Down You Get (E) - 3k
Jack Quaid/Karl Urban
masturbation, hand jobs, blowjobs, wet & messy, facials, come shot, finger sucking, mild daddy kink, plot what plot/porn without plot, RPF
Jack presses himself back against the door, exhaling hard and dropping both hands down to immediately pull open his pants - he’s still got the fake blood from the take they’d just done, wet and warm and smeared into the thin line of hair that travels down towards the base of his cock; he ignores the damp feeling of it on his wrist as he pushes his right hand beneath his boxers to wrap, tight and hot around himself.
OR: close scenes on set with Karl are going to be Jack's downfall:
READ ON AO3 HERE (archive locked)
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so what if itoshi rin happens to stop by a cafe during a downpour, expecting it to be just another dingy cafe in the basement with a drink he doesn't even enjoy. fully prepared to book it out the moment the rain stops, rin doesn't pay attention at first to the person who goes up to the stage and sits, carrying a guitar.
but then, he hears your voice at the first pluck of string and he may have fallen in love a bit at the first melody.
of course, it doesn't hit him immediately at first. it begins with him sitting in silence until you finish the last song. then it's him visiting every time he could for two weeks straight. then it's him remembering that you play every wednesday and weekend, noon and evening. then it's you recognizing him after one show and then it's him learning your name as you do his.
and if his team and big brother wonder why he grows calmer and plays many untitled recordings—given by you, made by you—he will probably punch them out of panic. but, at least he owes them for making him realize that it's a crush, actually.
(or, rin falls in love with you, your song, and more.)
#1
"...that's...you like someone...?" isagi speaks as if he is an incarnation of some demented fish. the moron even gapes like one.
rin tries his best not to reflexively throw the water bottle at hand. he would, if it isn't for a series of loud "the fuck"s and "no way"s that resound through the locker room. there is also a "bitch pay up! rinrin is in love, see?!" that suspiciously sounds like the blonde roach's voice, but honestly rin's biggest concern is his brother—who freezes like a statue and goes wide-eyed with a grace of a dying clam.
from the corner of his eyes, sae truly looks like he gets a heart attack and turns out rin still loves him enough to worry. but if the hunch that says that shitty brother is considering either giving pieces of advice or bees-and-birds talk there and then is right—rin is murdering him along with hiori yo who looks way too amused for his own good.
in the end, rin does end up throwing that bottle to isagi's face. rin revels in his pained squawk.
"i don't!" rin shouts, ignoring the creeping heat on his cheeks. for some reason he feels like he is lying but for now, he better socks sae in the face because that motherfucker looks like he is ready to speak.
#2
you sit on the rough surface of the cement stairs. as you take your guitar out of its case, a train of thought walks through your mind. a few months ago, the thought of having someone to sit here with you, enjoying the sunset while you play is a bit too farfetched.
but then rin—the guy who keeps appearing at the cafe every time you play, the guy who is cool, the good-looking guy, the guy who always listens every time you speak or play—just enters your life.
rin sits one step below your feet and looks at you so attentively that it makes you feel special. as you adjust the instrument in your hand, you wonder if it's wrong for you to fall simply because of that.
it probably is—a part of you say. but, you know that part too was the one who made you doubt yourself weeks ago, before rin shuts it up with a simple admittance of his preference to your songs.
so, like a fool, you smile—lovesick, too honest, too obviously, "hey, have i ever played a love song for you?"
rin hums, filling in the silence as he seems to try to remember something. shifting his weight to lean on his elbow, he offers you a confident answer, "few times, in the cafe."
"but never in our solo shows, right?" you place your fingers on the strings. the word 'our' comfortably resting in your sentence.
you notice how rin's eyes soften and never have you ever wished that you didn't read things wrongly this much. "yeah," rin says, the orange of the sunset decorating his face in a way that makes you realize how pretty aquamarine suits him.
"then," you hope you will have courage, one day. "that shall be our song today."
notes: this hellsite ate this so out of spite i remade everything. also out of love because rinnie is babey. but yeah—rin who falls in love with musician you. the thought of a grumpy guy who listens to acoustic ballad played by his favorite person and cooking down immediately is cute to me. so here you have it, kinda post canon, kinda no plot just coming of age vibe kinda slice of life vibe. plus the thought of chance meeting in a cafe stage is cute. yeah i just think this idea is cute and i got bored in the train. this thing is a few weeks old actually, but. yeah. anyway another blurbs for now ❤ maybe i really should make masterlist for these stuffs 🐒 after the trip myb. but yeah, honestly rin feels soft for me since long ago. esp on the inside. and the thoughts of him getting "special" "only for him" stuffs feels good after all the "sae replacement" stuffs he went thru in canon. i think he is the type who will make you feel special because he really is all in for you. okay yeah my head kinda dizzy maybe i will add something more later. shout out to ms. lau/fey and mbak yu/ra yuni/ta for the songs that play in my head, it makes it better.
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SO ANYWAY:
Dirty Downtime (E) - 3k
Jack Quaid/Random Man, Jack Quaid/Karl Urban
blowjobs, alley blowjobs, wet & messy, facials, come shot, finger sucking, plot what plot/porn without plot, RPF
There’s something to be said for the climb, for the struggle of the industry - or for the perceived climb at least and hell, he missed out on the getting dirty of it all, missed out on the having to beg and scratch and claw for a first role –
Which is why he keeps ending up here.
OR: Jack Quaid likes to get on his knees behind seedy bars for the promise of a good word with a producer, not that he needs it.
READ ON AO3 HERE (archive locked)
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it rains here. (nanami kento x reader)
summary: there was no snow to fall here and nanami kento still felt like he was in a dream.
notes: i wanted to cuddle nanami kento that's the only one constant in this fix it fic. also there is no snow in tropical countries. i used to want snowy dec, but i think nanami will take comfort in it and perhaps it's okay now. this is a fluff, but there is an undertone of effect of trauma on nanami as this is jjk. nothing explicit, but just a heads up. written with f!reader in mind, could be read as gn.
as the rain fall in december, it dawned upon nanami kento that he was in a very different new place already.
"kento, do you hear me?" a hand, followed closely by your voice, gently pulled him back to where he was. slowly turning his head, finding you leaning on his hand whilst wrapping both of yours around it, once again, it became hard for him to realize that it was not a dream.
it was near the kuantan beach, it was his books stacked neatly beside him, it was him sitting on a foreign hotel sofa facing the cityscape, and it was you who felt as familiar as a long-forgotten home.
"kento?"
the winter was supposed to be approaching, but there was no snow.
but there would be no snow here, would it? in the same way that there would be no curses dragging him out into a battlefield, away from your hands.
"kento, you are worrying me now," you started to frown—kento noted how seeing it in such a setting here felt pleasant, "are you lacking sleep? ah, you read too much last night didn't you!"
"i did not. please do not push such accusation to me," kento replied to you blandly and curtly. contrary to his tone, however, he shifted and heaved out a short sigh the moment he managed to get you closer to his side. a hand on your hip as he rested his head on the cushion, leaning back right next to yours.
it felt like a dream. it really felt like one.
this was too nice.
it almost felt like he was running out of time—
right beside him, you too leaned towards him even further. "then why are you spacing out so much?" you asked, before adding reprimandingly, "just so you know if it really is because you lost track of time reading, we are setting alarm."
"that is too much," he said, closing his eyes.
"is it now, mr. 'treat holiday like an overwork'?"
"i do not treat it like that. i hate overwork."
"then you should be able to relax and take time here. we still have many days left, no need to rush through those books," you huffed. kento couldn't see it, but he could imagine how you puffed out your chest.
"it seems that you have become a little bit more strict since we arrived here," kento noted, sleepiness seeping into his voice.
"of course. i have to keep you healthy in case you overdo it on this vacation!" a hand reached out to his shoulder, messaging it lightly before it crawled up to rest on the back of his neck.
it felt real.
it felt so real—the feeling of your skin, the weight, and warmth of it—and yet he—
kento sighed, not knowing what else to say. "i see."
then, feeling the heaviness weighted down even further behind his eyes, kento gently called your name.
humming, you replied to him. "what is it?"
"i will be sleeping for a bit. please do wake me up in a few minutes."
"eh? in this position? you will get a sore neck, you know?"
kento knew you were right. however, being like this—exactly like this, with you, with everything, with the sound of rain from outside of the window—it was hard for him to resist. after all, once a man got a taste of their dream, it would be hard for them not to soak in it.
"it wouldn't be a problem. i have had worse."
"...so this is your vacation mode, huh?" you teasingly mused. "but, okay, go to sleep. i will wake you up later."
nanami kento still thought this was a dream. it was too nice for it not to be.
but with your fingers tangling with his hair, with the slight gentle tug and company you offered him, with the smell of the book and unfamiliar room, and everything as it was—
"good night, kento. let's take a walk on the beach later, okay?"
there was no snow to fall here and nanami kento still felt like he was in a dream.
but he was happy, and it was enough.
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