one of the local nobles, undertook to fortify his house so that it could act as shelter for the local citizens.

Tvrdalj is a well-preserved Renaissance building, with a long closed facade on the seaward side, to protect it from attack. The interior courtyard contains a sea-water fishpool, enclosed by a vaulted and arcaded terrace. Next to it is a tower with a dovecote. The living quarters, together with the servant quarters, and several wells, are arranged around the pool. Behind the main buildings is a walled garden where Hektorović cultivated herbs and medicinal plants. A series of inscriptions are set into walls of the mansion in Latin and Croatian. Those in Croatian are considered to be some of the oldest extant. The castle boasted one of the first indoor toilets in the whole of Europe..

We had a picnic lunch in the garden.

The island is a massive rocky outcrop, really. Over the centuries the locals have cleared patches of land, some just the size of a large room. They pile the cleared rocks to form walls. Big walls, you have never seen so many rocks. They form a loosely formed patchwork up and down the steep hillsides in between the cleared plots. In these, they grow olives, lavender, vines and probably other crops in the meagre soil. The views on our drive consisted of horizon hugging sea, steep mountains and seaside hamlets far below. And of course, ship traffic, with various sized craft doing their summer holiday thing.

On our way back to Hvar we stopped for a swim at a small beach village of Milia. Water colder than we are used to, but very refreshing. The place was far less crowded too, quite a relief!

Nicky proved to be a brilliant pillion rider - far better bike passenger than car passenger, probably cos she couldn't see what I was doing 🤣🙄😳🛵

The next morning we trundled down the hill with our backpacks, found a comfy and shady spot to wait out the time before we caught the ferry. It was a great chilled time watching the tourists pass by and drinking the inevitable iced coffee. The ferry trip was uneventful if a little rough and there was a very dark cloud hovering which later turned out to be a result of bad fires in the forest in Split, our destination. We have been rather bemused by the inability of people in this part of the world to understand the mechanics of a queue.... it clearly is not part of their upbringing and is every man for himself so to speak. We had several queue jumpers in Hvar, one of which Nicky approached to point out the etiquette required, but it was like water off a ducks back. However in disembarking they were at the very back of the queue and were helpless in advancing forward... we smiled inwardly.

Split was another cobblestoned smorgasbord of palaces, churches, alleyways and ruins but in this case the centre of it all was a palace built by the Roman emperor, Diacletian, at the turn of the 4th century AD. It's a massive structure occupying a couple of modern city blocks. Within the palace Diacletian built himself a mausoleum, fitting to someone deified as a son of the god Jupiter. He even had a sphinx brought in from Egypt as part of the decoration. Later, around the 7th century AD, the Catholic Church got its own back for all the Christians that Diacletian had killed and converted his mausoleum into a cathedral complete with a magnificent bell tower which we just had to climb. There were 9 bells in there and Tony was waiting patiently for them to ring, which of course they did not, as I pointed out if they rang they would either deafen the people climbing up or cause them to go to an early grave. The view of the old city and harbour from the top was worth every steep step. Split had a lot more character/soul than Debrovnik and not as vastly and we were more drawn to it, possibly due to the old world aura created by some wonderful Dalmatian singers in the Vestibule of the palace. Maps are not their strong point and we spent a fruitless hour looking for a speciality coffee shop, D16, which we did eventually discover thanks to google maps - and the iced coffee was duly consumed ... feedback - needed a double shot of coffee. As you can see this is a theme throughout our trip 😋. This was the first time we cooked for ourselves as our B&B was fully equipped, just like at home.

The next morning was an early start as we had to catch the bus to Plitvice. By now we were savvy to the ways of non queuing and while Tony put our bags in the undercarriage I was champing at the bit to give our tickets and secure a front seat on our gleaming red bus ...mission accomplished. The bus driver managed to spend at least 60% of the journey talking on his cell phone and while he had a hands free set his conversation was intrusive and he had several calls whereby he needed to handle his phone. My word if you thought woman could talk, you were mistaken.

Plitvice was a complete change to the dry stony places we have visited and is a green lush, forested (beech, spruce and fir trees) lake system. It is a 295 square km forest reserve and comprises a chain of 16 terraced lakes joined by waterfalls that extend into a limestone canyon. Walkways and hiking trails wind around and across the water and an electric boat transports trippers between the 12 upper and 4 lower lakes. You can also catch a bus within the national park to help you cover the major distances and all is included in your entrance ticket. Each year 1 million visitors are recorded and we reckon 75000 of those were here. We had the afternoon to explore amidst these 75000 others and saw what was recorded as the largest waterfall.....well clearly they have not seen Victoria falls.... and I must confess to feeling rather let down. However the next day we set off early to avoid the crowds and had a wonderful walk with many special sights. The colours of the lakes ranged from azure to green grey and blue. Apparently the colours change constantly depending on the quantity of minerals or organisms in the water and the angle of sunlight. One thing we noticed was the lack of bird life despite there being 157 species identified. There are also apparently brown bears that live here but we did not see them, fortunately. When we had finished we noticed the crowds escalating - they were back- but we had done what we wanted to do so all was good.

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delilahssblog · 5 years

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New York for the first time

NEW YORK

The Bubbling Cauldron of all Humanity

It had been a dream for me for a lot of years and in the end, came about because of a brush with death and a bucket list in 2017.

My trip to New York started early on a Wednesday morning in December 2018 when my son Paul and I locked up and drove to BHX to get the 6.15am flight to Brussels (just under an hour) and a forward to JFK Airport (six and a half hours). It was a bit turbulent but nothing serious and was uneventful. It was very busy at JFK and I felt a little apprehensive at the thought of facing the US customs. I think if I wasn't born with a guilty conscience, I very soon acquired one and the stories I'd heard about getting into the USA, especially since the last election, made me wary. I had nothing to fear because my affairs were in order, I didn't have any kind of a criminal record and my ESTA had been authorised immediately.

We came down the stairs to the sight of one of those eight deep concertina queues which was crammed full already. Paul, being a many times visitor, enjoyed the luxury of being able to clear customs through one of the many automated methods so he said he'd see me on the other side and I resignedly took my place and prepared for the wait. We moved slowly because there were only four officers to deal with us and the ever increasing stream of travellers who kept pouring down the stairs. We ground to a halt when the four officers decreased to just one and considering that we all had to be fingerprinted and have our retinas scanned, it was going to be a while before I got through. In the event, it was one hour and twenty minutes in part due to the poor lady cutoms officer who was front line and taking a lot of flak. She went through the barrier and threw a wobbly and in no time, another three officers were installed and it was my turn. Fingerprinted, scanned and welcomed to the USA, I finally met up with Paul who had been unable to reach me on my mobile because it had stopped working somewhere over the Atlantic.

My first treat was a yellow cab and I sat back to enjoy the journey to the hotel and listen to the cab driver who incidentally was European and similar to our own taxi drivers over here. It was a lovely ride and as we neared Manhattan, I could feel the excitement creeping over me and I tried to get my head around the fact that I was here. I was actually in New York making my way to the Wyndham New Yorker Hotel on 8th Avenue, Midtown Manhattan and in a few moments, would be going through the giant revolving doors and standing in the foyer of an Art Deco gem.

Stepping in the door of this iconic building was like taking a step back in time to the thirties/forties, expectations of pert little bellboys, luggage laden movie stars and luxury. I stood for a while, my gaze fixed on the chandelier and immediately, Nikola Tesla came to mind. Physicist, prolific inventor, mechanical and electrical engineer to whom the world owes so much for it’s AC electric supply, telephone services, remote control, early x ray experiments and so much more... spent the last ten years of his life in this hotel and died in his room No 3327 after what was diagnosed as a coronary thrombosis.

On getting to the reception desk, we were delighted to discover that while Paul had requested a peep at the Tesla room, we had been granted occupancy for our stay. Wow! We knew then that this would be a great visit. Even more so when we were presented with complimentary breakfast vouchers as a welcome for my first ever visit to Manhattan. Up to our room on the 33rd floor via the ornate elevator which got us there in a flash. Once installed, we had a quick freshen up after an inspection of this historic room which was indeed very atmospheric and headed out on to Eighth Avenue for our first venture.

To step out of the relative quiet of the hotel foyer onto the throng of 8th and 34th was a shock to the senses. Hordes of people all milling about, snatches of conversation ( one of my favourite things ) and the tooting of vehicle horns. All this accompanied by the majestic sight of the Empire State Building before my very eyes in all it’s towering glamour. I was here at last, really here on the sidewalks of New York and the days stretched out before me like a rich carpet.

I had decided I didn’t want to go to the top of the Empire State because I’m not good with heights and so that was wavered in preference to a walk. I have no recollection of the route that we took because I was so busy ogling the sights. What a vibrant place to be on a Wednesday evening in December and my senses were on high tune for what I would see next. It turned into a New York evening light fest when we reached Broadway. I’m sure my mouth must have been hanging open because I’d never seen anything quite like that before. It got even better when we reached Times Square. It was everything I thought it would be and more. I saw the big ball that drops on New Year’s Eve, just a matter of weeks away and wondered what it would be like to be part of that crowd. Perhaps in my younger days but I was never told in those days that I could do anything I wanted, go anywhere I wanted and so it remained a dream until this moment, standing here and looking at that huge ball, phone in hand to take a pic.

On the way back, we chose 7th Avenue and I saw The Hard Rock Cafe across the road, reminiscent of the many times I’d heard it referenced in movies. We somehow skipped over to 5th and there, in all it’s magnificent glory was The New York Public Library. I’d seen it featured in the movie Sex and the City 2 and it was the beautiful setting Carrie had chosen for her near wedding and how I wanted to walk up those stairs. Unfortunately t was getting late and would have to be another time so we stood on the steps and took some pics. A lovely library employee came down the steps on her way home and she asked if we’d like a together pic. Would we !?

The last touristy stop for the evening took me completely by surprise. We went round this corner and that corner and there in front of me was what had originally been the main event of my trip. Rockefeller Centre. We jostled our way through the crowds to the edge of the bridge and looked down at the massive Christmas tree, the wonderful gold leaf statue and the skaters below. It took my breath clean away. I watched in awe, knowing that I’d never get to skate down there and it didn’t matter one iota. I’d been privileged to actually be here and see it for myself and that was enough.

Back to the Tick Tock diner where the menu blew my socks off. The size of the portions was staggering for someone with a small appetite. Paul had a pastrami burger and a Long Island iced tea while I opted for a cheese omelette which was delicious. We made our way to the Nikola Tesla room exhausted but happy and already looking forward to tomorrow.

It was cold in the night and I’d half expected the Tesla spectre to visit, he didn’t show although the room was very atmospheric. I had severe muscle cramp in the night and not a drop of tonic water to hand so I silently paced the floor until it eventually cleared. A look out of the window at the New York skyline with a sunrise backdrop was inspiring and we geared up for the day to follow starting with complimentary breakfast in the Tick Tock. As far as I can remember, I had a stack of pancakes with maple syrup with a side of sausage and hash browns which were like nothing I’d ever tasted...in other words, scrumptious.

Around the corner from the hotel was Penn Station so we caught the subway to Ground Zero. Another first and I soaked in the atmosphere in the subway as we rattled through the tubes to our destination. Nothing of the Twin Towers was in that memorial building for me as I stood and remembered the huge loss of life. It deserved a photo and I took one before we moved on.

There was a wonderful old church just across the road from all the newness and we stood a while taking a few more pics. I think it was St Paul’s and I couldn’t read any of the inscriptions on the tombstones I saw through the railings because so much time had passed and eroded them into pits of invisible bygone sentiments. I would love to have been able to spend more time and decipher at least one name to whom I could say...I was here. Not to be. Perhaps next time.

We went on down to Wall Street on our way to the Staten Island Ferry and the Charging Bull was reminiscent of the one in my hometown of Birmingham UK. Very slightly bigger, of course but so similar. I loved it and have decided to show the front view rather than the well endowed rear view that Paul took. Perhaps later.

On walking down to the Whitehall Terminal, we stopped to look over the Hudson and I thought about Sully and the magnificent heroic feat he pulled off, saving all those lives. At what appeared to be the way in to the ferries down a wide, railed path, three official looking guys were spread across the entrance handing out leaflets. They all had similar bomber jackets on and really did look like the welcoming party for the Liberty and Ellis Island tours but we held fire at their request for $35 and walked further on. Underneath an arch stood a little, middle aged lady, wrapped as much as possible against the chill wind coming off the river. We approached and asked where that way in was and we got talking. When asked, she revealed her name was Mary Ann and this was where she lived. She was lovely, so helpful in telling us not to buy our tickets from the three touts because their price was loaded and pointed us towards the stairs up to the Staten Island Ferry which was free. I gave her a hug and said if it was possible, I’d have taken her home with me and found her a bed. She whispered ‘If only..’ I’m sure when Mary Ann was born that her family wished for better things for her...at least I hoped so.

The ferry wasn’t as I’d ever seen it on the tv...smallish, black and white, people leaning on the rails on deck or over the stern watching the wake. It was a huge 310′ long 70′ wide 9000 horsepower orange monster with indoor seating only and no access to the deck. But it was a great ride to Staten Island and didn’t cost us a cent. We had excellent views of Ellis Island and Liberty Island and decided to take the tour as well when we disembarked .It was most enjoyable with New Jersey passing by on the right and Manhattan skyline to the rear and a bit of people watching to boot. They do say if you want to meet Americans, you shouldn’t go to NYC and to a great degree, it’s true because like us, most people we saw had cameras. It didn’t detract for me in any way. I love people full stop.

We walked past the three guys again with a bit of banter and found our way in to the Island Tours ticket station and what would have cost me $35 dollars, was a knockdown $14 with Paul’s at either $16 or $18 can’t remember. We boarded the this time familiar black and white vessels and sat up on the deck. How invigorating it was to be chugging our way to Liberty Island at which, we stayed on the boat because there would have been nothing else to see apart from what we were already looking at...the Lady in all her glory...and green glory at that. Weather-beaten old gal whose sightless eyes have seen a lifetime of immigration history pass before her into a new life. Ellis Island pressed all the right buttons for me. My grandfather and his family, including my mother, had landed here in 1907 and what a feeling it is to walk in the very place you’re people have walked, see the same sights their eyes have seen. It was HUGE for me. I had the same kind of feeling when I walked down the street my mother was born in in Glasgow. The aesthetics may be different but the ambience is the same and the memory lingers on. I also got something resembling the feeling when I stood on the stone steps in the portals of Sandhurt on my son’s passing out day and realised Winston Churchill had been there before me. Ellis Island’s reception building has been well refurbished, the floor once just a dirt floor now with highly polished tiled. The wall tiles all replaced with new but somehow, the atmosphere was there and I’m sure if I’d been in there alone, I would have drummed up the hum of conversation in many different tongues, the exhaustion of the steering class mixed with excitement at the thought of a new life in a new country. It was a wonderful experience, the walls covered with statistics and huge pictures of families making me wonder what their story was. My grandfather’s story was not a successful one in the USA. For whatever reason, he didn’t ‘make it’ and the whole family returned. He did make it in his own way and was able to provide for his family in Glasgow until his untimely death at 56 in 1918 from the dreaded Spanish flu’.

Although it slips my mind, I think maybe we walked but however we got there, we landed in Little Italy at Bigelow’s the Chemist and what an amazing shop full of goodies. I would like to have taken one of everything. Bottles and potions, wonderful little animal bedroom slippers and make up bags, hair ornaments and gloves. An Aladdin’s cave of everything lovely. My skin improved just by walking through it. We got on the subway to Times Square and from there the train back to Penn Station and the hotel. Full Circle. After a quick freshen up, we got a taxi to the Museum of Modern Art but unfortunately, we were too late and it was closing. It was pouring with rain but it was of no consequence because my mind was preoccupied with the day and the incredible experience that was in front of me yet to be savoured. A night at Carnegie Hall. Wow. We walked around looking for a pub but the ones we found were packed so we settle for a cafe where we could get a hot drink. I asked for tea and sat at the table wiping the rain off my face as it dripped down from my scalp. Paul came back from the counter and the cups were enormous, the fillings fabulous.

It was a fairly short walk down the road to Carnegie Hall and we got there in good time. We were up in the gods and walked up the staircases without missing a beat ( courtesy of many years of stairs at home) and made ourselves comfortable in our front row seats to enjoy Handel’s Messiah. The work itself is quite repetitive and both Paul and I owned up later to having to fight to stay awake during the first bit. Well, we did have a very busy day. The lead up to the Halleluia Chorus was more than enough to keep us awake and the Chorus was phenomenal. Magic. Incredible. It brought the house down as they say and to such an extent that the encore was a designated sing along which was out of this world!!! I don’t have a single pic but perhaps Paul has one that I can put in later. I’m sure we got a taxi back to the hotel. I’m also sure we must have eaten at some stage but my head was so full of wonderful things, I just don’t remember. It’s coming back now. We had dinner in the diner but what we ate escapes me. Bring on Friday. As with all the other rides and trips and walks, I had no idea what was in store because Paul arranged it all. How wonderful is that?? I had no idea what was on the cards for the following day but if my experience so far was anything to go by, it would be something good. I fell asleep with a vision of the little Ellis Island sparrow perched on the ferry rail. They certainly knew where to gather for food. New York sparrows. Street wise.

Our last full day and we were up with the lark. My cramp had faded away like magic after a couple of swigs of tonic water bought for me from the so convenient 711 store just down the road from the hotel. I also got a bottle of Tropicana Raspberry Lemonade which was s..o..ooo lush but cant be purchased in the UK.

After a mind boggling brekkie in the Tick Tock, off we trooped with brollies purchased from a guy outside the hotel, fully equipped for the day ahead

We visited Bryant Park where Nikola Tesla went every day to feed the pigeons. There was a Christmas market there which we trooped around and a skating rink under 6 inches of water after a night and morning of rain.

.Pennsylvania station was a port of call and we bought day tickets. I had so much trouble with the swiping of said ticket because of my tremor, mostly undetectable to the human eye but in a machine so sensitive, a disaster. Paul had to do mine for me every time virtually and we did hop a few subway trains during the course of the day, even managing the obligatory wrong way ride. We noticed three stops in and it was simple to get off, cross over and get on the right one. The wrong way one brought an unexpected little treat however...The Subway Buskers. Two guitars and a double base...in a subway train. It was a joy and ‘ Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad prospero ano y felicidad’ went round pleasantly in my head for a while after we got off. Our destination was up town to the Western side of Central Park and the Dakota Building outside of which, John Lennon was tragically shot dead. How the actions of someone with a brain dysfunction can have a ripple effect on the whole world. Some things will never be explained however we seek the reason. Directly across the road, we stood and looked at the Strawberry Fields memorial in the pouring rain. It seemed appropriate.

After a couple more subway hops and corner turns, there we were outside the Brill Building which in its day must have been pretty fabulous. I was so busy trying to peer through the door window that I missed the exchange between Paul and a couple of guys who’d stopped for some reason or other. I tuned in when one of the guys was saying...’ Hey man, don’t be scared of black people. We won’t do you any harm..’ and both Paul and I, laughing at the ridiculousness of his statement turned round and I saw two wonderful black faces. To the one nearest me, I said...’ No! How could we be. We LOVE you..’ and I grabbed him in a big hug, noticing his beautifully white, flashing teeth as I did so. Paul was similarly engaged with the other one although it was more of a handshake than a hug. They were promoting their music and asking our names, produced two cds and wrote ‘To the Big Man’ on Paul’s and ‘To Sexy Kim’ on mine. I’d have loved to chat longer because the love and warmth they gave out was soul food but they noticed a policeman and were gone in the bat of an eyelid.

On the outside, the building looked derelict but we found our way inside, caressing the door handles that so many famous musical talents had touched in their day on the way to one of the many studios to write or record their songs. Standing in the entrance, one could see the bygone opulence, a bit like resting one’s eyes on a fading movie star of latter years. One could see without doubt how wonderful she’d been in her heyday. There was a woman behind the huge reception desk who told us in a nice way that we weren’t allowed to go any further than the entrance hall but that was ok. In fact, it was ace. At some time or other, someone like Neil Diamond stood in this exact spot.

Being unfamiliar with the terrain, I’m not too sure what order our sightseeing took but at some point, we were once again outside The Public Library and this time, we went inside. It was breathtaking and I looked in awe at the fabulous sweeping right hand staircase that unnecessary wedding gown swept on its way up...and down again . The only pic I have is a shaky handed one of the Christmas tree. Sorry.

Onward and forward...to Grand Central Station and what a gobsmacking place that is. The ideal spot for some people watching and I could have stayed for a couple of hours easily, leaning over the upstairs balcony rail star spotting. didn’t see a single one although I did see someone who looked incredibly like Sarah Jessica Parker. I don’t suppose even being in New York, in Grand Central Station it could possibly have been her. I didn’t realise at the time that I probably stood in the spot where Jason Gould played the violin to Nick Nolte in the movie The Prince of Tides.

On our way to...or from...the station, we met two of New York’s finest and asked politely if I could have a pic taken with them. You can see how small I am...or how gargantuan they are. A lovely moment.

I find myself smiling while I’m writing this and revisiting the places once again...and it’s lovely. I knew it would be good but I had no idea it would be as great as it was from start to finish.

On the subway once again, this time to Chinatown and The Bowery, suspect to walk through at one time but not now. We had a long walk when we got off the train right the way down through Chinatown and across to Orchard Street and the Tenement Museum. We booked a tour and waited, browsing in the shop. When we got inside the preserved tenement, it blew me away. It was as it had been all those decades ago. They’d burrowed down patches of the wall to discover something like 37 layers of wallpaper and 42 coats of paint. The walls, in fact everything in the entrance hall was brown and so old, I was scared to touch the walls in case it collapsed. we were studying the two lives of two families who dwelt on the first floor with a 50 year gap between them. The first was in the 1870s and the second, the 1920s. Life was hard for both families but the later one had more amenities.The husband deserted and left the wife with the children, three I think, but she started her own seamstress business and made a good living for all of them. I found it fascinating. There was a small communal yard out the back where washing could be hung and shared toilets on the landings. Two small rooms with just a double window in some looking out onto Orchard Street, a wall built halfway across the room to give a little privacy to the bedroom. Some had put a curtained window in the middle wall to let in some light. It’s unimaginable that we have what we have now and still complain. The immigrants who went to America seem to have been filled with gumption, a purpose and a will to survive plus an intelligence to know what would get them through as was very evident in the life story the taxi driver told us on our way to JFK the following day

Back to The New Yorker for some food and a chat way into the night. One of those wonderful, revealing chats a mother can have with her son and never ever forget.

The last morning and we’d have to leave for the airport at midday so we went to the Tick Tock and feasted ourselves on brekkie, came back to the room and decided to have a last walk around the hotel. It was this morning that I opened one of the drawers in the room and found a wonderful book about the life of Nikola Tesla so that was avidly leafed through. During our stay, I’d heard lots of voices and conversations outside our door but assumed it was other guests coming and going from their rooms but Paul looked through the spyhole one time and saw a man and his boy outside our door, reading the plaque so he opened up and invited them in for a look.They were absolutely delighted and they stayed for as chat. They were from Texas and Paul swapped cards, saying if they were ever in the UK to look him up. There were a few after that, the last ones being the morning we left and I was happy to see the interest that Nikola Tesla still evoked.

We got on the train and went on a little shopping trip but we had to watch the time and getting back, packing completed, papers in order, Paul went down to check out and arrange a taxi to the airport. It was a bit sad really, leaving all that behind. We’d seen and done so much, I’d never have believed it possible and yet so much more left to do. It’s an incentive to get back there and I’d go tomorrow. Every pound of the pavement was worth it and apart from a little hip trouble toward the very end of the trip,( helped by Extra Strength Tylanol), the only visible evidence was a bruised toenail or two.

As it turned out. our car was ready early and when we walked out with our luggage, a big shiny black saloon awaited us. As I slid over the soft leather of the back seat, I thought...’ This is the way to get to the airport..’ Our journey passed by in no time due to the driver telling us the story of his coming to America and it kept me fascinated. His family came from the Dominican Republic and his father, a greengrocer, bought a shop and all the family worked in it. I think the location was in Brooklyn but I’ll have to check that. Our cabbie grew up, married and had a family and to keep themselves safe and free from harm, he had an ‘agreement’ with the drug dealers that he would turn a blind eye and they would see his shop never got robbed or interfered with in any way. He had made an extremely good living which included the takings from several slot machines he had in his shop before they were banned. So much so that he bought homes for his children and was back and forth to his homeland, which he was gearing up to retire to very shortly. He sounded like someone who’s seen it, probably done it and in stead of getting the tee shirt, reaped the very considerable benefits. His children all did well and had good jobs and children themselves and so he certainly will have left his thread in the tapestry of America. The shop was sold and he took up taxiing as a way to supplement his already substantial income. He was a worker though from day one and if you have that ethic, a little bit of luck and a little bit of backing, you can achieve whatever you set your heart on. I never knew this when I was growing up and the box we were put into had no windows and was small which taught me to set my bar low. I don‘t regret who I eventually became, just the person I started as who knew nothing, was taught nothing about life and made of it what she could.

We were virtually straight through at JFK.....going out is a lot easier than coming in. On the plane, I watched a couple of movies,,,The Wife was one of them and it was excellent. We reached Frankfurt in no time where I was chosen for a check and was body searched by a woman you wouldn��t talk back to. I passed and we were on our way to the gate for BHX. It was miles away and we walked for ages and ages and even took a train ride before we eventually got there. It was a comfortable, smallish aeroplane and the journey was over in no time. We collected our luggage at the carousel and got on the shuttle to the car park. I can’t remember the time but it was earlyish morning and as Paul dropped me home, I was thinking about collecting Robbie from Cramar, the boarders. I went straight to the shops and bought the necessary....it was Christmas in two days and I needed turkey. I got all I wanted and flew down to Cramar to get my gorgeous boy. He’d proved very challenging and had refused to eat until the night before. I looked into his accommodation and there was no sign of him. I said ‘Robbie...Mama’s back..’ and as long as I live, I’ll never forget the look on his little face as his head popped around from his hidden sleeping space. His eyes were like saucers and he raced to my side.

All in all, it was probably one of the best trips of my life and I have Paul to thank for his wonderful overseeing, planning and keeping me safe. I can say that in all my time in New York, I never felt threatened in any way. It was wonderful and I will go back.

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