....is officially COMPLETE!!! Holy cow that took forever and I am so so sorry for how long it took to finish off.
Thanks if you still care and stuck with it, and if you ever left a comment or kudos or sent a kind word 💕
As I said in the post, this fic (and all my other fics) will be made to only be viewable to ao3 users in about a week or so. Thank you so much for everything and ilu.
Here's a link to the playlist on Spotify with all the songs from the story.
Fever for the Flava, Hot Action Cop
Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt, We Are Scientists
Hey Now, The Regrettes
WTF?, OK Go
Kiss Me, New Found Glory
First Date, Blink-182
Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo, Bloodhound Gang
The Happy Song, Kate Micucci
Linger, The Cranberries
I Want You, But I Don't Need You, Amanda Palmer
What'll It Be, Santino Fontana (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend)
Author’s note: It hasn't been *that* long, has it?? ...I'm so sorry, here’s a chapter of flangsty porn.
Jack decidedly doesn’t go home, he wanders 'round the block and he doesn’t answer any of Matt or Ryan’s calls. Mark, funny enough, hasn’t tried to call him at all. Smart of him.
He walks aimlessly until the sun blurs behind the clouds, until the light from his phone is brighter than the sky. He walks until his feet somehow lead him to Mark's building.
Mark’s voice is tinny over the intercom, gruff and tired as he says, “I know it's you, Wade. Go away, please.”
“It’s me,” Jack answers back, throat tight. “Let me up.”
After a second, Mark buzzes him in.
**
“H-hey,” Mark says, his hand shaky on the door frame. His nose is swollen, nostrils dark with dried blood. The bridge of his nose is pink and slightly crooked under the splotchy blood-stained cotton and tape, and there’s a dark line of bruising under his eye. “Jack, God, I'm so–”
“That looks broken,” Jack remarks flatly, walking in past him into his loft, barely taking in the grandness of it. It looks different to what it did at the party, not smaller really, just more intimate. Homely.
He hovers near the tv stand, fiddling with his hands.
“Um yeah," Mark says, "It is... I think.”
“You didn’t get it checked out?”
Mark shuts the door behind himself and leans against it heavily, sighing. “Didn’t think I deserved to.” He pauses, Jack still has his back to him. “Listen, um…”
“That’s dumb,” Jack says mildly, finally turning back around, “You might get stuck with a big dent in your nose.”
“My face has seen worse,” Mark jokes, looking perplexed.
Jack sits down on the sofa and beckons him over. “C’mon,” he says when Mark hesitates, “Oh, now it’s not like I’m gonna punch ya. Just come here.”
Looking wary and incredibly confused, Mark does so, sitting beside him and awkwardly folding his hands on his lap.
“Lemme see,” Jack says quietly, turning Mark’s face with gentle fingers on his jaw. The touch is jarring for both of them. “Looks real sore,” he hisses.
“Uh, yeah it's… but listen, Jack, I'm–”
But then Jack is gently pressing his lips to Mark’s, soft and so careful.
**
When they finally break apart, Mark’s heart is racing painfully in his chest. He and Jack both are breathing sharply against each other for a few seconds. Jack leans back in, and starts undoing the buttons on his shirt.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Mark says hastily, grabbing at Jack's hands and pulling back when he tries to kiss him again. “Wait, we should - we need to talk, right? Jack, I need to explain–”
Jack does kiss him then, harder this time, enough to make Mark’s face ache. “Not now,” he begs, barely a whisper against Mark’s lips. “I don’t - please, just. For right now, just... kiss me?”
Mark blinks, whatever this is, he can't say no to Jack. He doesn't want to say no.
Mark grabs the back of Jack's neck and kisses him fiercely, the pain a dull ache compared to the pleasure of having this. Their bodies turning towards one another. Jack’s lips and their hips grinding together.
Their clothes come off somewhere in the midst of it all. Mark loses track of time, doesn't know how Jack comes to sit across his legs the way he does; with Mark’s chest pressed against his back. His naked cock slipping up between Jack’s pale thighs, as his nails dig into the bones of his hips.
"Fuck," Mark says, bucking his hips up, "Jack, fuck."
Jack throws his head back against Mark’s shoulder, reaching down to fist himself tight and fast. “Mark,” he breathes, eyes closed, “Please, please, give me…”
“Anything you want,” Mark answers quickly, biting and sucking at the skin between Jack’s neck and shoulder, until he feels a nose nudge against his temple.
“Look at me,” Jack whispers, angling his head back.
Mark groans as he does so. Jack looks so beautiful like this, spread out for him, writhing in his lap. He doesn't know how he got so lucky. He doesn't deserve—
“Mark,” Jack says. His voice is thick with something - something Mark feels so close to deciphering, but then his legs press together, squeezing his cock just perfectly, and Mark feels Jack tense against him.
"Come on, Jack. I want you to. Fuck."
"Oh, Mark, oh—Christ," Jack moans into his mouth, his body twitching above him as his come spurts all over his hand and stomach.
Mark watches him come apart greedily, but he doesn’t get to bask in it long - as suddenly Jack is off him and posing him, angled across the sofa, with one leg draped over the armrest. Mark can't take his eyes off of him as he kneels on the floor between Mark's spread knees.
“You wanna come on me?” Jack asks in a low voice, almost casually as he wraps his slender fingers around Mark’s cock. “On my face?”
“What?” Mark says, pushing himself up on his elbows as Jack’s hand speeds up. “Oh fuck–what?”
“In my mouth?” Jack lowers his head, green hair tickling Mark's inner thigh. He sticks his tongue out to taste the tip. Mark shudders. “Fuck, you taste so good. Give it to me, Mark.”
“Jack--”
“Look at me.”
He does, and at the sight of Jack simpering on his knees, naked and looking wrecked with his mouth wide open, Mark finally comes. The head of his dick nudges up against Jack’s lips as his orgasm rips through him.
Jack lingers there, licking up the ropes of come from his lips, running his mouth over the shaft until Mark's cock begins to soften and he whimpers at the sensation.
Jack kisses a slow trail up his stomach, rising up to lie heavily on top of him, nuzzling up under Mark’s stubbly chin.
"We should still--"
But Jack shushes him again, this time with a soft thumb to his lips that he replaces with a filthy kiss.
Mark wants to protest, it's all too gentle, too forgiving, too good. It's not what he deserves.
But sleep takes him easily like this, with the warm weight of Jack on top of him and the pain of his nose a faint memory.
He sleeps, and he's always been a heavy sleeper.
When Mark wakes up he finds that all traces of Jack are gone. He's covered in a blanket, and gets up to find his clothes neatly folded at the end of the sofa, even his nose is cleanly re-bandaged.
And when Mark checks, there's an email on his phone with a video file attached.
occasionally people i follow will reblogged anti-rpf posts and it always make me feel deeply uncomfortable about my own place in fandom and with my engagement with rpf because I write it and I'm aware of the fictitious nature of what I'm writing but anti rpf discourse re: privacy, the idea that it is simply fetishisation, robs men of the idea that they can be "just" friends with other men. idk i just want to write and be happy.
my advice is to write and be happy!!!
imagining the interiority of celebrities is not a pasttime that’s exclusive to fandom—look at entertainment media as a whole! not to mention the entire genre of historical fiction/drama and projects like Hamilton or The Crown or a hundred other based-on-real-events stories. look at every book, show, and museum about world war ii and the lives of its soldiers! we aren’t the only ones doing this, is my point, but by and large we are the only ones being treated like shit about it—and that is absolutely gendered. your work is being regarded through a lens that infantilizes and discredits the passions and labor of women, and makes the assumption that because you engage in this hobby, you’re a ripe target for misogynistic strategies of shame and control.
RPF is not just a creative & emotional challenge. the “relationships” we form with our imagined versions of these people actually fall into the category of parasocial relationships. that’s the idea of forming connections that are emotionally important, meaningful, and let us explore something important for ourselves & our sense of social relationships, through the format of how we relate to fictional or *fictionalized* versions of people. rich parasocial relationships are linked to intelligence, emotional depth, and empathy—as long as we know we aren’t forming bonds to real versions of these people. we may be internet flotsam & fringe, but we aren’t delusional. we don’t deserve to be treated like we are.
when I write RPF, i am writing about a pete wentz I have made into fiction. I know he’s not real and that if I met the real pete wentz, I wouldn’t know him. that doesn’t matter to me. I explore so many important-to-me issues and complexities by imagining the interior of this man and his interpersonal dynamics with imagined others. doing that while creating emotional continuity and playing within the “rules” of real-life events is a combination of research and creativity that challenges me uniquely as a writer—plus, it forms a shared universe for me and my friends. and we enjoy ourselves there! because I don’t do anything to infringe on his actual privacy and I don’t try to interact with him about my fic, I consider this to be a harmless pastime.
now this thing about how rpf shipping somehow destabilizes public perception of friendships between men… like… what?? that is such a blatant and misogynistic attempt to limit and control what women enjoy! we are not personally responsible for The Culture™️’s view of masculine intimacy, and what we scream into our personal void on ao3 doesn’t impact it *at all.* who reads our stories but people who are deliberately seeking them out and engaging with them? whoever is putting that pressure on you is, in my opinion, full of shit. the VAST majority of ‘great’ and classic western literature and film is obsessively focused on the inter- and intrapersonal relationships of men with men, and the VAST majority of those so-called classics that dominate intellectual and cultural spaces could not pass a single feminist critique like the Bechdel or Mako Mori test. all of which is to say: I assure you, there are ample fucking representations of friendships between men in our culture. we do not need to curb our private recreational activities in order to protect the perception of these poor, helpless fragile creatures. we do not need to edit ourselves for the protection of men who are entirely too famous to ever even know we exist.
all of this is to say: to the anti-RPFers of the world, please employ the time-honored tradition of “don’t like, don’t read.” whatever your hobbies and favorites are, I wish you joy of them. fuck off and extend the same benefit to others!
and to my RPF crew and my fellow tinhats: write and be happy. block people who treat you like shit and fill your blog with things that make you lighter til you shine like the fucking sun. life is too short to fill our hearts with bitterness, and maybe one day the people who seek to make us unhappy will realize it too. I am sorry people have been unkind to you, and I hope you do not allow them to spoil any of your joy.
Author’s note: I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time. Please help me.
The day before.
On Friday, Jack wakes up to the sun streaming in through his blinds and onto his face. A sudden rush of elation settles over him as he sits up. For some reason he feels excited about today, and he just can’t help but send a message to Mark.
‘how do ya feel abt a brunch date?’
Not five seconds later he gets a message back. ‘It’s breakfast AND lunch AND you! how can I lose?’
Jack smiles at his phone and stretches out onto his bed.
**
They meet at eleven at the park across from Mark’s building. Mark smiles sweetly when he sees him, and greets him with an awkward bro hug.
They sit outside, Jack with a sausage roll and Mark with a banana thickshake and a bag of cookies he brought himself. “There are no food rules with brunch,” he states firmly, throwing a cookie into the air and sputtering when it hits his nose instead of his mouth.
“We’d have to ask the inventor of brunch to verify that,” Jack laughs.
“Oh, yes, of course” Mark says, bumping Jack’s elbow with his own. “Hey, how much do you bet that the inventor of brunch was gay.”
“Well,” Jack says, pretending to mull it over, “It is the gayest time of the day.”
“Isn’t it though?” Mark smiles, then a peaceful silence falls between them as he takes a long sip of his shake.
Jack stares off into the distance. There’s not many people that are out right now, mostly babysitters and dog walkers and people crossing the park to work.
It’s such a nice day. The sky has a golden tinge to it that makes Jack feel strange inside; like he’s seventeen again, ditching school in the middle of p.e and climbing through the fence next to the park. It happened more than a few times, and he remembers just wandering alone all day. It’s such a weird feeling, he thinks, like being nostalgic for something that wasn’t all that great when it happened - it was just so long ago.
Jack clears his throat, “This’ll sound weird but… what were you like, when you were seventeen?”
Mark frowns, looking bemused. “Hmm, just an average high school nerd, I guess” he says, “I got along with most people. Uh, I was in the marching band…” Mark pauses and holds up a finger when he sees Jack’s eyes go wide. “Shut the hell up.”
“But--”
“Shush!” He puts his finger on Jack’s bottom lip, and Jack bites it playfully. Mark stares for a moment before clearing his throat and putting his hand down. “I was also totally in denial of my sexuality.”
“Go figure,” Jack says, and touches Mark’s wrist. “Me too.”
Mark folds his hands in his lap, frowning. “What was it like for you? Coming out - I mean, if you want to answer, I know it’s not--”
“Shhh,” Jack says and, mimicking Mark, he puts a finger to his lips. “When I came out it was… messy.”
Mark stays silent, and watches him intently.
With a sigh, Jack continues, “Okay look, I was an asshole kid. I have a lot of siblings and, y’know, big cliche, I got into trouble a lot. I stole shit I didn’t need, I skipped class to smoke weed in the bathrooms, got my ears pierced and stretched ‘em so I wouldn’t get hired for jobs my dad got for me. But, the worst time, was when I got caught spray painting a train.”
“My mother had to come pick me up from the police station. And, you know, I’ve seen her pissed before; she yells, I yell, usually that’s how it’ll go, but this time… she just… wouldn’t say anything. The whole ride home, she wouldn’t even look at me. And I think she was crying before she came in and got me but... things just weren’t the same with us after that.”
Mark goes to hold his hand, and Jack lets him, tilting his head. “So anyway, a few weeks later I sit them down, tell ‘em I’m gay and “fuck you, deal with it”. And they told me to pack my bags.”
“That’s awful,” Mark says sincerely, “you were just a kid.”
“Nah,” Jack says, waving him away. “I always knew it was more ‘cause I was a shitheel than ‘cause I was gay. ‘Fore I left, my dad handed me a couple hundred and told me to sort myself out, and make my life count. “You’re more than just some low-life punk, Sean”, he said, and my dad never calls me Sean,” Jack smiles ruefully at the memory. “Anyways, things got better between my parents and me when I went to college.”
“That’s…” Mark starts, then clears his throat. “I’m glad.”
“But, what about you?” Jack turns to look at Mark. “How did you come out?”
“Ah, well. I had the luxury of being utterly fucking confused for as long as I can remember,” Mark laughs awkwardly. “When I was a teenager and started dating girls I thought, yeah okay, this feels right, but then Johnny Football Hero would smile at me on the field during practise and my brain was like, nope, back to the drawing board.”
He goes quiet, but then Jack squeezes his hand and Mark smiles. “I never got to… come out to my dad, he died before I was even close to figuring anything out, including what I wanted to do with my life. My step-mom was the first person I ever actually told, and then my mom… she’s… still trying to come to terms with it. I mean, she’s supportive,” Mark huffs and scratches his chin. “But I think it would be easier for her if I was just gay, then I wouldn’t have to constantly explain why sometimes I’ll date women if I also like men.”
“With my brother it’s different, it’s like he’s always known, so it wasn’t a big deal to him,” Mark says, swallowing, “my being bi. Um. I only came out to them last year.”
“Last- oh,” Jack says shocked, raising his eyebrows. “Oh - but - the company?”
“Yeah,” Mark laughs, “That was… a miscalculation, it got way bigger than I thought it would when I started it - and,” he pauses and turns his body towards Jack, “Can I tell you something?”
Jack nods, “Cross my heart.”
Mark smiles at him. “The company’s tanking,” he tells him quietly, cringing. “I was always going to sell it but its value isn’t what it was. Which is why I… came out, so to speak, in the article, and, you know,” he gestures between them, “I’ve been trying to generate buzz around it to up the price.”
“What would you do with all that money?” Jack asks, bewildered.
“Well, what I really want is to redirect the money towards charity work, maybe make my own charity organisation,” Mark answers earnestly, holding his hands out before him. “I want to make something that actually makes a difference, you know? Something my dad would be proud of.”
Jack smiles fondly at Mark, and places a hand on his leg.
“That’s amazing,” Jack says, “You - I definitely think it’ll work.” He feels his chest constrict when Mark puts his hand on top of his.
Jack doesn’t ask the question at the back of his mind - if what’s between them is part of Mark’s plan to get the company more attention - but he resolves not to. He knows Mark, he trusts him. And what Jack feels for him… that has to be enough.
**
.That day.
“Hey Tyler, just calling to confirm that you received those… err,” Kathryn pauses to read the small slip of paper, shaking her head, “Serious Business Mystery Papers”? Why do I let Ethan title the memos?”
Tyler laughs over the phone, “Yeah, I got them on my desk an hour ago and faxed ‘em over to Wade. Hey, have you seen Mark today?”
“Not since that twinky green-haired guy went into his office,” Kathryn tells him, smirking, “which also happened to be over an hour ago.”
“Is he twinkier than Ethan?” Tyler asks.
“Oh no,” Kathryn says seriously, “that’s not physically possible.”
“I heard that!” Ethan yells in the background.
Kathryn huffs. “You had me on speaker? Really Tyler?”
“What! I’m sending important emails and stuff, I can’t…”
Kathryn stops listening as she watches a strange man exit out of the elevator, striding fast up to her desk. “Excuse me, sir, can I help you?”
“Is that Mark’s office?” He asks, looking a little wild-eyed as he points to the door.
Befuddled, Kathryn lowers the phone and answers, “Uh, yes, I can--”
“Thanks,” the man says, cutting her off as he makes his way to Mark’s door.
**
.Present.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Mark, are you okay?” Jack asks, deeply shocked as he stretches a hand out to Mark, but Ryan gets in his way, looking ready to hit him again.
“Okay,” Jack says, sliding off the table to stand between them and faces Ryan. “Will you calm the fuck down for two seconds and explain what’s goin’ on?”
“Ask him,” Ryan says, not tearing his eyes away from Mark.
Mark, for his part, stays on the floor, his hand hovering over his bleeding nose and keeping his eyes down.
“Sir, please, you’ve gotta wait outs--” His secretary Kathryn walks in, then stops when she takes in the full scene.“Mark, oh my God…”
“It’s okay, Kathryn,” Mark says calmly, holding up his hand, “just… just close the door and cancel the meeting I’ve got this afternoon.”
“But,” Her eyes dart to all of them, panicked, before settling on Ryan. “But Mark…”
“I swear it’s fine,” Mark says, lifting himself up and looking at her imploringly. “Please.”
After a moment, Kathryn nods her head once and steps back out of the room, slowly shutting the door behind her.
Mark puts a hand on his desk and sighs, then winces as more blood gushes out of his nose.
Jack moves to help Mark again, but much to his frustration, Ryan pulls him back. Jack angrily shrugs him off and looks between the two. Mark is still staring at the floor, and Ryan - sweet, soft, never even so much as pushed anyone - Ryan, looks raring to kill.
“Okay,” Jack starts, “Fuckin’ one of you’s had better explain. Now,” he says through his teeth.
“Okay,” Ryan says, pacing in front of the desk, “What about it, huh, Mark? Tell Jack here how you fired Matt...”
“He quit,” Mark mumbles.
“...and why. Tell Jack how you revised the contract before faxing it to him, tell him what Bob told me,” he practically snarls.
It’s all too much for Jack to process at once. None of it sounds plausible. He closes his eyes and takes a step back. “Wait…” he says faintly.
“Tell him about the agreement, Mark,” Ryan says, his upper lip curling. “Tell him everything.”
Blood drips from Mark’s nose, staining his purple carpet, but he doesn’t bother to stifle it as he straightens and looks right at Jack.
“You, please… Jack, what you need to know first is that it’s… it’s really complicated.”
“Okay, got that,” Jack says stiffly, feeling frozen in place as tension rolls down his spine. “Explain the fucking rest of it.”
Mark shakes his head, looking pained as he says, “Jack…”
“What did you put in the contract, Mark?” Jack asks weakly.
“We didn’t add anything that wasn’t already there before,” Mark says, anguished, “it just… wasn’t as clear before.”
“Absolute contractual discretion,” Ryan chimes in, “There was more to it than that, and Bob can fill you in, but essentially, you and him on camera are a thing - outside of that however, it’s purely business,” Ryan looks at Jack at this, “Like a dirty secret.”
Jack knows Ryan’s on his side here, but right now he could actually fucking punch him in his smug face. “How can that be if we’re going to literally be fucking on camera?”
“That was all it was ever gonna be,” Ryan says, looking surprised at the vitriol Jack is aiming towards him. “He even has a beard all lined up and pretty.”
Mark doesn’t say anything to contest this, instead, avoiding Jack’s gaze, he reaches over and pulls a tissue out from the box on his desk to dab at his nose. His hands are shaking.
”That’s bullshit,” Jack says, though the uncertainty he feels comes through in his voice, “Right, Mark? It’s just another one of his pranks, right? Is that a blood-bag?”
Neither Mark or even Ryan say anything for a moment. The silence is damning enough. Jack feels like his heart is plummeting to his stomach. He shakes his head, squeezes his eyes shut a few times. “I have to get out of here,” he says, breathing fast.
Mark looks up at him, and Jack catches sight of his worried expression before he looks down again. He was hoping Mark would say something to stop him, but he just keeps dabbing at his nose.
Jack doesn’t remember walking out of the room. He doesn’t really hear what Ryan’s saying as he follows, barely recollects leaving the building, and he doesn’t speak until Ryan’s guided him into his car.
**
Tyler ran up as soon as Kathryn called, the panic in her voice was enough for him to forsake waiting for the elevator and just run up the stairs to Mark’s office. She looks at him when he arrives, she’s visibly shaken.
“You okay?” Tyler asks, and she nods, still clutching the phone as she points to the door left slightly ajar.
”Some guy ran in and-and hit Mark, and…” She trails off and Tyler takes her hand and guides her to her seat.
”It’s okay,” he says, “you’re okay. Is the guy still here?”
She shakes her head. “Just Mark, the man took off with that green-haired guy, but Mark won’t let me in - he told me to wait out here. I wasn’t sure if I should’ve called security...”
Tyler shakes his head, looking at Mark’s door. “I’m gonna go in, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine.”
Kathryn nods at him, taking a deep breath and settling into her chair.
Tyler knocks on the door, then, when there’s no response he turns the handle and finds it unlocked. He walks into the office, finding Mark sitting on the edge of his desk, holding bloody tissues. ”What the hell happened?” Tyler asks, quietly shutting the door behind him. “Kathryn said someone hit you?”
”It’s nothing,” Mark says, sniffling. He tugs at the lapels of his suit, does up a button he didn’t realise was undone. “Tell her not to worry… just... I need to go home for the day. Can you tell Goodwin I’ll call him tomorrow?”
Tyler looks at him incredulously. “How are you seriously saying “nothing happened” when there’s blood all over you? Dude, Kathryn is seriously freaking out out there - she said some crazy guy barged in and punched you, we have to call the cops--”
”Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is,” Mark cuts him off, suddenly frantic. “Tyler I... I fucked up okay? I just want to go home and… and I’ll call you tomorrow. I swear.
Tyler opens his mouth to protest, but Mark gives him a pleading look, and Tyler knows he’s not going to get anymore out of him. He nods and pats Mark on the shoulder.
”Just,” Tyler starts with a sigh, “Call me if you need anything, alright?”
Mark doesn’t say anything as he walks out of the room.
**
Ryan hasn’t stopped speaking since they got in the car. He’s anxious, Jack can tell. Ryan’s not used to physical confrontation. He’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. “God, we are suing that fucker,” he says.
Jack doesn’t say anything to that, just turns his head to stare out of his window. Nothing that happened seems real, his head hurts just trying wrap his mind around it.
“We're milking him for every dollar he's fucking worth - fucking Christ! The nerve of that asshole. You didn’t sign anything, right?” Ryan asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer before shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter, I spoke to Bob. There’s legal fucking precedent here - that asshole changed the terms without your knowledge, that contract is as good as void.”
“Fuck it felt good to hit him, part of me just wants to go back there and do it again.”
“Ryan,” Jack says again, more firmly this time. “I don’t. I can’t do this right now.”
“Jack, buddy, don’t even worry,” Ryan says, ignoring him. “We're going to bleed that fucker dry, god the fucking gall of that guy, to look all pathetic and heartbroke after what --”
”RYAN, Jesus enough already, okay?” Jack shouts, hitting the dashboard, “Just… just fucking shut up.”
Ryan gapes at him, then he turns the wheel and parks the car on the side of the road. “Alright, what the hell is your problem?”
”What’s yours?” Jack spits back, rubbing his palms into his eyes. “Christ, why’d you have to hit him?”
Ryan looks gobsmacked. “Are you serious? After the shit he pulled-- you expect me to just let that go--?”
Jack takes a deep breath, and says slowly, viciously, “I expect you to not make everything in my life a fucking spectacle - which is what you do! What you always do!” Jack doesn’t know where that came from, it’s not what he meant to say, but now that it’s out he can’t help but keep going. “Everything about me is some big fucking joke to you, Ryan. Did it ever occur to you to think about how I’d feel? Fuck’s sake, you know I actually care about Mark.”
“He lied to you,” Ryan says through gritted teeth, still holding tightly onto the steering wheel.
“And you punched him! But what do I get?” Jack shakes his head. “He betrayed me, alright? That is my pain, my life, and it’s for me to fuckin’ deal with. You could’ve gone in and talked to him like an adult, or better yet! Told me beforehand instead of blindsiding me, but no.” Jack undoes his seatbelt and grabs the door handle. “There’s not enough drama in that for you, so thanks. You’re a fucking great friend.”
Jack ducks out of the car and doesn’t listen to Ryan yelling after him. It’s not that far back to his apartment. He’ll walk.
Hii! I just read all your septiplier fics on ao3 and brojob os my favorite of alltime! Wanted to know how u write them so well? And how ďo you write porn ? Any tips for new author like me? Sorry for mistakes english is not my first language and on mobile
Aw nonny! This is so great ‘cause I never get the chance to talk about how I write stuff!
Warning! NSFW advice below, results may vary!
What I learned about writing porn is… not to do the whole 1-2-3 finger prep and bang and ~orgasm afterglow~ it’s been done a million times and it’s boring.
There’s nothing wrong with the formula, but how many times have you read something like this:
Character A slicked up his fingers and inserted one, then two, then three of his long digits into Character B’s quivering, chocolate starfish. Then, parting the handsome, probably blonde, B-named boy’s legs, he slipped his 12 inch, uncut, veiny, thick shaft into the cavernous mystery hole.
Then their eyes blacked out/ they saw stars/ their life flashed before their eyes as they orgasmed in unison like eight times.
The End, pls review I will literally blow you for a review. (✿◠‿◠)
Yeah, no. It’s boringly generic and could be about anyone. Writing sex like that puts the story to a stop and literally adds nothing of substance.
Here are some tips I follow to make a sex scene more interesting, and even to a non-sexual story:
Let your characters talk to one another! Whether it’s playful, angry, or shy, let them communicate in a way you think they would in whatever situation you’ve put them in.
Show don’t tell! Instead of saying Character A’s dick was 13.2 inches girthy, let them show that through touch. Maybe through the perspective of Character B wrapping his fingers around the length of A’s cock and not being able to close his hand around it.
Use big kid words! No to “rod”, no to “throbbing member”; say penis, erection, dick, prick. No to “chocolate starfish”or “winking chasm”; say hole, anus, rectum, pucker. If the characters you’re writing are old enough to have sex, then they’re old enough to say cock ffs.
Know your characters! Know how they speak, what little habits or tics they have, and if you don’t or aren’t sure then make some up! Maybe Character A taps his foot when he’s nervous, maybe B bites his nails and rubs his eyes a lot. Who knows! But keep it consistent and it can add a surprising amount of realism.
Make it matter! Sex is fun to write, but it can often be so generic that it’s one of the things people will often skip over when reading your story. Make it matter to the story and to the characters. It doesn’t matter if it’s only two paragraphs or one, but if it’s integral to the couple in your story, then don’t just make it a meaningless “this is the part where they fuck” blip in your story. Don’t make it easy for readers to skip over your sex scene- make it count.
It’s sex! Have fun with it, change it around, focus on foreplay or don’t, it’s all up to you!
WHAT WAS ON THE CONTRACT?! WHY DID RYAN PUNCH MARK!? DON’T LEAVE ME HANGING!! (I really loved your newest chapter and I’m so glad your continuing the porn au 😊💕)
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