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#I have a feeling - or it's just my sensibility and imagination
eriophorumcallitrix · 4 months
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ignore this post I’m venting my disappointment in the tags abt twitter LMFAOOO
#dude do you have any idea how fucking awful it feels to go on a social media site and have your favourite character just be constantly#shit on? like I’ve gotten attached in an autistic way to this fucker and now it’s legitimately made my mental health for the past few days#TANK. I used to go on twitter and see people be normal instead of being bombarded with hatred from every angle#and not to get me started on the fact that bad refuses to fucking say anything#like okay man! just let the hatred fester and let people who actually liked you turn on you because you made a stupid ass decision#it’s literally just a hostile fucking environment on one end and the other is in radio silence#im still so attached and I fucking hate it#I hate the motherfuckers on twitter and I hate bad being so goddamn silent#I hate the people defending him in places where he’s wrong and I hate the people who take every chance to twist his words#I love my mutuals who are sensible people#but I cannot fucking stand everything else#and sorry for being so upset when im shamed out of a special interest and what used to be a safe place for me#you motherfuckers have EVERYTHING. you have the numbers. the popular ships. you have people who will defend you#literally cannot have shit in this place#our fav is treated like shit and yours is praised to the high heavens#in and out of game he’s constantly fucking disrespected#can you even imagine how that feels to someone who gets so attached to a character and his dynamic that it influences their mental state#or is it just easier to play the Saint who is never wrong and will never be#I fucking hate what bad did and I’m disgusted that he’s still friends with that fucker#and I am still attached to his character and story#the shame is legitimately overwhelming#fuck it all. really and truly#and most of all fuck qsmptwt I cannot stand you motherfuckers#my mutuals and oomfs are obviously exempt from previous statement
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upgradebitch · 10 months
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girl i can’t do this and i don’t want to
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mphountitled · 6 months
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COULD U DO MATTHEO X F READER DURING HER OVULATION WEEK AND SHES SUPER NEEDY AND HORNY? (Pls I’m ovulating and craving ur fics so bad babe😭🙏🧎🏼‍♀️)
I love how feral this is lmfao -
𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐬 | 𝐌.𝐑.
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Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Established Relationship, Dark Fic, Violence, Language, Mention of drugs and alcohol, Slight fluff, Public Affections, Possessiveness, Smut (+18), Dirty Talk, Touch starvation, Fingering, Humping, Grinding, Whining, Sub/Dom Undertones, Blood Kink, Fighting Kink?, Squirting, Major Degradation, Praise Kink, Breeding Kink, Slight Humiliation Kink
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The night is deep, and the dungeon is dim as a few sunken eyes peer curiously at you while you make your way through the crowd. Seeing you emerge from within the walls of your private dorm room was a rare and curious sight for everyone involved. It was especially rare for you to embed yourself amongst your fellow pupils shenanigans, seeing yourself as above such baseless devilment.
You were not here for them.
You were scanning the crowd for him because an unfamiliar warmth had been festering inside your stomach and it had propelled your feet forward, until you reached the very centre of the Slytherin soiree commencing in the common room.
Your core is still aching with the after affects of your fingers as you manoeuvre your way through the party. You were touching yourself under satin sheets only moments ago-spurred on by the imaginings of his bloodied fingers slipping inside you, stabbing your cunt until you mewled like a useless whore and he affirmed you as such. His recklessness and delinquency cracked something vital in your brain and you felt yourself get wetter as you pushed through the crowd. You needed him to touch you, your body practically burned for him to absolutely ruin you, and you set out to do just that.
Although you had turned down a concoction of Firewhiskey from an already inebriated Ravenclaw student, your stomach burns with the anticipation of seeing him.
Feeling him.
Smelling his near constant fragrance of Firewhiskey along his lips. You were never clingy but you wished for nothing more than to be in the presence of your insufferable and clingy boyfriend.
A month into your courtship, and you had failed to bring up how much of his habits bypass all sensibilities in your brain. If only he knew how much his recklessness brought about an unmistakable moisture in between your thighs. That,coupled with his bruised and bloody knuckles, spurred on your need, especially during this time of the month.
It had been easy to maintain your composure throughout the rest of the month, effortless, even. Detachment and independence was a by-product of your personality, showing up in the way you shied away from Mattheo's public affections and always appearing uninterested in any of his verbal charms.
One such occasion; you had found him taking up purchase on your bed after an incredibly tiresome day as a Slytherin prefect.
"Make yourself scarce, Riddle. I'm not in the mood," He, of course, was delighted in your indifference- truthfully, he basked in it. Mattheo was somewhat of a masochist, craving the attention of someone so emotionally detached. The very second he noticed how unaffected you appeared with his shenanigans. He might as well have transfigured into a mermaid, because he was hooked.
"How easy you are to repel my affections," He said, letting a bandaged hand fall on his chest as he lay supine like a starfish on your Satin sheets, "How swiftly you deny my companionship-"
"Dont you have any orphans to torture?"
You mourn the past you... how indifferent she had been.
How utterly in control!
The bed dipped as he slithered closer, letting a hand rest on your shoulders as he began to knead the tense muscle there.
"Don't I get a 'How was your day, Riddle?' How did you sleep, Riddle? How did you acquire these bruises, Riddle, and I hope you looked hot doing it, Riddle" it was then that you glanced at the hand on your shoulder. Busted knuckles bred bloodied and broken skin. Riddle's hand was a smorgasbord of cuts and bruises that disappeared up his black, cotton sleeve shirt. You ignored the useless warmth knotting in your core as you continued to undo your shoelaces.
"I needn't ask you because I know you were in the centre of yet another degenerate fight," you had said, burying all the feelings of need amongst your usual, scholarly distractions.
"You love it"
"I hate it actually. It makes me question my affiliation with you.
"You say that princess, but you secretly love it"
You did love it, and right now, distracting yourself is not an option. You watch with bated breath as the object of your affections walks into the Slytherin common rooms. There are plenty of bodies swaying in the dungeons illuminated by various Ravenclaws who have casted Lumos
You see Riddle across the room, head thrown back while he nursed a cup of Firewhiskey. When his head comes back, he sees you too, he raises his cup and he pushes himself off the wall to lessen the distance between you. Your legs certainly achieve a quicker gait as you push past the swaying bodies and soon enough you're bombarded by firewhiskey, with an undercurrent of sweat and leather.
The second you’re close, Riddle lowers his cup on the desk, already having his explanations ready for the impending combat. "If you think I'm gonna let you take my freedom away again, you’re fucking crazy. I'm barely buzzed and I'm getting drunk, or high by the end of this night and there's nothing you-" But your fist is already digging into the softness of his button up shirt and your lips are open as you force them onto his.
Right there, in the open.
Mattheo is naturally stunned, possibly discombobulated.
Had he really gotten higher than he thought?
Did that fucking Hufflepuff make him a stepped on joint?
Frankly, he couldn't care less, and as the shock of it all wore down, and he could feel you begin to slip away, Mattheo slithers his battered hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He smirks into the kiss, as he brings his hand up, fingers gliding across your collarbone, while the other hand lingers around your waist.
"What happened to your hand?" It is a question that threatens to burst the bubble established between the two of you. Why would you ask him this? Why would you bring him back to the events of earlier today when you were so prettily malleable in his hands right now?
"Nothing,"
"Matt..." You say, clouding your words with innuendo, which has him looking up at you with furrowed brows.
"Nott," Is all he says before he buries himself in the crook of your neck. His proximity awakens something animalistic inside of you, it pushes you to the depths of your lascivious desires and has you melting right there on the dance floor. All around you, fellow Slytherins continue to sway to the beat, letting the thrum of the enchanted muggle music speak for them. You throw your head back, gasping at the overwhelming need pooling in your core as Riddle begins to send reckless kisses down your collarbone, all while you imagine beating another guy silly. You blame your cycle. You blame your body. You blame every single hormone responsible for allowing you to emit such a wanton moan so openly in the very centre of a crowd.
"Who do I have to kill in order to get this reaction out of you everyday?" Mattheo is panting, with his hazel eyes dilated (whether from pleasure or substance, you might never know). Who do I have to curse in order to get you to be this slutty for me every single day?" His breathing is shallow and audible, even through all the noise. Mattheo's mind is foggy and the party guests are reduced to a memory. The only image he's able to conjure up is his lips between your wet folds - his tongue eager to find the source of your need while you moaned above him and kneaded your own breasts in a slutty haze.
"I need you, Mattheo," it was fucking infuriating to admit but the wetness has completely soaked through your underwear and a fresh scar is present in the corner of Mattheo's eye. There's a slight red smudge under his nose, and his knuckles are red and angry at the best of your neck, cradling your head close to his.
"Say that again-"
"What? No, I will not fucking-"
Mattheo's grip on your neck immediately unhooks and he detangles your limbs but before he ventures any furthers you're pulling him down to you and with your lips to Mattheo's greedy ears you angrily mutter, "I fucking need you. I need you really badly,"
He stares in your desperate, dark eyes with wonder and awe before letting your wrist be enclosed by his iron grip. Soon, you're being dragged through a Slytherin party with a boy adjusting the front lf his pants and barking orders at the drunken strangers to move before they fucking died.
Just as you succeed in cutting through the crowd a voice stops both of you in your tracks.
"I'm going to fucking kill you, Riddle," the voice booms from over the thumping bass of whatever muggle music was enchanted over the dungeon. Mattheo's gaze cuts away from you, but before he turns completely away, a slow Cheshire cat grin curls at the ends of his lips.
"That threat has grown so unimaginably tedious after years of overuse, Theo but I can't do this right now-" His sentence has already been cut short by an audible blow to his lower jaw. Theo Nott blocked your path towards the darkened hallway, leading to your dorm room and you're left wholly unsatisfied as Mattheo is sent barreling backwards. He lets go of your hand, stopping to wipe the wetness at the corners of his lips and checking to see if it's blood. It is. And something scratches inside of you.
The Prefect inside you wants to intervene but an even darker part of you tells you not to.
Theo is livid, and his wide chest rises and falls as he descends on Mattheo,
"Why the fuck am I being told by Draco of all people, that I can't play Keeper because I'm stuck in the hospital wing-"
"Theo, I really don't have the time for this-" Mattheo begins, but Theo cuts him short,
"Are you trying to steal my fucking place, Riddle?"
Mattheo's voice is leveled as he raises his fingers and says, "Okay, first off, yeah, I am. Obviously I'm trying to take your place. You're a shit Keeper and secondly, I've got somewhere to be," Theo's barreling towards Mattheo once more.
A silly, borderline maniacal smirk explodes on Riddle's face before he makes the shotgun decision to charge and lands a punch at Theo's jaw, allowing for the taller boy to stagger backwards. Your shoulders jump, and you flinch at the sickening sound as you watch with a wide gaze as Mattheo nurses his hurt hand. Theo is a raging bull, but Draco appears from the crowd, with a firm grip on Theo's shoulder. A stern, quiet reprimand.
At the exact same moment, Mattheo's hand finds yours and he smirks as he stalks past Nott, wiping away at his chin as he leads you towards your dorm.
The quietness within is almost jarring compared to the noise out there and as soon as the door closes, Mattheo's lips descend on your neck, "I know, I know," He sighs heavily, as he brings his hand up to your shoulder, "I’m sorry. I just hope I haven't ruined the vibe-"
"I want your fingers inside me, Riddle." He stills at your quiet command, and you leave him standing by the door as you pad over to your bed. "I don't know why, but I just need you, okay? And my own fingers aren't quite doing the trick and I keep thinking about how fucking crazy you are and-", You sigh as you sit at the foot of the bed. Lifting the skirt of your dress, Mattheo watches in the dimness of your room as you venture your fingers under your dress and hook them into your panties. He walks towards you, propelling the wings of the butterflies in your stomach.
All he says is, "Which hand?" He doesn't know why he asks, but he does and his voice is barely above a whisper as he hopes you pick the right answer. His cock twitches in his underwear at the thought of seeing his blood on your skin.
Mattheo stops in between your legs, causing the fabric of the dress to rise while a breeze drifts over your soaked pussy. You bend forward and reach for his bloodied hand.
"I want your fingers inside me,"
Mattheo's resolve immediately snaps and his hands grip tightly at your hips, pushing you backwards and exposing your wet core to him.
"You're fucking dripping through the sheets like a slut- you're a fucking slut,"
Excitement. It rushes through you like a wave of magma at the neediness in his own voice.
Matheo rushes to rid both of you of the excess fabric, casting Evansco, until all he can see is your warm, glistening skin.
"Oh my fuck-" Mattheo's voice cracks as he stares down at your aching cunt, his fingers almost instinctively rubbing over the wetness.
"Touch your breasts," He commands, "I wanna see you do it,"
Your eyes pierce into his dark ones as you bring a shaky hand up towards your puckered nipples. The smallest brush elicits a violent streak of pleasure which would have occupied your entire mind were it not for Mattheo's long fingers already stabbing into your dripping cunt.
"Fuck, you're so wet," He whines, unconsciously burying his hips into the sheets at the foot of your bed as he watches. He is utterly transfixed by his middle and ring finger disappearing into your cunt. Every time they sink deeper your mind gets filled with images of Riddle's unrest and violence. You're utterly wrecked with the thought of his bloodied fingers being inside you, touching the most private parts of you.
"Pick up the pace, Riddle,"
"Shut the fuck up," He mumbles as he takes his time in exploring the very depths of you. Your voice soars to higher octaves as you feel your first orgasm cresting quite literally against your will. How utterly embarrassing, to cum so quickly.
"You're fucking squeezing my fingers- fuck-" You're desperately humping at his hand, hoping your hips might achieve the feat of sinking his fingers further into you. "You're humping my hand so fucking well." His cock aches as he continues to grind it into the sheets, in tandem with your swollen cunt taking his fingers.
"Are you seriously going to cum so soon? Are you that desperate to get fucked-" Your cunt spasms around his fingers and you're moaning as you squeeze your sensitive breasts, already soaring to the heights of your orgasm. Your screams rival the music outside but Riddle never tells you to keep quiet, instead he watches with hungry eyes as your body melts into its orgasm.
"Look at what the fuck you've done," Mattheo's words have you slowly coming back to earth, but not quite... his voice is heavy with lust as you raise yourself by your elbows. Your stomach sinks as you watch Mattheo, he's frozen in front of you, with his head lowered and his gaze on his palm.
"I-I'm sorry-" Your sheets were soaked with your release, leaving a visible damp spot. You squirted everywhere.
"You're gonna do that on my cock," before you can comprehend your words Mattheo already has his cock positioned at your wet folds.
"I'm going to fucking cum inside you and you're going to take it, yeah?" The serious shadow in his darkened eyes hold no room for negotiation, you'd never seen Mattheo quite this serious because seriousness just didn't run in his bloodstream. However, he's utterly ruined by your neediness, needing to take advantage of your compliance before it slipped through his fingers.
"Oh my fuck- Mattheo!"He pulls your hips towards the edge of the bed and his cock forces itself through your folds, until Mattheo is quite literally fucking you with reckless abandon.
"Matt- I can't-'' You're still riding on the sensitivity of your previous high and you think Mattheo could be a little mindful of this but his goal, it seems, is to leave you overstimulated.
"You can," he mumbles, with his eyes squeezing shut before he quickly opens them, wanting to see every emotion flowing over your face.
"You're a slut but you're not a useless slut, are you?" You tits bounce with every movement of Mattheo's hips, and you're shaking your head despite the fog. Your cunt is squeezing the life out of his cock and you feel him pushing at a very sensitive part of you.
Your head is buried in the pillows as your back arches and you swallow him deeper.
Mattheo bends forward, his hips quickening into a needy, restless rut as his teeth sink into the skin around your nipples.
"FUCK-" The pain bleeds into pleasure which streams into your next orgasm. Riddle moans around your skin, suckling at your nipple while he fucked you like he is as touch starved as you are.
"I'm cumming, Matt-" The fact that you're still able to form words is a complete and utter mystery because, not a second later, you're exploding around his cock. A gushing, clear liquid rushes through you while your lips chant his name like a prayer.
"I'm going to fucking breed you, baby- oh fuck, you're so pretty squirting around my cock-" the cracks in his voice; the desperation laced on every word has him cumming inside you, pushing his hips with every spurt of warmth.
You're still shuddering when Mattheo slumps over you. You're both huffing and puffing and basking in each other's release with his cock still very much inside you. "You're getting a contraception potion from Madame Pomfrey tomorrow," you can do nothing except nod as your satisfaction settles.
"I'll come with you," He says.
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redflagshipwriter · 29 days
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Mamabat- enter Jason 1/2
MASTERPOST
The air was different with Cass, now. Danny felt a little anxious as he followed her to the study after breakfast. Something about her was serious-determined-protective. 
She always felt protective towards him. That was why he'd followed her in the first place. Some ghosts lied, but they couldn't do it with their aura. He knew what she really felt for him. 
“Sit?” She asked him. She gestured at the big squashy chair. Danny did without complaint. Cass perched behind him and started dragging her fingers through his hair, relaxing him.
Man. She was good at this. Top tier mothering, right here. Danny went limp. 
“I'm worried,” Cass broke the silence. She didn't sound worried. She never really did. Her voice was quiet and serious, but still kind. Her thumbs dug into his scalp. He pushed his head back against it. Bliss. “Barbara made you sad. Because you miss your sister?”
Danny tensed. 
‘I should have figured that Batman would track me down.’
Maybe he had known, if he was honest with himself. It didn't hit him like a shock.
“Tim thinks your name is Fenton,” she added, brutally sensible as always. And yup, that was it. No point in denying it. “Declared dead. In danger?”
He sucked in air through his teeth. He wasn't going to lie to her. 
“Worried,” she repeated. 
He thought about it. He really did. Danny bit his lip. 
She was liminal. That probably meant she'd come really close to death, in at least one sense of the word. Would that mean she was desensitized to it, or extra paranoid?
…It was hard to imagine Cass over or under reacting to a possible danger. She was just so steady. But would she see him as a possible danger if she knew what he was, what he really was? 
He could feel it out before he took a plunge with the whole truth.
Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was invasive. She didn't seem to realize that she was liminal. That meant she definitely didn't realize how much she was communicating to him under her words and gestures. 
But Danny deliberately tuned into her quiet aural communication and tested the waters. “Tim is right, I'm Danny Fenton,” he said. He knew he was too tense. She would definitely feel it. But what could he do about that? He was nervous. “I… Maybe I did die.”
Her heart dropped to her stomach. He could feel the crush of grief on her heart. 
But it didn’t wash away the thudding repetition of love-protect-my darling. There was no suspicion, no guilt, no fear. It was just pain for his sake, with no calculation about how to solve a sudden problem. 
God. He wanted so badly for that to have been how his parents reacted. His eyes started to sting.
Danny sniffled. He thought it was safe to tell her. “I died,” he corrected, and he knew he was right when Cass made a little wounded sound and leaned her body into him, aiming to comfort. “Not then, but a couple years ago. I’m different now, and it’s uh… It’s dangerous to be this way.”
“Affects?” Cass asked quietly. She started to pet his hair again. “Mood? Health?”
“...Huh,” he said, because that was a sensible question he hadn’t expected. If he really thought about his mood and emotions before and after the accident: “Yeah, uh, there’s sometimes a mood thing. I might be a little more aggressive than I was before? And I can get kind of intense sometimes.”
He had thought that was basically just a reaction to having a whole bunch of new threats in his life. But would pre-electrocution Danny have been able to actually stand and fight Skulker? He had genuinely been afraid of the jocks. Maybe… Maybe he was different. Sure, Sam and Jazz were up for shooting ghosts with Fenton tech. Would he have been if he was just human? 
…He didn’t really think so.
Oof. Well, that wasn’t exactly great for his sense of self.
Cass shook him lightly. “Health?” she repeated.
Danny forced down that revelation to deal with later. He didn’t like acknowledging that he was kind of a chicken by nature, but historically, there wasn’t much evidence of bravery pre-mortem. “Uh, my heart rate is really slow, body temp is low, so I can’t really afford to go to a doctor for a checkup,” he said. “Uh, sometimes I’ve got none at all and my hair turns white.” He paused there. That was- that was enough, yeah? He was going to be honest with her because she deserved honesty from him. But that didn’t mean he had to explain the whole great beyond and his inhuman status.
“Sounds like Jason,” Cass said, after a long silence.
Danny short-circuited. “Wait, what?” He craned to look at her. “Who?”
Cass darted forward to kiss his forehead. “Little brother,” she said cheerfully. “Want to meet him?”
Uh, yeah. Danny nodded vigorously, wondering what the hell she was on about. “Do you mean he died?” 
“Died,” Cass agreed, getting out her phone and tapping away at it rapidly.
“Not like, heart stopped for a minute on the operating table and he was revived, or what?” Danny pressed.
“Dead in the ground, came back later,” Cass said. “Dead for months. Now, very crabby.”
Danny balked. “What?”
“White hair too,” she said. Then her face did something funny. “I think he dyed it recently,” she said. 
Danny huffed a laugh. “If it’s the same thing as mine, you can’t dye it.” He saw her look over his head for white streaks. He didn’t correct her line of thought.
He hadn’t thought that anything could top the anticipation of meeting Batman. But Danny had to admit the rest of the day was a wash. Apparently Jason couldn’t make it until the evening, about an hour before patrol.
Danny nearly paced a line into the carpet. He had enough energy to do that now, even without ecto. He was getting soooo much food here. A guy couldn’t even stress out for an hour without someone coming by to make sure he had fruit and yogurt or a hot drink.
He didn’t need someone to come and tell him that the much anticipated Jason had shown up. Danny knew it when he went to take a sip of cruelty-free chocolate milk (hand delivered by the most frightening child in the world) and choked on vapor.
Damian gave him a glare and snatched the drink away. “Are you incapable of drinking beverages?” he demanded. His face looked so goddamn cross but he was just worried.
Danny managed a smile. “No, went down the wrong pipe, sorry.”
Damian didn’t seem to even see the fog, so- so that meant that either he was really unobservant or he wasn’t liminal enough to see it the way people did in Amity. That was a small blessing. Danny appreciated it and he took back his drink to have something to hold onto.
That was a whole ass ghost. That was a whole ghost coming onto the property, one that felt big and mad and old. Danny smacked his lips, disconcerted. 
He, uh, didn’t know what to expect from this.
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corrodedcorpses · 8 months
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Steve “cant control his boners” Harrington getting so turned on by you in a bikini at the lake he has to find a spot behind a tree to jackoff
(Anon thank you so much for this. This is the first thing I’ve finished in months AND my first ever Steve fic without Eddie 🥺🖤)
18+ MDNI
Oh my mind instantly went to slightly Perv!Steve
He totally didn’t overhear you and your friends talking about going to the lake this weekend at lunch on Friday and it’s absolutely a coincidence that he happens to run into you and your friends while he’s out there “to take a dip, take his mind of things, get back with nature” and whatever other smooth line falls from his lips as he gives you his trademark flirty Harrington smirk, running his fingers through his hair in a way he knows you love.
It’s all going great for Steve, he’s chatting you up, making you blush and giggle, you’re both in your own little world, until your friends interrupt you both. Teasing you two about actually going for a swim, you know, the reason you all came here in the first place.
That’s when things start to get a little harder for Steve.
He watches you shimmy out of your shorts, your ass bouncing slightly and he swears his jaw must be on the floor. Your bikini bottoms hugging your curves perfectly, slightly digging into the plush of your ass. Whatever blood had rushed to Steve’s cheeks quickly goes south as you rip your shirt over your head, your boobs jiggling as you do, your bikini top digging in just as much as your bottoms.
You look at Steve expectantly and he realises he’s still fully clothed.
“Oh, I-um,” Steve starts to stutter, shit. He has to get out of here, he can feel his pants tightening by the second and knows he’s going to be nothing but a stuttering mess and very ‘un-smooth’, if he stays.
He mumbles out some half assed excuse about “the time getting away from him” or “forgetting something important he has to do”, honestly he’s not really sure as he turns on his heels and quickly makes his way back through the forest, leaving you staring at him confused as you watch him leave. You don’t have time to mull over it too much when you hear your friends calling your name as you turn and start to walk into the lake.
Steve stops a little bit into the forest, ducking behind a tree and resting his back against it as he screws his eyes shut, throwing his head back against it as he curses himself. He fully intends to get back to his car at least before taking care of his problem but he knows he’s not going anywhere when he hears the half giggle - half squeal that you let out as your friend splashes you, the sound making his dick twitch.
He groans as he cups and squeezes himself through his shorts. He ducks out from behind the tree, moving a couple of trees over so he can get the perfect view of you while still being concealed by the trees.
Steve quickly shoves his shorts down enough to free himself, his cock slapping his stomach as he quickly spits on his palm before he tightly wraps his fingers around his cock. The sight before him has all sensible thoughts leaving his head, not even caring at this moment if anyone happens to walk past him.
You’re in the lake up to your thighs, goosebumps erupting on your skin as the cold water laps around you, your skin slightly glistening from when your friends must have splashed you.
He follows the water droplets as they run down in between your breasts. He has to bite down on his fist to stop from moaning as he swears he can see your hard nipples through your bikini top.
You move further into the water, Steve’s hand speeding up slightly frustrated as he loses sight of some of your body.
He makes a frustrated sound when you dip under the water but audibly gasps when you pop back up, your hair wet and your head tilted back. He imagines being on his knees in front of you, getting to taste you as you throw your head back exactly like that.
That thought has precum dripping down his cock and mixing with his saliva as he feels his stomach tighten, the image so vivid in his head he swears he can almost taste your juices on the tip of his tongue. He’s embarrassingly close already, his hips rutting into his fist as he very softly whines your name over and over again.
You shiver again, wrapping your arms around yourself, causing your boobs to squish together, accentuating your cleavage perfectly and oh god he’s going to cum already.
Steve can’t get the image of cumming all over your boobs out of his head as he feels himself make a mess all over his hand and the leaves and sticks below him.
He softly whines and groans as he cums harder and faster than he has in a long time. His mind only filled with thoughts of you.
Realisation hits Steve like a truck as he opens his eyes to see the mess he’s made. He curses as he quickly tucks himself back in his pants, wiping his hand on a nearby bush and his shorts before quickly dashing back to his car without looking back. Shaking his head at himself as he mumbles about being such an idiot to himself.
But, if he had looked back at you he would’ve seen you staring right at his not so inconspicuous hiding spot with a satisfied smirk on your face.
(Tagging some mutuals that might be interested @wroteclassicaly @andvys @littledemondani @usedtobecooler @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddiemunsonspantschain @screammunson @ilovecupcakesandtea @mysticmunson @cursedyuta @ghost-proofbaby @munsonsgirl71 @pxrxcxa @solarluvs )
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cheolhub · 9 months
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MEANT TO BE YOURS — JEON WONWOO ࿐
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summary. lying to your boyfriend about being sexually experienced has you stressed beyond belief. it’s a good thing your roommate— aka your best friend— is always there to help you out of every sticky situation.
wc. 7.2k+
warnings. [PLEASE READ THESE!] slight yandere themes (tame obsession, possessiveness, mentions of k1lling reader’s bf, etc.), corruption kink, virginity loss, f. masturbation, cheating (don’t do this), perv!wonu, NEEDY, DESPERATE dom!wonwoo, fingering, heavy praise, pet names (a lot ^^), very light degradation, so much dirty talk (literal filth), unprotected sex, size kink (if u blink, u miss it), kinda angsty ending (oops) — MINORS DNI 18+
note. ok so it’s finally here :p a few things— happy birthday wonwoo, my beloved <3 thank u keir @jeonghantis for reading this over for me, always reassuring me and being my literal rock. i luv u so so much ^^ lastly, this contains cheating which i do NOT condone, nor do i want to glamorize it. it’s simply for the sake of the plot. oj that’s all <3 i worked hard so pls enjoy it >< (if u dont, u should just lie to me anyway)
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you were perfect. so sweet and so innocent. you were a doll in the eyes of wonwoo, with skin so smooth against his calloused hands and a smile so perfect, he can’t help but melt at the sight of it. 
his adoration for you was obviously in moderation, he’s a sensible man after all. it’s not like he’d stand over you while you sleep and watch the way your barely-clothed chest rises up and falls down so enticingly or fuck his fist and imagine it’s your tight-virgin cunt milking him for all he’s worth or steal a pair of lace panties and absolutely ruin them. you’re his best friend not to mention his roommate. he can’t do things like that— it’s wrong. 
so why does it feel so fucking good to imagine how sweet your moans would sound while he fucks you senseless, “wonwoo! wonwoo!”
wonwoo maintains his cool even in the most unfavorable moments. when you leave your shared bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around your chest, when you walk around in silky night shorts, when you press your tits flush against him every time you give him a hug— it’s too much sometimes. 
he can't be angry, though, it’s not like you know any better. 
just like how you don't know how loud you’re being when you have one dainty little finger shoved inside your sopping pussy. he watches through the tiny crack of your door with his bottom lip lodged between his teeth, just slight of drawing blood. he sees how your eyes are screwed shut and your back is arched as you inconsistently try to fuck a single finger in and out of you. 
the room is filled with desperate huffs and moans, bouncing between the four walls of his old gaming room; it all rushes straight to wonwoo’s cock. 
you sound so needy and he can tell you’re growing frustrated at the lack of results. you’re craving release, he can tell– 
and he wants to help you. so bad.
he has to, right? that’s his job as a dutiful best friend— taking care of his pretty girl. plus, it’s not like he’s really doing anything wrong. he likes to think he’s just doing you a huge favor. 
he steps away from the door before knocking quietly, hearing the halt in moans and jostling of the white bedsheets he’s memorized the scent of. he stifles a laugh, imagining how hot your face must be knowing that you’re easily flustered. 
“just a second!” you pant and he’s so caught up in thought that he almost misses your soft voice, “okay…you can come in.” it’s as if you’re embarrassed, but you have no reason to be. it’s just him, your roommate. your best friend. your wonwoo. 
he finds that he was right. as soon as he walked in, he noticed your embarrassed face and he could almost feel the heat radiating from your body.
“won?”
his cock throbs in his loose plaid pajama pants at the name you had given him ages ago. “Y/N, i-i just wanted to check on you… heard noises when i was passing by your room,” 
“oh…” you mumble, gripping the comforter covering your body. you’re sheepish, shrugging at his concern. “thought you were out with gyu.” 
your words are barely audible. you’re too humiliated to tell him what you were doing and, not to mention, how you were probably, most likely doing it incorrectly. 
“nah,” he shakes his head, reverting the conversation back to the massive elephant in the room. “anything on your mind?” he tries, moving to sit on the bed next to you.
you sigh, cracking the unfazed facade you wore. tears form on your lash line; you’re beyond embarrassed. mortified, if you will. this is probably the worst possible thing to happen in all your years of living. 
no, this is the worst thing to happen to you in all your years of living– nothing will ever beat you getting caught masturbating incorrectly by your best friend. 
“wonwoo…” you sniffle and he immediately stiffens at the unanticipated sound. “i just… my… boyfriend wants to start doing stuff with me and i lied ‘n told him that i’ve done stuff before, but i haven’t ‘n—“
“hey…breathe, Y/N,” he shushes, reaching over to wipe the tears from your eyes. as much as he’s concerned with your feelings, he can’t help but pause—boyfriend? since when did you have a fucking boyfriend? he knew you were going on dates and meeting guys, and of course he didn’t like it, but he thought they were flings that would eventually fizzle out. why wasn’t he aware of this dick? his chest bubbles with newfound jealousy and discontent. without a doubt, he’d kill the first ill-mannered fucker he saw put his hands on you. 
however, he plays dumb to hide the fact. “what type of stuff are we talking about?” 
you bite back a whine, a small pout forming on your face, “you know what stuff, won, don’t make me say it.” 
he chuckles, airily, shaking his head. yes, of course he knows, but he wants to hear you say it. wants to hear you say filthy things with your innocent voice that he simply can’t get enough of. “i don’t know what you’re going on about. for all i know, we could be talking about drugs,” 
you let out a giggle, playfully smacking his shoulder. “no!” you tell him and he gives you an expectant look. one that screams tell me.
your laughter dies down and you fall silent for a few seconds. you inhale sharply, “wonwoo… he… he wants to have sex with me,” you mutter, completely catching him off guard. “and i lied about having experience… i’ve never even touched myself,” you say unwarranted, feeling your cheeks heat up in mortification once again. you hide your face in your hands after exposing yourself to your more-mature, experienced best friend. “god, i’m such a loser,”
“hey, don’t say that. there’s nothing wrong with being inexperienced. none of that’s important if you love someone.” the same way he loves you. “plus, a lot of guys like inexperienced girls.” he murmurs, mostly speaking for himself, though the only inexperienced girl– girl, in general– he likes is you. 
a sigh escapes your lips at his words, “but… i don’t wanna be inexperienced. i wanna know what i’m doing and how to do it right…i wish i was more like you,” you frown, removing your hands to look at him, confusion prevalent on his face. “you seem like you’re so good at everything when it comes to… that…kinda stuff…”
his throat dries, “h-how would you even know that?”
“well, i mean…you’re not exactly the quietest, wonwoo,” 
wonwoo is shocked, honestly. he knew he had a handful of hookups and one night stands, but he never thought you would’ve known that. 
besides, he always imagined them to be you riding him, crying for him. as much as he loves getting his dick wet, he would never see another girl again if it meant even one chance with you. 
it's a stretch. a big one, but if he could give you the earth, he would– in a single heartbeat with no hesitation whatsoever. “well… then do you want me to maybe… show you? what it’s like…? give you a good first experience?”
your body freezes and your eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights. sure, you’ve always found your best friend attractive, but you figured that couldn’t be helped. you knew you never had a chance, not when he had an endless line of girls who would do anything for just one night with him. 
wonwoo is the definition of womanizer, he always has been. for as long as you could remember, girls would throw themselves at him and praise him like he was some kind of god. in some ways, you thought he was.
in all fairness, he was gorgeous and tall and strong. a catch, as some girls would say. he smelled good, too. so good it makes your head spin and your body flood with heat. and he had that rare smile– the one he’d only show the ones he loved– and it was blindingly beautiful. it was a smile that made you feel blessed. a smile that made you feel lucky because you were always on the receiving end– wonwoo always smiled at you.
he never pursued as many girls as you thought he would have. you always figured that’s what guys liked– all of the girls fawning over them– but wonwoo was so different. he didn’t like the attention that much, but, unfortunately for him, that’s what comes with being as handsome as he is. 
you knew he was out of your league. he was everything a girl would want and what were you in a sea of girls? a sea of girls with loads of experience and confidence, for that matter. 
you were just lucky to have him in your life because he really was such a good friend. he’s always been so protective of you since he met you all those years ago through a mandatory math tutoring session. nothing could ruin the image you have of him– not even the ear-splitting moans of the girls he fucks. you want nothing but for him to be your friend forever. 
and maybe you have imagined… once or twice… what it would be like to be one of the obnoxiously loud girls in his bed, but that didn’t mean you wanted it… did it?
you try to play it off to see if he was pulling another one of his typical stunts on you. “wonwoo, this isn’t funny—“
“i‘m being serious,” he says so earnestly, leaning into you, the proximity between the two of you quickly closing. you feel like you should pull back, tell him to stop, kick him out— anything— but you just can’t. “lemme help you, sweetheart… i‘ll show you how to feel good,” his minty breath fans over your face.
your body twitches, feeling a soft pulse in your lower region when the familiar pet name falls from his lips. your pace of breath quickens along with your heartbeat. 
“is…isn’t this wrong?” you ask. you want to scold your brain for wanting to do this with your best friend whom you live with. not to mention the fact that you also have a boyfriend.
yes, you think, this is totally and completely wrong. 
he shakes his head, “it’s not, promise, ‘m just helping a friend out… only if you’ll let me,” his voice hushes to a whisper as his hand pulls the comforter off your body, a large hand moving to take a hold of your waist, the other on your bare thigh extremely close to the thin pink fabric of your absolutely-soiled panties. 
you’re left panting at the little contact, skin itching for even more. “wonwoo…” you whisper and it’s absolutely desperate. “wonwoo, w-what will i tell him?”
he feels his blood boil and he has to keep from snapping at the mere mention of that son of a bitch. he doesn’t even know him and, even still, he wants to bash his head in. “you don’t have to tell him anything,” he responds to you sweetly despite how angry and desperate he is. 
you won’t have to do a thing. he’ll take care of everything for you, especially that boyfriend of yours.
you contemplate your options, but it’s getting harder to have a coherent thought with his warm hand being so incredibly close to your needy pussy. 
wonwoo is just helping you, he even said it himself. if anything, he’s getting you out of the sticky situation you made for yourself. 
and so you nod your head, whimpering out the words. “okay wonwoo… please help me,”
unbeknownst to you, wonwoo was hoping you’d say that. hoping you’d let him help you stretch you out (not for your boyfriend, but for him). help you take his cock. help you cum all over him and corrupt your pretty body. he’ll help you leave your boyfriend and realize that wonwoo is all you’ll need. all you’ll want. all you’ll know. he’ll help you, his best friend, his pretty girl, his fucking dream. 
your words trigger something in his brain and it’s all he needs before closing the gap between the two of you. the way he practically pounces on you and slots your lips together, it’s similar to a predator going after its prey.
it’s apparent you’re not as skilled as him as your lips struggle to keep up, whimpering at how rough he was being. you open your mouth a little bit to tell him to slow down, but instead, he pushes his tongue inside and explores the warmth and wetness of your mouth. 
and he can’t slow down. he can usually keep his composure and control himself, but you don’t even know how long he’s been waiting for this moment. if only you knew the perverted things your best friend had done without your knowledge, there’s no way you’d let him anywhere near you. he can’t stop, tongue inspecting every inch of your mouth until he feels your hands press flat against his chest in an attempt to push him away.
your swollen lips turn into a pout staring into his eyes filled with hunger and desire. “won,” you say, a lilt to your angelic voice. fuck, is all wonwoo can think as he finally realizes how hard and leaky his cock is after all this time. “can’t keep up…”
he almost feels bad, but every time he feels remorse it’s overshadowed by the burning desire to hear you, feel you, see you cum… just for him, not your silly little boyfriend, that fucking asshole. he needs you to be his. 
“‘m sorry, pretty girl,” he pants, hands inching up your upper thigh. “i‘ll slow down, yeah?” his voice drips with desperation and, god, you feel your pussy flooding with more of your warm arousal. 
you nod, leaning into him again, pressing a kiss against his lips. his lips are soft as they mold into yours, nothing like what you’re used to. you couldn’t even compare wonwoo’s lips to anything– not even your boyfriend. 
you feel heat course your veins. everything is so hot, the room feels like it’s on fire. when did it get so hot? you want to hide in his neck, in your pillow, in something, but wonwoo gives you no room to be shy. 
the intrusive thoughts are cut short when you feel his warm hand slide into your panties, a deep gasp escaping your lips. his fingers quickly find your hardened clit, untouched and desperate for attention. the initial touch has shockwaves jolting through your body and you swear you won’t be able to survive anything more than that. 
you part your lips from him as his two fingers rub swift circles into your clit, timid whines and moans erupting from your chest and your eyes practically taped shut as you feel his burning gaze on your face. it’s when your hips unintentionally begin to move, grinding into his hand, softly moaning his name out, “wonwoo!” that he loses it. 
“fuck,” he mutters, removing his hand and watching your face of pleasure turn into complete shock. he ignores your whiny protests, gently pushing you to lay on your back. “shhh, baby, trust me. gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, don’t you worry.”
his hands peel the panties off you, rolling them off your legs and inspecting them– they’re new. you don’t need to know that he knows, though. especially since he is the reason you needed to get more.
nonetheless, he tosses them to the side. you’re sure if your judgment wasn’t clouded by the new overwhelming craving you have for pleasure, your body would burn in humiliation due to being exposed to your best friend. the same best friend who’s always been there for you and seen you at your very worst, yet continues to be there for you when you need him. 
with hearts in his eyes, he stares at your glistening cunt, “jesus christ,” he murmurs, “prettiest fucking pussy in the world, might have to keep you all to myself.” he knows the words are going through one ear and out the other, but the way you moan and arch your back for a single touch eggs him on.
“wonwoo,” you whimper softly. 
“yes, baby, what do you need?” he knows exactly what you need. you need him to rub your clit, press his fingers into your tight pussy and open you up, and you especially need him to tell you how well you’re doing– he fucking knows, but he needs to hear you say it. he needs your pretty little mouth to tell him. 
you pant, pussy getting wetter by the second solely off the pet names and wonwoo’s voice alone. “need you to help me like you promised… please help me…”
and he can’t resist when you sound so needy. he’s 99% sure he could cum untouched just at the sight of you under him with tears in your eyes while you beg for him to touch you. you’re so perfect, so so perfect and he doesn't understand how no one has taken you away from him yet. 
“you want my fingers, sweetheart? want me to help you open up this pretty cunt for my cock?” he asks hotly, leaning in closer to your body. 
you gasp at his words, your leaky hole clenching around nothing. “god, yes, yes, wonwoo, yes,” you nod your head vigorously, shyness fleeing your body as you're taken over by pure need. “please gimme your fingers.”
he smirks at your words and his dick twitches at the request. he knows this moment will replay in his head during every second of the day till he can have you like this again. 
“good girl,” he whispers, pressing a peck to your swollen lips and keens when you chase him for another with a whimper. “brace yourself for me… might sting a little, but it’ll feel really good after a while. tell me if you need me to stop, hmm?” 
you nod your head, stomach swirling with endless amounts of anticipation. the calloused pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing into it once more. you figure it’s to distract you from the feeling of his lengthy digit pressing into your hole.
a whine erupts from your throat at the tiny stretch that stings throughout your body. you take a deep breath, trying to relax as wonwoo pushes the finger in and out at a slow and steady pace. 
“doing so well for me, pretty. promise it’ll feel good when you get used to it,” he reassures with a tight-lipped smile as if he’s getting ready to burst at any given moment. 
that’s probably because he is. watching your tight pussy swallow his finger and wrap so nicely around him has him reeling. he thinks about what it’d be like to watch his cock disappear inside of you, for your velvet walls to wrap around him like you were made just for his cock. 
luckily, the sting fades away sooner than you thought it would, just as wonwoo had promised. your tiny whimpers of pain were soon replaced by pleasured moans, and he can tell that you’re ready for more of his fingers. 
he pulls out his middle finger to bring two of them together. you gasp in surprise feeling the pads of his two fingers circle at your entrance before they push their way inside of you. 
it hurts more than the first finger, you have to admit, but you take him in easily with the amount of arousal that pools out of your pussy. you pant, whines dying on your tongue as you feel the burning stretch. you don’t tell him to stop, though, not like you’d want to. 
wonwoo’s close to losing it. he can feel the way you clench around his fingers, almost like you're trying to push him out but suck him in at the same time. you’re so fucking tight and he thinks he must be in heaven. you’re the last thing he deserves, yet here you are, swallowing his big fingers in your pretty, virgin cunt. 
he gradually spreads his fingers, opening you up and the experimental move has you moaning. “that feel alright?” he asks almost breathlessly. 
you give him a broken nod, “feels weird… b-but good.” you attempt to inform. 
you’re sheepish for a few minutes as he’s slowly scissoring his fingers inside of you, but the question comes out before your hazy mind can fully comprehend. “c-can you try three?” it comes out a bit slurred and timid, but wonwoo understands. he completely understands. 
he wants, so badly, to fuck you stupid. to the point where you don’t know how to speak. he wants to call you his greedy slut for wanting more even though it makes him see red. he opts out, though, not wanting your first time to be tainted with degrading words because he knows you’re  good. a good girl just for him. no one else. 
“oh, baby,” he coos, body filling with even more need. he presses his ring finger inside of you and basking in your cry all the while purring, “you’re doing so fucking well for me.”
you involuntarily clench at his words, back slightly arching off the bed as you moan. “wonwoo.”
he lets out a guttural moan at the sound of his name on your tongue. it’s the way he’s heard it in his dreams, the dreams where he’s ruining you for everyone else. 
wonwoo knows he’s crazy, trust, he knows. he understands the way he feels about you is abnormal, but fuck, right now? he feels absolutely, postively insane. 
“god, you’re so gorgeous,” he whispers, his mind slowly drifting. “so fucking pretty taking my fingers like this, taking ‘em like a champ.”
he thrusts his fingers into you with ease, stretching you effectively while being sure to rub at your sweet spot. he watches them disappear and reappear at your opening while also stealing glances at your scrunched up face. you’re such an angel.
after a while, the burning sting leaves and you’re left with an immense pleasure. you didn’t think it would get any better, but there’s an unfamiliar pressure building in your tummy and you feel the need to clamp down on his digits. it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before and you swear you’re on the brink of pure ecstasy. 
“wonwoo… wonwoo,” you gasp, hand blindly searching for his wrist as your eyes screw closed. “f-feels…weird… fuck! wonwoo!”
and wonwoo jus can’t. he can’t let you cum like this for the first time, it would be a crime. when you cum for the first time, he needs it to be on his cock.
he hates himself for doing so, but his movements stop. you gasp loudly, “no, no, no!” you cry out, tears forming in your eyes. you were so close, but it was unfairly taken away from you in a matter of seconds. “no, no, please keep going, please!”
“i want your first time to be on my cock, sweetheart, want you to remember it that way.” he says with his voice low. so low you can hear the beautiful rasp of his voice. “you want that don’t you? you want my cock, yeah?” 
you nod profusely, face heating up at his words and the way he articulates them. “y-yes… i do.” you mumble. 
“that’s a good girl.”
you moan at the praise, hips bucking up again as he stands to slip off his loose pjs. when they fall, his hard cock slaps against his covered abdomen and you feel your heart skip a beat at his size. 
you gasp, sitting up as your sensitive cunt pulses once more. it’s so fucking pretty. you’ve heard your girl friends talk about how ugly and gross dicks were, a conversation that you never had input for, but after seeing wonwoo’s, you know they haven’t been blessed with the sight of one like his. 
he’s huge, for starters. it makes your tummy churn and swirl because you know he won’t be able to fit inside of you— not all at once at least. it’s long with prominent veins running through. the tip is flushed and leaky and he looks so hard it hurts. 
“won’t fit,” you whimper slowly gravitating towards him at the edge of your bed, eyes not leaving the throbbing member. “it’s not gonna fit, won,” you look up at him through your lashes and his entire body twitches as he looks down at your doe eyes. 
“and how do you know that?” he grabs your face with one of his hands, squishing your cheeks with his pointer and thumb finger. “you can take it, baby, don’t worry. i’ll be gentle.”
the tone of his voice drops an octave, and this time, you don’t believe him. there is something predatory about his words that makes you squirm and gush under his gaze. you don’t think he’ll be gentle, the way he looks at you like… it’s like he’s about to have his last meal. 
and, honestly, you find that you love it. you love having him look at you like he’s yours and your his. you love his attention. you love having him like this. 
he pushes you back again, your back hitting the plush bed. you bite your lip as you see him join and tower over you. he flashes a smile and you slowly melt and wither away under him, body squirming a bit. 
he looks in between your bodies and realizes he’s not wearing a condom. his face drains of color at the thought of your cunt taking his cock bare. “sweetheart… wait,”
your eyes widen and your lips form into a small pout, “what is it? what’s wrong?”
“need to get a condom,” he huffs and it’s apparent that he’s not very happy about the idea. he’s always worn one. every time. with every girl he’s ever been with. but every single time he’s imagined taking you, it was without one. he wants nothing in the way between you and him, but, of course, he needs to respect you and think about your safety. no matter how bad he wants it.
you furrow your eyebrows, “...why?” you whisper. 
this time, he mirrors your confused look. you’re a virgin, sure, but you must know what a condom is. “what do you mean why, angel? it’s pro–”
you shake your head, cutting him off. “i mean, why do you need it? are you… not clean?” you ask worriedly. 
“no, of course i am!”
“well, don’t leave me here,” you mumble. “‘m on the pill now, so you should be fine without one… now, please? wanna feel like i did before… wanna feel all of you…”
wonwoo now knows he’s died. he’s died and now he’s in paradise. you, and all your beauty, laying under him with the prettiest pout, begging for him. for his cock. raw. everything he’s dreamed of is about to come true... if he doesn’t cum first.
“god,” he mutters. he takes his length in his hand, stroking himself before lining up with your entrance. “you want my cock then?” he whispers, dragging the tip up and down your messy folds. 
“yeah, please… go slow…” 
he lets out a shaky breath, nodding his head before guiding himself back to your dripping hole. he inhales sharply, pushing himself inside, immediately entranced by the feeling of your warmth enveloping him whole. 
you wince letting out a soft cry of his name. he pushes past the resistance and you feel him taking something that’s been so sacred for as long as you could remember, but if you’re being transparent you couldn’t be happier that it’s him. you wouldn’t want anyone else to be in this position.
“fuck, baby,” he grunts with his raspy, deep voice that makes you clench even tighter around him. “fuck, so fucking tight, baby. so perfect.” he can barely trust his voice. it’s barely been five minutes, but he swears on everything he’s never felt this good before. 
you’re not even sure his fingers helped you enough because the stretch is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. “hurts…” you whimper out, eyes screwed close to keep the pained tears from falling. 
he bites his lip to suppress a moan at the sight of you like this, instead asking, “you good, baby? need me to pull out?” he’ll die if you do, so he hopes you answer against the idea. 
“n-no,” you pant, trying to breathe your way through the pain. “j-just go slow…s’big, feel too full,” you reply, brain unable to give him complete sentences. 
his eyes almost roll at your broken words. “i know, baby, i know. you’re doing so well for me, hm? takin’ it well all for me,” he manages to tell you even though he’s twitching like he might explode within the next 30 seconds. 
his praise makes you gasp as you arch your back, a new gush of arousal coating his hard length. when wonwoo speaks to you like this, it makes your head fog. the validation and praise and the lovingness behind it all makes you want to have him forever. you want him to speak to you like you're his baby forever. 
it almost makes you forget that this is just a favor. that you have a boyfriend and he has a sea of gorgeous women lined up for him. almost. 
after a few more minutes of slowly inching his way inside you, he finally bottoms out. you’re already a bit sore from the stretch, but the pain recedes and he fits like a glove. like he was made to be inside you and you were made to take him and all of his glory. it only riles you up, your pussy tightening around him even more. 
he groans out your name, “fuck, don’t do that or i won’t be able to last, pretty girl.”
“‘m sorry,” you mewl. “can’t help it, feels so good, wonwoo,” you finally open your eyes to look into his. “keep moving please?” you pout, keeping your tears at bay. 
he can’t emphasize how close he is to spontaneously combusting and pumping you full just to fuck you over and over again. he wants to fuck you till your pussy’s raw and you’re begging for mercy. he wants to see your pretty tears, hear your cries, see you dripping in sweat and cum. 
he doesn’t say anything, pulling out slowly and pushing himself back in. you gasp, hands moving to tug on the fabric of his shirt in attempts to pull it off. 
“ah, ah, ah,” wonwoo reprimands. “can’t be the only one without a shirt, baby, you gotta take yours off first.” he smirks at your eagerness. 
you nod quickly as you sit up, still so full of him, peeling your flimsy tank top off. you free your chest and wonwoo groans when he finally sees them. 
“so pretty…” he mumbles, pushing you back down with a bit more force than you were expecting. one of his hands comes to squeeze the fat, fondling it like he’s wanted to for so long. his cock thrusts into you again a bit faster and you cry again at the stimulation. 
“t-take it off!” you beg, reaching for the shirt again. 
he chuckles, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the pile of clothes on the floor. once you see his skin, your arms immediately wrap around his neck pulling him down for a kiss. you imitate the actions of your first kiss earlier, opening your mouth to let his tongue in. you let him sloppily makeout with your own. 
it’s messy. a newfound experience for you. you’ve never had a kiss like this– never had a kiss where it felt like you were about to get swallowed whole. you’ve never had a kiss filled with so much passion, a kiss so loud where you’re moaning into someone's mouth and they’re moaning into yours so lustily. it’s your first. wonwoo’s your first for many it seems. 
wonwoo can’t say he’s never had a messy kiss because he’s had plenty. maybe a few too many. but, unbeknownst to you, he’s never felt so eager for anyone in all his years of knowing you– lusting after you. he wants this so bad. he wants you so fucking bad it’s making his throat constrict, his abdomen tighten, his dick twitch as it’s surrounded by your warm walls.
his cock fills you up so well and you feel like there’s a big possibility that you may get addicted to the feeling. now that the pain has subsided, you can feel the prominent veins pressing into your velvety walls. you can feel every twitch and his bulbous head rubbing right against that spot that’s turning your brain into mush. 
“fuck, baby, you’re so good,” he moans into your mouth, thrusts increasing in pace. 
“love it when you call me that,” you admit, mindlessly. you pull him in closer, nails digging into his back, imprinting red crescent shapes in the skin. 
he lets out a guttural groan, breaking from the kiss and looking into your teary eyes. “you like being my good little baby, huh?” he asks breathlessly and when you whine and clench around him, he chuckles. “i can tell, angel, pretty pussy is loving my cock– swallowing all of me like such a good slut.”
he didn’t mean to say it, but when the words slip out, your eyes widen. his expression mirrors yours and his speed falters. your pulse thumps erratically and you’re sure your heart is going to lurch out of your chest, teeth catching your bottom lip, biting and digging into the pillowy muscle. 
“i didn’t mean–”
“keep going…” you whisper, hooking your legs around his waist to pull him into you and return to his prior pace. “oh, won, please keep going.” your begs make him reel. 
your pupils are completely blown out now. like you’ve taken some type of drug and you’re feeling the euphoric effects of it all. you can’t wrap your head around why you feel the way you do because of one degrading word. 
jesus christ, he thinks to himself. he has to be in love. you’re so greedy, so much potential to be his gorgeous girl. he thinks you’re perfect for him– no, he knows you’re perfect for him. he’s confident with the way he fits in you and the way you trust him with your body. he can’t even care to think about your stupid boyfriend. you’re his now. his to fuck stupid and pump full of cum. his to punish and praise and pleasure. he’ll turn you into his own little cockhungry slut.
his thoughts get the best of him as he nearly blacks out at the idea of you being his. his hips snap against yours with a particularly harsh thrust and he feels his tip kissing your cervix and you sob out, “fuh-fuck!”
and at the sound of your sobs and pleads and curses, he feels as if he can’t restrain himself any longer. he sits up on his knees, hands grabbing at your waist with a vice-like grip that will likely result in splats of purple bruises the next morning. not like either of you could give a fuck. he relentlessly pounds into you, balls lewdly slapping against your sloppy cunt without a care in the world. 
your cries and his groans plus all the pornographic sounds your bodies make together fill the room, bouncing off your cutely decorated walls. he can tell you’re going to cum soon when your breathing picks up, watching the way your chest rises and falls at an alarming rate.
you suddenly remember how you felt right before he had snatched his fingers from you earlier. you can feel it creeping back up, the fiery knot in your tummy tightening. your hand finds the sensitive bud wonwoo was toying with earlier, gently rubbing circles into it. 
he notices immediately and grunts. “such a greedy girl already, aren’t you? i’ve ruined you.” ruined you for everyone else and it’s been the best thing he’s ever done, he fails to add. 
you nod, tears dripping down the sides of your face. “g-god!”
“not quite, baby.” he chuckles breathily. “gonna cum for me? hmm, baby? gonna soak my cock for the first time like the good little slut you are?” he rambles, his own orgasm– that he’s held back all this time– quickly approaching.
you mewl at the mixed praise and degradation once more, fingers working faster as your brain numbs. “oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” you slur. “oh, ‘m gonna… wonwoo, ‘m gonna–!”
the words die on your tongue– the stimulation on your clit and the stimulation of his cock ramming into your sweet spot has you coming all over him. your back arches and your thighs convulse as you clamp around his cock. a squealing mantra of his name and curses flee your mouth as the tightrope in your tummy snaps.
you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything as euphoric in your life. it feels so good to let go and gush all over his cock while he fucks you through your orgasm so erratically. you can tell he’s close, too. a few more seconds and he’ll be making a mess. 
“ah, fuck– ‘m so close, baby, pretty pussy’s milking me for all i’m worth,” he moans out the warning. “love it so much.” he loves you so much.
you can barely hear a noise, let alone comprehend any of his words, so you just nod frantically as your sensitive body twitches under him sporadically. 
his thrusts go sloppy and before you know it, he pulls out, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. “fuck,” he grunts before he’s overtaken by the immense pleasure your pussy’s given him. he moans and lets out small whimpers as he pumps his cock, painting your sheen skin with his warm seed. he throws his head back as he moans out your name, “Y/N, fuck,”
he wishes so badly he could have came inside of you, but he’s going to make sure there’s another opportunity for that. he’ll be damned if he never fucks your cute pussy again. 
you whimper at the sudden warm substance on your skin. your eyes crack open to see your stomach covered in a sticky, white liquid– or maybe a mix between liquid and solid. your not sure you know how to describe it. 
you look at him as your mind comes to you. his hair disheveled, a few strays sticking to his sweaty forehead and the pace, at which, his chest rises and falls slows till it’s normal once more. 
when you come down, you suddenly remember your boyfriend. you were so sure you wanted him till wonwoo looked at you, made you feel special, took your virginity– now, you’re a mess. the mental image of your boyfriend fogs over in your head with words wonwoo whispered to you while he was fucking you. 
but you shouldn’t think about it anymore, right? everything was going to go back to normal after tonight, wouldn’t it? wonwoo will ever forgot this happened and he would bring some girl over when he thought you were gone and fuck her the same way he fucked you. you’d go back to thinking about your boyfriend trying to push the thoughts of your best friend making you cum over and over out of your head (it won’t work, but a girl can dream). all will be well. for one of you, at least.
“Y/N?” he mumbles. 
you look up at him and give him a small smile, “thanks for your help, won,” you whisper masking the sadness in your voice. “‘m gonna shower…” you don’t wait for his reply before you move off your bed. 
your legs are wobbly and your entirety feels sore. he really did a number on you. you whimper with every step you take and wonwoo quickly finds his pants and slips them on before rushing to your side.
“Y/N, c’mon, lemme take care of you.” he murmurs, his hands finding your waist to ground you and keeping your body from hobbling over. “get back on the bed, baby,” he whispers into your ear. 
you huff, physically unable to fight him on the matter and shuffling back to your bed uncomfortably. the ache between your legs and the nasty feeling of his release drying on your naked body were not a good mix. then you fucking remembered you were naked. you gasp, startling wonwoo, your arms wrapping around your body in attempts to hide yourself as if he hadn’t fucked you five minutes ago. 
“what’s wrong?” he asks, a look of confusion painting his face.
“y-you… i… i’m naked…” you tell him meekly, moving to lay on the bed again. “this… is so weird.”
he smiles softly at your sudden shyness. “back to being shy, are we?” you frown at him and he just laughs heartily, your body filling with even more dread because– god. he’s just perfect and not yours. “‘m only teasing, doll, ‘s okay.”
you don’t reply, awkwardly shifting under his gaze. the pet name sounds so natural. like he’s meant to call you pretty things. like you're meant to be his.
but he’s not yours and you’re not his.
you stutter, words fleeing you in the moment you need them most. “wonwoo… i-i…”
you look like you’re on the brink of tears, guilt wracking your body. wonwoo feels his chest tighten, breath hitching in his dry throat, “Y/N, do you regret it?” he asks, words hushed. he’s anxious. 
“no! no, no, i don’t… i don’t regret it. i trust you more than anyone, wonwoo. i promise.” you say meekly and he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. “i just… can we act like it never happened?”
the weight returns. heavier. it nearly crushes him. he couldn’t forget about this even if he’d wanted to. he’s already tattooed every second of tonight into his fuzzy brain. every reaction, every moan, every single word you gave him is all he’ll think about. 
he clears his throat, a shaky exhale slipping his lips before asking, “if you don’t regret it then why…?” he can’t even get the question out. he knows the answer. (read: the unnamed boyfriend– the one that he swears he’ll kill the second he meets him.)
you avert your eyes, looking anywhere but at him. “you know why.” 
he does. 
“and plus, we’re just friends. and roommates. it’ll just be awkward.” you cringe at your words because, unbeknownst to him, you don’t want to forget it. you know you won’t be able to forget it. not the possessive words that he spat during his sex-crazed haze, not the way his cock felt, not the way he looked at you.  
he waits for you to look at him, but you don’t. you can’t look at him right now. 
“okay.” he says coldly after sitting in deafening silence for over a minute. “consider it forgotten.”
he’ll make you his one of these days. you may not know it yet, but you belong with him. and he’d do anything for you. 
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© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.
2K notes · View notes
neil-gaiman · 1 year
Note
This will sound confrontational but its a genuine question, I promise. Why is it ‘embarrassing’ to wonder about the sex lives of these characters? GO is not a childrens book or show as far as i know, the characters are not underage, unable to consent, related, cheating, canonically asexual or any other thing that would make them having sex even remotely reprehensible or anything like that. They literally get called husbands every single day on this app and im sure you’re well aware people are very much writing about them having sex constantly so I’m just wondering. Is it just the word choice? If someone had asked when az and crowley ‘made tender consensual love’ instead, would there be less actual harrassment in their inbox right now? Or is it just very bad and wrong to discuss gay sex… ok maybe it is confrontational after all. oops
I think you might have misread or misconstrued what I wrote, when I said "I feel a bit embarrassed for the people sending them when they come through, but nothing more than that". My embarrassment is over what people think is appropriate to send as messages to the author, not over whatever they want to speculate about. They have the whole of Tumblr, not to mention AO3, to ponder, imagine and discuss anything they like about any and all things in the stories, including sex, gay and straight. But sending stuff like that to me is just inappropriate... it's like watching someone turn up to a school meeting drunk, or watching someone trying to tell dirty jokes to an audience that wishes they'd stop. I'm the wrong audience, and it makes me embarrassed on their behalf.
Every now and again, in the Asks, someone will write apologizing for something they sent in years before, which they've now realized was inappropriate -- or which they always knew was inappropriate and they've grown enough as people to apologize. And enough of those messages have come in over the years that I'm never upset at receiving inappropriate asks. Just embarrassed for the people sending them, and hoping they don't beat themselves up too badly when they figure out, as many of them seem to eventually, that perhaps that wasn't a very sensible thing to do.
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twogyuu · 2 months
Text
the unoriginal villain origin story
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Pairing: Jeonghan x fem!reader (ft. friend!Wonwoo)
Synopsis: In which Jeonghan and his friends recount the series of unfortunate events that led to you.
Alternatively, in which maybe leaving it up to fate Wonwoo is all Jeonghan really needed to do all along.
Genre: Fluff, crack, angst if you squint, cliche af, prequel to Thursday's Child Has Far to Go anthology, dilf!jeonghan, uncle!wonwoo (he's engaged LOL), part university!au, mild E2L (they're not really enemies, but OC definitely trying to stay AWAY from Jeonghan at first), one-sided turned mutual pining
Warnings: Profanity, mentions of food/alcohol, mildly suggestive (they just kiss and jeonghan likes skinship), reader is shorter than jeonghan, jeonghan changes hair color a couple times, wonwoo just swallows food without chewing like a maniac, proofread but not well, there are inconsistencies between this and easter egg's dropped about their relationship in other fics (i will fix that some day!)
wc: ~14.6k
A/N: I had so much trouble posting this T^T First long fic in a while🫶🏻 It's not my best story nor is it that deep, but made me feel all sorts of giddy 💞 I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing!
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“So,” Leah starts with her mouth half-full, capturing the table’s attention. She’s quick to cover her lips and swallow her food before continuing. “I’m curious,” she points between Jeonghan and you, “How’d you two end up together? As long as I’ve known Wonwoo, you’ve been married.”
Immediately, Wonwoo snorts, nearly spitting out his dinner on his friend sitting across the table. Jeonghan scorns in disgust, frowning, offended as to why Wonwoo finds his fiance’s question amusing. In contrast, you seem to lose your appetite, silver fork clattering against your half-filled ceramic plate. You grow quiet, straightening your spine and avoiding eye contact like you were back in middle school, caught red-handed with a confession letter to your crush. 
“I honestly thought she was going to end up with Baekho – she loathed Jeonghan with a passion,” Wonwoo chuckles to himself as he redirects his chopsticks at your husband. “But Jeonghan knocked her up – that’s what happened.” 
“Okay,” Jeonghan is quick to defend. He sighs, shooting Wonwoo a bored, but annoyed look, “That’s not what happened – do you have to put it that way?” 
The other man only shrugs his shoulders, raising his palms to the sky playing innocent and oblivious. 
Leah’s eyes flicker back and forth between you and your husband, then sweet Nina. Leah’s innocent smile slowly fading as you neither confirmed or answered. She isn’t aware that this was a sensitive topic for you and Jeonghan, and the last thing she wants to do is offend her fiance’s friends! The two of you just seem to get along so well and so in love, for lack of a better description, it’s hard for Leah to imagine much malice as to how you met and got together. Yet, this raises the additional worrisome, unfounded suspicion: Did you and Jeonghan just get married out of convenience?
No – that couldn’t be! Wonwoo is a sensible man; he wouldn’t be laughing if it was a pitiful marriage of convenience. 
“She didn’t hate me,” Jeonghan starts to explain. 
“She blocked your number after the blind date,” Wonwoo interjects. 
You met during a blind date?
“It wasn’t even our blind date,” Jeonghan quickly shoots back. He clenches his jaw, clearly getting fed up with Wonwoo’s teasing. 
This is certainly interesting for Leah . . . Jeonghan frequently annoyed Wonwoo, not that the latter gave the older gentleman the reaction he wanted, but it is rare to see Wonwoo get under Jeonghan’s skin. 
“It wasn’t, which makes it all the funnier,” Wonwoo comments, “In fact, she was technically,” Wonwoo holds his fingers up in air quotes, “‘my blind date.’”
“I was merely doing you a favor by tagging along – and it was free food!” you finally exclaim, frowning at Wonwoo. 
Wonwoo waves you off, smirking, “Jeonghan was down bad.”
Confused, Leah holds up a hand to silence the bickering. She shakes her head, “Wait, wait, wait – please start from the beginning. I didn’t grow up with you guys, so I’m so lost.”
Like those corny rom-coms, you and Jeonghan turn to look at each other at the same time, exchanging a knowing, tired look. There’s a bashful tinge to your expression; interestingly, the corner of Jeonghan’s lips quirks up in a crooked, smug smile. 
Sure, you may have resisted (NOT hate) him at first, and Wonwoo can make fun of him all he wants, but it’s Yoon Jeonghan who won in the end. 
After all, you're sitting next to him at the dinner of your shared home as his wife and Nina's mom after all.
. . . . 
The day was near perfect for Wonwoo. 
His morning coding lecture was canceled, so he got to sleep in. Though there was a pop quiz in his Operating Systems class, he passed with flying colors for once. Wonwoo only had two classes today, finishing in the early afternoon, leaving the rest of the day to his leisure. He decided to celebrate by treating himself to some fancy coffee from the new bougie cafe that opened on the edge of campus before meeting up with a friend for a quick study session. Now, Wonwoo wasn't some latte snob, but there was something pleasant and relaxing about taking a quiet stroll around campus with his Airpods plugged in and an overpriced hot brew with several scoops of sugar and multiple pumps of mocha syrup in his hand. The weather on this autumn day was also just right – not too cold that he needed a windbreaker, but not too warm that his green and orange plaid flannel and yellow beanie combo didn’t make him sweat buckets. 
All was wonderful: It was just him and his overpriced bougie sweet sludge of caffeine. Indeed this campus was huge and he was surrounded by so many students rushing to class or laughing with their friends on the grass instead of studying; however, he felt anonymous and loved it. No one minded him, no one dared to bother him–
“Hey!” a familiar crack of a shrill interrupts IU’s sweet voice streaming through his ear piece. It’s accompanied by a bony and heavy hand clamping onto his shoulder, nearly yanking Wonwoo back and tumbling onto his ass if he didn’t catch his footing. 
Annoyed, Wonwoo pulled out his earbud and turned to face his menace of a friend: Yoon Jeonghan. He was panting, chocolate brown hair stuck to his forehead by sweat and sticking out in funny directions in the gentle breeze, as if he had been chasing Wonwoo for several minutes. 
“Why are you out of breath?” Wonwoo deadpanned. 
“I’ve been,” Jeonghan sucked in breath, “Running,” he heaved again, “After you! Calling your name! How loud is your music? God – you’ve been spending too much time with Hansol.” Jeonghan adjusted the straps of his backpack, making a point to roll his shoulder back dramatically. 
“Sorry,” Wonwoo muttered, fingers tapping his screen to pause his music. “Um, what do you need? Can I help you?” He cleared his throat, keeping eye contact with Jeonghan as he took a sip of his coffee, presuming it cooled down by now. 
“Go on a date with me,” Jeonghan said.
Wonwoo choked, the mocha liquid spilling from between his lips, accidentally spraying the hem of Jeonghan’s gray t-shirt.
“Wonwoo!” Jeonghan screamed, jumping back. 
The said man was quick to dab his lips with the back of his hand, coughing in the process. 
“What the fuck, dude!” Jeonghan groaned, brushing at his shirt. “Good thing I didn’t wear white today.”
“I’m sorry, but what?” Wonwoo exclaimed. A few passing students throw confused glances in their directions. Wonwoo lowered his voice and quickly added, “Look – I know we’re good friends and I like you – as a friend, and I respect you, but I don’t swing that way.”
Probably thirty seconds passed by as Wonwoo waited impatiently for his friend to explain his request further. Jeonghan’s expression only grows unreadable, his brows softening as he let’s go of his shirt, lips drooping into a frown. Taking Wonwoo by surprise, Jeonghan roughly grabbed Wonwoo’s wrist and pulled him close. He tried to pull back, but for a twink, Jeonghan’s grip was strong.
“I’ve loved you for so long! I can’t believe you won’t–” 
Thwack!
“Hey!” Wonwoo’s hands come flying to the back of his head at the pain shooting up neck. 
“No, you dumbass!” Jeonghan finally sounding like himself again, “I’m asking you to come on a blind date with me – to keep me safe and keep me company, of course. Save me when I give you the look.”
“The look?” Wonwoo asked, still rubbing the base of his head.
“You know,” Jeonghan widened his eyes and clenched his jaw, extending his neck like a giraffe. “That look.”
“Right,” Wonwoo replied slowly – as if he knew what that meant. He waved his friend off. “Sorry – I can’t though. I also don’t want to third wheel.”
“Why not!” Jeonghan groaned. 
“I’m busy.”
“Aren’t we all?” 
“I’m meeting a friend.”
“Bring your friend!” Jeonghan grabbed Wonwoo’s arm desperately, “Or anyone really. Please! I just don’t want to go on this date alone.”
“You hit me – why would I?” Wonwoo teased back. “Also, why’d you agree to the blind date if you don’t want to go?”
“I owe it to Seungcheol,” Jeonghan groaned. “I’m going in his stead – something having a girl.”
“Ah,” Wonwoo nodded, the pieces coming together. The two friends were close and had a history of exchanging blind dates and sending one versus the other – a weird pact they developed in their freshman year of university. He suddenly scrunched his brows together, a new question forming on the tip of his tongue. “Wait – Seungcheol has a girl?”
Jeonghan doesn’t seem to care, however. “So?” 
“So?” Wonwoo repeated back, confused 
“I’ll pay for food,” Jeonghan offered. 
As if on cue, Wonwoo’s stomach growled. The two of them peer down at his abdomen, then back at each other. He was a growing, but broke college student – his fridge didn’t contain much yesterday, and even less today. 
Rubbing his belly, he replied quietly, “I guess I can think of someone.”
“Great!” Jeonghan brightened immediately. “7PM, tomorrow – don’t be late!”
. . . .
[Wonwoo]: Want free food?
. . . .
[Y/N]: This is NOT what I envisioned when you said ‘free food’ >:(
Pushing his black-rimmed spectacles up his nose bridge, Wonwoo looked up at his phone, offering you a sheepish, but apologetic smile, from across the table. He gave you a small shrug, scrunching his lips and bowing his head slightly to silently say ‘sorry.’ The sincerity of his apology doesn’t seem to go through though, as you only sigh heavily and roll your eyes. 
Violently, you stabbed your wooden chopstick into the pork belly sizzling in front of you. Not minding to blow at it, quickly, you stuck in your mouth, instantly regretting your decision, of course as the heat burnt a piece of your tongue. You jolted a little, eyes beginning to water.
And then, he does it – again. 
Sleeves of his brown sweater rolled up to his elbow, he reached over the steaming grill and placed a freshly refilled, full glass of ice water in front of you.
Hand hovering over your lip, your eyes flicker to Jeonghan. Lips pressed into a thin, but genuinely warm, crooked smile, his deep brown eyes, once round curves into half moons under the overgrown bangs of his soft cool brown hair (which was growing blotchy and brassy, if you might add). Though you were curious why he looked at you with such disgusting saccharine dripping from his eyes that may or may not have made you feel some type of way, you don’t let your gaze linger for long to figure out why. You were quick to turn your shoulder towards him, covering your steaming mouth and concentrating on a crack in the old oak windowsill. 
It had been like this since five minutes into the (now that you know) double blind date. You’re not sure how the seating arrangement ended up this way when you and Wonwoo were just here in support, but Jeonghan sat next to you, Dami across from you, and Wonwoo diagonally position. His date, Dami, sat across from him, but Jeonghan seemed to pay minimal mind to her, answering her questions politely, but vaguely. 
Perhaps you were just thinking too much about it, but Jeonghan was paying more attention to you. He laughed a little too loud at your blunt remarks, you caught him staring in your direction one too many times, and was a little too attentive at what was in your bowl. You made a point to ask Wonwoo about it after. 
The gestures seemed sweet until you took a step back and got a larger view of the situation: Two facts were certain.
One – You weren’t close with Jeonghan despite sharing Wonwoo and a few others as a mutual friend. Yet his reputation was notorious as it was confusing. Neither quite the fuck boy nor the campus hearthrob (that title belonged to his friend, Seungcheol), Yoon Jeonghan was a silent menace to collegiate society. He was gorgeous – a deep set of dark brown eyes framed by long velvet lashes, his features were gentle, yet somehow dynamic and sharp. His warm smile ignited hearts across campus, but no one dared confess to him: His intentions (or the lack thereof) were known far and wide: Yoon Jeonghan did not date. He was cordial, perhaps sometimes a mischievous flirt if bored, but his true kindness did not go out easily. It was not known why he didn’t date, a man that beautiful could snatch someone up with a bat of his lashes and flick of his finger. Some of your friends had said he had a long distance girlfriend on the other side of the country, others have proposed he was afraid of commitment and a closet fuck boy – kept his flings under wraps. He was close with the soccer team after all. 
With all of this “knowledge” about him in mind, that led you to the second point: Jeonghan was Dami’s blind date. There’s a piece of you that is curious as to why Jeonghan agreed to a blind date with Dami – not in a toxic or jealous way of course. Her jet black hair trimmed into a short, messy but stylish shag bob, her features resembling that of a wide-eyed kitten, Dami was indeed cute. You didn’t know much about her, however; no money to her name, she wasn’t particularly popular or desired in that way on campus, did not participate in sports or clubs, and you’re not even sure how she was linked to Jeonghan in the first place. 
Perhaps this was Dami’s big love story: the campus enigma takes interest in an ordinary girl and whisks her away to live an adventurous life after graduation. 
The catch though?
Dami didn’t seem interested in Jeonghan at all. 
In fact, hearts were literally shooting out of her eyes at Wonwoo. 
“So, uh,” Dami cleared her throat, her eyes flickered up to Wonwoo then you before returning back to the boy on her side. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she asked, “Are the two of you . . .?”
Wonwoo choked on his lettuce, followed by your awkward cough. Much to both of your surprises, Jeonghan also nearly spat out his water at Wonwoo. A moment of silence at the table lingered, the three of you glancing at each other, while Dami sat back in her seat trying to make sense of the situation; though frankly, you and Wonwoo were equally confused as to why Jeonghan reacted so volatilely too. 
“We’re just friends,” Wonwoo finally piped up. He cleared his throat, dabbing the invisible stain in the corner of his lip with the napkin. 
You nodded vigorously in confirmation. 
“Oh? Okay,” Dami said softly, a little breathless. There’s a small twitch of the corner of her lip, threatening to stretch into a grin, but she caught herself, offering the table a tight smile instead. 
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Jeonghan visibly relax, quietly returning to the meat grilling in front of him. 
The rest of the dinner proceeded without any choking mishaps – it was fairly nice, honestly. You decided that you actually really liked Dami. Despite her cat-like appearance and coy nature, she was lively and innocent. Her crush on Wonwoo was evident and you found it endearing, though your friend might not. 
In regards to Jeonghan, his nonchalant, yet caring nature carried on throughout the night; it even got Wonwoo raising his brows curiously. You do your best to not pay mind to him, but every now and then, you find yourself heating up at the sound of his deep laughter.
After bidding the pair goodbye and exchanging phone numbers with Dami, you and Wonwoo set off for your shared apartment complex. You lived in the same building, him on the second floor, you on the fourth floor. 
Unable to contain your curiosity much longer, you check behind you to make sure Jeonghan is a good distance away before nudging Wonwoo’s elbow. He looked at you, unamused, silently asking you what you wanted. 
You began, “Hey, this is a weird question and I know you were just there for moral support and free food, but did you get the feeling that Jeonghan–” 
“Yeah,” Wonwoo confirmed, already knowing the answer to your unfinished question. You stutter in your steps, putting you a few feet behind him. Wonwoo continued forward, showing no signs of slowing down for your confused state. He hollered back, “He’s definitely into you.”
It made you feel some type of way, but you can’t decide if it’s a good type of way or you didn’t like it all together. Your heart beats funny for the first time in years – it was reminiscent of when you developed a crush in middle school, but different due to the uncertainty of this feeling. Unbeknownst to you, Wonwoo’s comment made you come to a halt altogether, quietly contemplating in the middle of the sidewalk while strangers walked around you. 
As if on cue, just as Wonwoo noticed your absence lingering behind him, he turned to find Jeonghan actually running willingly, fast approaching behind you. He touched your elbow, interrupting your daze and you turned around slowly to greet him. Wonwoo can’t make out your expression, but he could only imagine, you looked lost like a guppy in the sewers. On the other hand, Jeonghan’s expression was very visible and clear: his friend was beaming; subtly in his smiles and soft in his eyes, but beaming nonetheless. 
One would think Jeonghan had something important to tell you given the way he sprinted nearly a block to catch up to you, heaving between words, but his message was rather simple. 
“It was really nice meeting you, Y/N.”
Yet, for some reason, it made all the impact. 
. . . .
“Please!” Jeonghan hissed, stabbing Wonwoo’s side with the tip of his pencil. Wonwoo winced away, shooting daggers in his friend’s direction. He was trying to use this spare few hours between classes to study for his finals in the serenity and quiet of the library. His friends knew around this time of the semester, Wonwoo didn’t like to be disturbed, but it just so happened that Jeonghan had an urgent request, prompting him to track down the computer engineering major to his sacred, hidden spot of the law school library. “Can you give me her number? It’s not that hard!”
Though irritating, Wonwoo did find this version of Yoon Jeonghan was very entertaining as much as it was enthralling as Jeonghan never took this much interest in anyone or anything. He wanted to let his intrusive thoughts win and indulge in it. 
The two of you were like night and day. Whereas, you spoke your feelings, wants, and needs openly, Jeonghan never dared to do so. His requests were cryptic, embedded questions pertaining to the objective, rather than what his heart desired truly. You had your mind set on a goal; Jeonghan was one to flow and ebb with the waters of life. 
However, though neither of you knew it yet, there was a beguiling bone in the both of you. It depended on how it played out whether it’d unite the both of you or send you apart. At this point, it was unironically up to Wonwoo if he wanted to be the third player in this game. t
Wonwoo scoffed, shaking his head. 
“What?” Jeonghan frowned. 
“Do you want it that bad?” Wonwoo asked. He pressed his friend further. “And why?”
Jeonghan closed his mouth as quick as he opened it, retracting the rationale at the tip of his tongue. A good gambler never shows his cards first. His eyes flickered, contemplating his next few words more carefully before adjusting his posture and continuing. 
“Just because,” Jeonghan replied nonchalantly. 
Wonwoo chuckled, not surprised. 
“If you’re just going to fuck around with her heart, I’d rather not,” Wonwoo replied, shrugging. 
And it was true – you were the same age, but to some extent, you felt like a long-lost younger sister to Wonwoo. 
“Hey,” Jeonghan punched him lightly. There was a slight warning tone as he was frowning even more, well aware of what Wonwoo was referring to. Jeonghan has never bothered to clarify the rumors of his dating life, thinking it too much work, but that didn’t mean he liked them either. “You know that’s not true and I would never.”
“Then admit it,” Wonwoo shot back. 
“Admit what?!” Jeonghan flailed his hands wildly, earning a few dirty looks from the studious students a few tables away.  
“You want Y/N’s number because you’re interested.”
“Th-that’s not it,” Jeonghan muttered weakly. “I mean, yes? But also no? I just . . . want to know her better – you know, as a friend . . . first.”
Crossing his arm over his chest, Wonwoo nodded, feigning agreement. “Right, right.”
“Wonwoo,” Jeonghan protested. 
When he didn’t respond, Jeonghan groaned loudly, flopping back in his spinning chair dramatically. 
“If you won’t tell me, I’ll find someone else to give it to me,” Jeonghan threatened. 
“And risk other people questioning why you want to contact Y/N?” Wonwoo teased. He shot Jeonghan a shit-eating grin, “You know what they’re all going to think, right?”
“Jeon Wonwoo, when did you get so fucking irritating?” 
Wonwoo leaned forward, waving his finger for Jeonghan to get closer. The latter hesitated for a second before giving in. 
“If there’s one thing you should know about Y/N,” Wonwoo started in a hushed voice, “You’re not the first one to ask for her number.”
“So?” Jeonghan asked incredulously, “Why should that matter?”
“Just saying,” Wonwoo leaned back, resting his hands on the nape of his neck, “Don’t be surprised if she turns you down – she doesn’t like to mess around. She’s not really . .  . actively looking to date right now either, honestly. Something about careers and being her ‘me’ era.” At the time, Jeonghan wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was sure content with the way Wonwoo ripped a corner of his notebook and scribbled down your digits. “You should be grateful we’re friends – she asked me not to hand out her number the first time I gave it to Johnny Suh.”
He handed the scrap over to Jeonghan, who beamed as if it was the golden ticket from Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. 
May Yoon Jeonghan be the last to ask for your number. 
Wonwoo called after Jeonghan, “In return, all I ask is that you don’t tell Y/N you got the number from me.”
“Why?” Jeonghan asked, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder as he stood up from his desk. 
Wonwoo rubbed his neck sheepishly, tips of his ear turning red. “I also don’t want her passing out my number – it’s a pact we made, kinda.”
It all clicked for Jeonghan then, if not more. “Don’t worry,” Jeonghan waved, “I’ll send Dami a text.”
“Hey!”
. . . .
[Jeonghan]: Hey – this is Yoon Jeonghan :) 
[Jeonghan]: I got it from Wonwoo hehehe.
[Y/N Y/L/N]: ???
[Jeonghan]: Hello?
[Y/N Y/L/N]: [your message not delivered]
. . . .
You don’t hear from Jeonghan after the double blind date.
Not that you were anticipating it, but still– Wonwoo said he was into you and then he chased you down a block to tell you it was nice to meet you!
Ugh – the bar was so damn low. 
On the other hand, you do hear from Dami, the two of you quickly becoming better friends. She reached out to you on Instagram, playful chatter turning into occasional hangouts and then weekly coffee runs or walking to the general vicinity of your classes together in between lectures. You were suspicious at first, wondering if she was using you to get closer to Wonwoo, but her intentions seemed sincere. Indeed, she did ask about Wonwoo every now and then, eventually also asking if he was seeing anyone, you didn’t find it particularly annoying. She still wanted to be your friend and understood boundaries, choosing to admire from afar and up close when the opportunity presents. 
It also turned out that Wonwoo wasn’t the only one who sensed there was something up about Jeonghan at the blind date as Dami brought it up months later when you passed the barbeque restaurant where you all met that fateful day on a stroll. At this point, you’d like to think Jeonghan became a distant memory – just a fleeting interaction, but there are times that you do catch yourself wondering about him. You wonder what he’s up to, wonder if he’s gone on more blind dates, what would have happened if you were a little more forward and you reached out. 
“Oh,” Dami waved you off when you asked about how she got Jeonghan to agree to a blind date with her. “I was just as surprised as the rest of you – that blind date was actually supposed to be with Choi Seungcheol, but I’m not sure what happened. He’s cute, but Jeonghan’s not really my type.”
“I see,” you nodded, feeling a sense of relief for some weird reason. You snuggle your hands deeper into the pockets of your puffer jacket. 
A beat passed before Dami asked slowly, “Is Jeonghan your type though?”
You peer down at the shorter girl, quirking a curious eyebrow. 
“What?” she asked innocently. “It was totally obvious – he was head over heels for you.”
“As if,” you scoffed. “We literally just met that night.”
She bumped your shoulder lightly. “Ey, haven’t you heard of love at first sight?”
“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” you corrected her. “I hardly know him and vice versa; how is he supposed to like me already?”
“It’s just . . . a vibe, I guess,” Dami tried to reason, “He liked your vibe.”
“Very scientific,” you replied sarcastically.
“I’m just saying,” Dami shrugged, “I may be a hopeless romantic, but I’ve never seen Jeonghan act out like that before.”
“Did you know him prior?” you asked curiously. 
Dami hummed, tapping her finger to her chin. “I knew of him and I’ve seen him here and there, but I never talked to him like that. Our circles never really overlapped, other than Seungcheol. Knowledge by observation – Jeonghan’s not really . . . he’s . . . gosh, kind of hard to explain.”
“How so?” your interest was piqued. 
“I don’t know . . . the way he talks . . . it feels like he’s flirting with everyone, but it’s never serious and he’s actually not? You’d think with how playful he is, he’d be an asshole,” Dami fumbled with her words. 
You felt your heart sink a little. “So what I’m hearing is . . . this was probably lust at best.”
“No! With you, it was different though! Agh – fuck, wish I was better with words,” Dami protested. 
“Doesn’t sound different.”
“Is he your type though?” Dami pressed again, nonetheless. 
You took a moment to contemplate, head skimming through your celebrity crushes, things you liked in old exes, things you didn’t like as you learned, growing up. Again, you hardly knew Jeonghan, but you’re slowly starting to piece together the person he seemed to be. He was the kind of man your mother warned you about: good-looking, sweet with their words and actions, but unpredictable – in a bad kind of way. 
Eventually, you shook your head, letting out a heavy breath. “Not really – he’s . . . too pretty,” you replied, “Wouldn’t bat an eye on him if I saw him on the metro.” Your voice trailed off as you were not in a mood to explain yourself further. Despite the certainty in your voice, the answer didn’t seem to settle well into your body, making you feel squeamish, a heavy sensation landing in your chest.  
So what if Jeonghan wasn’t your type?
Dami hummed in understanding, “I can see that.” She kicked the ball of snow in front of her. “Well then, it’s a good thing you won’t see him again, right?”
“Right.”
“What is your type then?” Dami asked. She quickly added, “Just asking for funsies.”
You smiled, appreciative that she’d indulge in your delusions every now and then. 
Just as you parted your lips to start, a deep voice bellowed your name from afar in front of the both of you. Dami and you lift your heads from the icy pavement, to find a broad young man standing a few feet away. His jacket was unzipped, sweater hanging loosely from his shoulders, just enough so that you can see his tattoo peeking out from underneath the collar. He grinned wide, eyes turning into crescents under his thick brows, cheeks and the tip of nose pink. 
“B-Baekho,” you stammered. Your lips wobble nervously as if they couldn’t decide whether to smile or hide the way your heart fluttered at the sight of him. “Hey.”
Despite your long-time crush standing before you, you had to make a conscious effort to quell the lingering thoughts of Jeonghan in the back of your mind. 
. . . .
You were wrong – you would see Yoon Jeonghan again. 
You and Jeonghan shared more mutual friends than you had thought. 
It’s Soonyoung’s birthday party. You’re not sure why, Soonyoung was full of surprises, but he invited a handful of his friends out to the outdoor ice skating rink about half an hour from campus. The plan was to hang out there for the afternoon before returning to his apartment for an evening of festivities. 
Jeonghan had changed his appearance since you last saw him. His once dark brown hair was now bleach blonde – he’d grown it out, the dark roots peaking through, but the bright ends hung shaggily, skimming over his long velvet lashes. At the chalet while lacing up his skates, he still donned those skittish grins and playful smirks whenever he was teasing his other friends, elbowing them and throwing his head back in a deep laughter, in contrast to his soft voice most days. 
You do your best to avoid him, sticking close with Dami (Soonyoung let you bring a plus one) on the rink or choosing to sit close to Wonwoo who opted to stay inside and watch from the chalet. Dami does a pretty good job keeping you busy, anyhow – the girl could hardly skate, clinging onto the walls and calling for you every time you strayed too far. It was moments like this you were thankful your mother put you in ice skating for a brief moment in your youth before you vehemently quit in fourth grade, terrified by the stories of professional figure skaters needing hip surgery and waking up early every Saturday for lessons. It also seemed like Jeonghan was facing the same challenge with the birthday boy. Out of the corner of your eyes every now and then, you’d catch a glimpse of Soonyoung bent over at a 90 degree angle, hands outstretched clinging onto Jeonghan’s hands like his life depended on it. 
“Y/N!” Dami called for the umpteenth time that afternoon. “Y/N! Hey!”
You huffed, growing tired of slowing down for your friend. You loved her! Don’t get it wrong, it’s just you wanted at least one round, where you could whiz around the rink and awaken those skater muscles you once built. 
You spun around to face her, skating backwards. “Dami, I think we should get you one of those skating walkers–”
“No, you idiot!” she cried, pointing behind you aggressively, “Watch out!”
Her warning proved too late, however. By the time you faced forward again, you came crashing into a familiar blob of white puffer and a high-pitched, but husky shriek. A set of arms wrapped around your body and you curled yourself inwards, allowing yourself to take refuge into whoever had been your demise and your savior. Mittens clinging onto the slippery material of their coat, you squeeze your eyes shut, letting your fumbling feet still so no one tripped and you both fell. 
The both of you eventually hit the side of the rink, eliciting a quiet ‘umph’ from the mystery person. The trauma of the impact seemed to linger a little longer; you were afraid to open your eyes to see yourself sailing towards a whole crowd of people despite feeling yourself still. 
“Um,” the person shifted uncomfortably. They tapped your shoulder before trying to peel you off of them, “Y-you can let go.”
You peel your lids open, one by one, cautiously to make sure you were no longer moving. Eventually, you relax, pulling back a little – still holding on nonetheless. 
The person cleared their throat, prompting you to look up. 
Fuck.
Jeonghan gave you a tight lipped smile, “Hey.”
“Uh, hi,” you replied, awkwardly. 
“You can let go now,” he looked around, leaning back into the board, “People are staring.”
“Oh, right,” you pushed yourself back, letting your skates drift you away. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Jeonghan pretended to be busy and brushed off the invisible wrinkles in his coat. 
A beat passed as he straightened out, catching your gaze and letting it linger. You feel your heartbeat hastened, his stare making you nervous and stirring up other feelings in your stomach, but you don’t dare look away – it was weirdly addicting. 
“Um well,” Jeonghan finally said, he nodded once, “It was nice seeing you around.”
You panicked, launching yourself towards him and catching his elbow. “Wait!”
Jeonghan threw you a confused look over his shoulder, quietly waiting for you to continue. 
“W-wait,” you whispered again under your breath. You inhaled harshly, eyes flickering up to meet him before dropping them to his black and white, scuffed rental skates. “D-do you maybe . . . wanna get hot cocoa?” You pointed back at the chalet and Jeonghan followed your mittens. 
He paused, expression unreadable. His brows knitted together, lips pressing into a thin line. He looks all over the place except for you, finally coming to a conclusion and answering, “Sure.”
“Cool,” you nodded.
He was the first to leave, skating towards the entrance of the rink. 
You followed quietly. 
Dami and Soonyoung watched from afar, both kneeling on the ice, one hand on the side board as their saviors left them to fend on their own. 
. . . .
The chalet was bustling with life: mothers with their young children in tow, friends bundled in layers as they waddled unsteadily in their skates towards the entrance, and others strewn across the wooden tables and benches. The young teens behind the cafe counter were certainly sweating away running between the cash register and the food warmers and coffee machines behind them. 
Jeonghan had graciously paid for your hot chocolates – not without a fight of course. You didn’t really want your drink to come with drinks attached. The two of you found a small table tucked away near the parking lot. It was a little quieter in this area, a little colder as well with the people coming and going. Nerves wracked your stomach as you tried to be as calm as possible, hopeful that he wouldn’t notice the regret lacing your entire body right now. You wonder if you got a concussion during that collision to even have the gall to invite him for a drink  after all these months. 
What would you even talk about? It’s not like your conversations during the double date were that deep. Let alone, who were you that he’d remember details about you?
The words exchanged between you and Jeonghan were far and few since the collision on ice – they were more so out of necessity. What you wanted to drink specifically, where you wanted to sit, be careful not to run into the kid whizzing across the chalet main floor. 
“You blocked my number,” Jeonghan blurted, interrupting your musing. You were only two sips into your hot chocolate, lips lifting off the rim of your white paper cup. He noted how the brown liquid faintly stained the rim where they once rested.
Jeonghan couldn’t hold it in much longer – the question was ruminating in the back of his mind for the past few months like an annoying fly they couldn’t swat in the house in the summer. He did his damn best to “let it go” like everyone said because “maybe it wasn’t meant to be.” However, it must mean something to have quite literally run into you now and you asked him to drink hot chocolate with you in the chalet, right? He wanted and needed to know your intentions.
Jeonghan watched you intently from the opposite side of the bench, your bustling surroundings melting away. You seemed to be in your own world, your silence ensuing. He noted how your left eyebrow twitched momentarily as if you were confused. It was quick to turn sly, your brow softening again, your lips curving into an amused smirk. It sent chills down Jeonghan’s spine to see your demeanor flip so quickly when you were coy moments earlier. Gears were turning – almost like you were plotting something. 
“And?” you asked, bringing up your paper cup of hot chocolate to your lips, the rim covering half of your face. 
Jeonghan snorted, shaking his head – the audacity!
“Yet, you’re asking to have a drink together?” Jeonghan continued. 
“How’d you get my number in the first place?” you asked instead. You raised a curious eyebrow. 
Jeonghan narrowed his gaze, setting his paper cup down roughly with a loud ‘clack’. The warm liquid sloshed around, threatening to spill over. “It’s rude to answer a question by asking another question.”
You shrugged nonchalantly, leaning forward towards him as if to challenge him; pressing Jeonghan to answer your question rather than vice versa. However, what you didn’t know was that Jeonghan was a different breed of man. He did not fall easily under pressure in the presence of a woman he was attracted to – he could sit here in awkward silence as long as you wanted. 
You’re not sure how long this showdown actually lasted, losing track of time. Seconds to minutes past, your drinks turned lukewarm and condensation formed on the inside of the unfilled regions of the cup. Admittedly, Jeonghan did grow more frustrated with you; yet he remained hopeful you’d crack. No one could withstand the “Yoon stare,” as Seokmin had dubbed it a few months prior at a drinking party. Nonetheless, perhaps he was a masochist, because for some reason, he was enjoying the company of someone who could keep up with him. 
“Yah!” a shrill comes from across the room. 
It was only a matter of seconds before Soonyoung, tip of his nose pink, came stomping over, removed his waterproof glove, and smacked the back of Jeonghan’s shoulder. Dami wasn’t far behind, though less upset. She threw you a questioning look, one that told you that you were going to have to explain yourself afterwards. 
“And you!” Soonyoung pointed an accusing finger at you. He then pointed it back and forth between you and Jeonghan. “You both suck leaving us stranded and helpless on the ice! You know, a couple of twelve-year-olds had to help us off! Took us almost twenty minutes!”
You shot Soonyoung an apologetic look, muttering a quiet ‘sorry’ before he quipped again, asking, “Also, like . . .” His eyes darted at the cups of hot chocolate and the way you were arranged at the table. Pieces began to click together. “What is this?” he tried to sound angry, “A date or something? I didn’t even know you guys knew each other!”
“Yeah,” Dami piped up, “A date or something?”
You coughed at this, turning your head away from them. 
Jeonghan made a note of this, raising a curious brow, before turning to Soonyoung. He shrugged and answered, “Or something.”
“Ugh,” Soonyoung groaned, “So you guys are like that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeonghan asked. 
Soonyoung opened his mouth to answer, but Dami was quick to cut him off, an agenda of her own brewing. “Soonyoung, wanna grab a bite? And maybe some hot chocolate? My treat? We can go sit by Chan and Wonwoo over there.”
“But–”
“Great!”
Dami winked at Jeonghan, quickly pushing the birthday boy away. 
Jeonghan was really curious now. He turned back to you, who was still pretending to be fascinated by the old linoleum floors and the tips of your worn winter boots. 
“Yah,” Jeonghan called. 
You looked up, lips pursed. 
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said. 
“And you didn’t answer mine,” you replied. 
“Are you usually this irritating?”
“I don’t know, am I?”
Jeonghan let out a huff, blowing his blonde bangs. 
You were reaching for your cup and started to rise from your seat. 
“Hey, where are you–”
“You look better with brown hair by the way,” you deadpanned. You pointed at your own head, “It looked . . . healthier that way.”
Those were your last words before you set off towards Wonwoo’s and Chan’s table to join the others. 
If you were just anyone, Jeonghan might have shot some sassy comment back at your insult.  However, like never before, Jeonghan suddenly became anxious – as if you were slipping away like a balloon streamer threatening to drift away from a child’s hand in a windstorm. He felt his heart beginning to race and tongue took control of him. He spun in his seat and blurted after you instead, “Will I see you again?”
You paused in your stride before throwing a confused and mildly annoyed look over your shoulder. Your expression was quick to shift though. A shit-eating grin slowly stretching across your face, you explained casually, “Life . . . is full of surprises, Yoon Jeonghan. Only time can tell.” You raise your cup towards him in a final salute. 
“Touche,” Jeonghan muttered under his breath. .
Jeonghan watched you settle next to Wonwoo, bumping shoulders with your friend who only shot you an annoyed look when he raised his head from his book. Pushing his black-rimmed glasses up his nose, he said something, eliciting a frown and sending you into a pout. It must’ve been a tease because Wonwoo started to chuckle. 
Suddenly, another figure entered the scene – a well-built young man, bundled in a navy blue parka that framed his figure in a masculine manner. He had a broad set of shoulders and a thin waist – oh, he definitely worked out. To make matters worse, he was handsome: a sharp jaw and slim nose, his eyes seemingly cold due to their shape, but his gaze, at least towards you, was soft and warm. A pair of matching navy blue earmuffs donned either side of his face; his hair was immaculately well-styled in a side slick despite the wind outside. Jeonghan wondered how much gel he must’ve used to keep it that way. The man greeted you with a few word, possibly a question to sit next to you as far as Jeonghan could tell, because you nodded and scooted over to make room for him. The young man is grinning, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, eyes curving into crescents and he settled in, shoulders bumping against yours. Wonwoo was smooshed up the side of the wall, seemingly displeased though continued to read uninterrupted. Jeonghan found it all the more interesting just how friendly and smiley you were with him relative to himself just moments earlier. 
Jeonghan would never admit it out loud, but it kind of . . . infuriated him? An unsettling feeling overcame his chest, Jeonghan unknowingly shifting in his seat, fingers crushing the paper cup of hot chocolate a little tighter.
“You’re jealous,” Seungcheol said, approaching his best friend behind. 
Jeonghan looked up then back to you. “Am not.”
“I saw you guys sitting together earlier,” Seungcheol remarked. 
“Yeah – she offered.”
“Oh?”
“But then totally blew me off.”
“Yet, all chummy with Mr. Broad and Handsome, over there,” Seungcheol spoke his mind. He chuckled like the asshole he could be.
“Shut up, will you?” Jeonghan snapped. 
“Jealous?” Seungcheol patted his back. 
“Am not!” Jeonghan screeched a little too defensively.
Seungcheol shook his head, doing his best to suppress his growing grin.
“Then answer me this,” Seungcheol started, “For some reason, despite not knowing much about her, despite her ‘blowing you off,’ there’s a piece of you that still wants to get to know her better. Am I right?”
Jeonghan paused for a moment, considering his friend’s words. Never had Seungcheol made him feel so conflicted. It wouldn’t make sense for him to want to get to know you better after that rude encounter, but the tension from earlier was . . . thrilling? Also, in your defense, you weren’t exactly intentionally rude – he had accused you first of flaking on him, still unclear if you actually did or didn’t. It was kind of addicting and a piece of him was curious as to how far he could push you and vice versa. 
An enigma he couldn’t resolve. 
“I-I guess?”
Seungcheol clapped suddenly, each one staccato and slow. “And so, Yoon Jeonghan meets his match.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jeonghan asked. 
Seungcheol shrugged, “You’ll see – only time can tell.”
That’s what she said. 
. . . .
“How did Jeonghan get my phone number?” 
“He did?”
“Apparently, he did – but I didn’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You tell me.”
Wonwoo shrugged. 
“You said he was into me.”
“What about you? Are you into him?”
Silence.
. . . .
It’s the early spring, a month before graduation, when you see each other again – much to Jeonghan’s dismay. 
Many things have changed, one of them being that Dami and Soonyoung started dating a couple of weeks after their traumatic encounter on the ice. They’re sickeningly cute, but the important thing was that they made so much sense. Though they were still early on in their relationship, it could very well just be the ‘honeymoon phase,’ but fights were far and few between. They were two wholesome souls with hardworking drives, lifting each other up, yet also somehow knowing what the other needs. All it took was a simple glance from across the room, Jeonghan would imagine some sort of telepathy going on between them before Soonyoung waddled over Dami and whispered a few words to her, her glum expression brightening instantaneously and vice versa.
Even Jeonghan couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy at the sight of them. A part of him was envious. Not in a toxic sense, but also longing when he’d meet his soulmate like that – not that he was some hopeless romantic and believed in soulmates or anything (he’d like to think had some agency in choosing his partner, rather than leaving it up to the good old hands of fate), but there was a nice feeling to the thought of being with someone who just got you like that. 
Many things had also not changed, the main one being his perennial quest to get close to you. 
Or perhaps rather, the lack thereof. 
Jeonghan spent the last several months debating if he should contact you again. You blocked his number; would it be right of him to slide into your Instagram DM’s? You didn’t follow one another, however, which made things all the more complex.
Yet, your last few words lingered in the back of his mind: Life is full of surprises, Yoon Jeonghan. Only time can tell.
What did that even mean? Were you hinting at him to pursue you? Was that your way of avoiding him?
Ironically, Jeonghan relented and decided to leave this up to fate. Seungcheol urged him to reach out to you, claiming the worst thing you could say to him was ‘no’, but Jeonghan wasn’t sure he could handle that currently – not when you left off on such a weird note. 
Maybe whatever gods out there were on his side, however, because Jeonghan ran into again at a karaoke bar. The two of you had more mutual friends than you thought – or rather really, you ended up being Wonwoo’s plus one to all these things, showing up glued to his hip. 
Neon color lights dance across the dark room with tacky, faux leather orange benches, as Minghao and Seokmin sing a trot rendition of Beyonce’s ‘All the Single Ladies,’ the latter somehow acquiring a sogo drum and beating an out of tune rhythm across the room. You were tucked away in a corner wedged in between Wonwoo and that handsome man from the chalet again. Despite the lively energy, you were only quietly swaying, seemingly lost in another world. The handsome man (Jeonghan had come to learn that his name was ‘Baekho’) whispered something in your ear every now and then, maybe checking up on you, but you’d only respond with a tight smile, quick to divert your eyes from him to your hands. Jeonghan couldn’t decide if it was out of coyness or you weren’t truly up to being here tonight. 
Jeonghan didn’t try to sit next to you when he arrived. For one reason being he’d arrived late so you were already settled and didn’t pay mind to him. The other reason being he didn’t want to raise suspicions trying to wedge himself between you and Baekho. 
Just what was exactly your relationship with Baekho? With how he seemed to whisper so tenderly to your ear, Jeonghan was almost inclined to think you were dating, but your eyes seemed so . . . hollow? It wasn’t quite the same as the way Dami’s orbs lit up when she saw Soonyoung. 
“Quit staring,” Seungcheol elbowed Jeonghan, interrupting his musing. Jeonghan winced, shooting Seungcheol a dirty look. 
“I wasn’t,” Jeonghan remarked. 
Seungcheol waved off his friend. “You should go talk to her – or at least say ‘hi.’”
“And why would I do that?” Jeonghan retorted stupidly, instantly regretting the words that just spewed from his mouth. 
His best friend gave him an incredulous look. “This is the first time you see her in months and that’s what you’re telling me? Please! You’re about to burn holes into Baekho’s head with those laser eyes of yours – no one is not not noticing the way your eyes keep lingering over to them.”
“Who am I to interfere with whatever they have?” Jeonghan waved his hand at some abstract object in the air as if it represented your relationship with Baekho. 
“Yoon Jeonghan – that’s who,” Seungcheol shoved him roughly, nearly sending him sailing out of his seat. 
“Hey!” his footing stuttered and if it weren’t for his fast, he would’ve face planted into the table.
“Go!” Seungcheol hissed. 
Eyes were already starting to linger on Jeonghan, the young man having no choice but to play it cool like he was getting up to go somewhere. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught you looking at him momentarily, heating his spine up and making him feel stupidly giddy. He let out a quiet cough, relaxing his shoulder and slipping his hand into his jean pocket, stepping over people’s feet in your direction. 
If he can’t put himself between you and Baekho, he’ll just ask Wonwoo to scoot over – no biggie, right?
Jeonghan was only about two steps away when he opened his mouth to greet you. However, you were quick to ignore him, shifting out of your seat and pointed to the exit of the karaoke room, whispering something quick to Baekho. He stood up, making room for you to leave and you scurried towards the opaque door. 
Well, fuck.
 “Your luck is terrible,” Wonwoo remarked. He scooted over to make room for Jeonghan. With a heavy sigh, the bleach blonde man flopped into the empty spot. If the others weren’t now belting Justin Bieber at the top of their lungs, you would’ve heard the hard impact between Jeonghan’s body and this godly uncomfortable bench. 
“Well, gee – thanks, like I didn’t know,” Jeonghan replied sarcastically. 
“I’m . . . impressed, honestly,” Wonwoo crossed his arms over his chest. 
“About what?”
“You’ve never been hung up on someone for this long – let alone, not make a move,” Wonwoo explained further. 
“Well I mean, I kind of left a sour taste in her mouth,” Jeonghan noted. 
Wonwoo tilted his head to the side, glancing at his friend from the side. Jeonghan ceased to notice, both due to the way the light from the flat screen was dancing across his glasses and he was simply lost in his own heartsick musing. 
“What did you do?” Wonwoo asked carefully. 
“Didn’t she tell you?” Jeonghan scoffed. “I confronted her about her blocking my number.”
“She blocked your number?” Wonwoo said slowly – asking more than he was stating. 
Ugh – why was he was playing stupid? Jeonghan thought you were good friends!
“Yeah,” Jeonghan kicked at the linoleum with the toe of his sneaker. “Shouldn’t you know that?”
Wonwoo kept a straight face, only nodding. He quietly noted that maybe he just forgot – he was busy these days. However, what Jeonghan doesn’t know is that Wonwoo was finally and slowly putting all the pieces of your prefatory love story together.
Oh, how miscommunication was an amazing plot tool. 
“You should go check on her,” Wonwoo nudged Jeonghan after a moment. 
“Huh?” Jeonghan knitted his brows together. “Why?”
Wonwoo shrugged. “She’s been gone for a bit – said, she went to get air. Tell her I sent you.”
Jeonghan narrowed his eyes on his friend. Just what was he playing at?
Wonwoo leaned in close, “Or would you rather me ask Baekho to go check on her?”
That was the impetus Jeonghan needed, snapping out of his suspicious daze and getting up from his seat. 
It was now or never.
. . . .
You don’t seem to notice Jeonghan when he tumbled out the front door of the karaoke bar, leaning against the red brick wall, eyes trained up in the sky. Jeonghan looked up briefly to see what you were looking at, only to note the gray heavy clouds blocking the moon and the stars. The streets were starting to become more dynamic as people were filling up the streets. Young couples giggled, hand-in-hand, groups of friends bellowing out in laughter at inside jokes, while elderly shop owners pitched their tent – their grills starting to heat up the grease that were just slathered across them. 
Yet, you only continued to sigh and look at the sky, your vibe not quite matching the eccentricity of what was going on inside or outside. 
Jeonghan neared you, hands tucked in his jeans still, scuffing the dark pavement as he called out, “Hey.”
You look down and to the side at the sound of his voice. 
“Hi,” you greeted him with a tight smile before looking away. 
He teetered on the balls of his feet. “Whatcha doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” you said. This sent Jeonghan back to your conversation at the skating chalet. However, your tone is less lively and playful this time – half-hearted. 
“It’s rude to answer a question by asking another question, you know?” Jeonghan joked. 
You chortled softly, “It wasn’t actually a question.”
Jeonghan took another step towards you, opting to stand a few feet away from you, side-by-side. “Same difference.”
Neither of speak further, letting silence envelope you both once more and suddenly it just felt like him and you in this little space despite the night coming alive around you. The silence is different this time though, in that rather than tension, there was comfort – a mutual, unspoken understanding that it was just needed. 
Jeonghan almost relished it, until his intrusive thoughts remembered–
“Wonwoo sent me to check on you by the way,” he blurted. 
You smile small, “That bastard.”
“Huh?”
You looked up at Jeonghan. “Well, you checked up on me,” you gestured back to the building behind you. “You can go back – I’m okay.”
Jeonghan cocked his head slightly at you, a crease forming between his brows as he takes you in. There was a bite to all your responses, but it lacked your usual flair. He’s not sure what it was exactly, but something told him maybe, you weren’t as okay as you led onto be. 
“What?” you asked when he didn’t reply or move. 
Sometimes, maybe it was better not to think too hard about it, Jeonghan decided. 
Maybe, he just needed to do what felt right. 
“Do you . . .” his voice trailed off as he hesitated for a moment, but he picked up right again. “Do you wanna go for a walk actually?”
You were taken aback, shoulders settling back and your faux smile falling into a small pout instead. 
Despite his cool and collected demeanor that he hoped he was displaying, in his head, he was quietly chanting, “Please say yes,” as if it was a mantra that would trance you into going on this walk with him. 
Maybe it does work, however, because even though you don’t say ‘yes,’ you take off in a direction without him. Jeonghan froze momentarily, in disbelief and relief, jaw slack and small breath escaping his lips. 
You must’ve sensed the lack of his presence behind you because you spin around, your jean pleated skirt twirling prettily in the process. 
Cocking your head at him, you simply asked, “Coming?”
Maybe, Jeonghan should leave it up to fate more. 
(Or just Wonwoo.)
. . . .
Fate was cruel. 
And Jeonghan was over dramatic and impatient – at least, in Seungcheol’s eyes. 
The walk that evening was rather uneventful, but it gave Jeonghan hope – so much damn hope. Initially, Jeonghan only tailed you until you asked him why he was doing that and he jogged to walk beside you. Naturally, your footsteps fell in sync, Jeonghan wondering if he was the only one who noticed. Far and few words were exchanged like at the skating center, but neither of you minded. Like prior, the silence was tranquil, bringing a sense of calm and comfort to the both of you. You seemed to relax, a genuine smile springing on your face as you passed various shops, eyes lighting up at the sight of the few bakeries and the few childish remarks of trinkets in the windowsill. 
To be frank, and Jeonghan wasn’t always, even with himself, you were fucking adorable – and he wanted to know this feeling more. This sensation that melted his heart every time his gaze flickered over to you, this joy that fills his body and courses through his veins; yet despite all this heart fluttering sensation, there was a sense of simplicity and effortlessness that accompanied it all. It made him feel like he could do this . . . for a long time. 
Maybe he was insane and beyond himself – he hardly knew anything about you, but he liked it. He wasn’t sure he felt this way before. He was a non-believer of love at first sight, but a piece of him wanted to defy this reality he knew. He wondered if this is how Soonyoung felt about Dami on the regular. 
Jeonghan doesn’t find out why you were feeling down earlier that evening. Jeonghan doesn’t ask to exchange Instagram’s with you. Jeonghan doesn’t ask when he will see you again because he knew he would – he had to. 
He reveled about you to Seungcheol. The short twenty minute walk felt like a lifetime; when it came to a halt and you arrived back at the karaoke bar and how he didn’t want to go inside, but he did anyway. He wondered what you did the next day and the day after. Did you go back to those bakeries with anyone? Did you buy that scarf you were eyeing through the clear glass?
But okay, maybe it was a mistake to leave it all up to fate. The thrill of it was quick to fade and entered misery and longing. 
Jeonghan didn’t meet you again until graduation.  
Countless, prolonged, corny speeches about the future and hard work given, long lines of people waiting for their empty diploma cases passed, a flurry of black caps thrown, tears cried, cheers shouted, and hugs exchanged later, Jeonghan spotted you in the middle of an aisle by yourself. You were waving good-bye to a classmate before you turned to walk down the path of green grass alone. Eyes trained on the ground, one foot in front of another, you unknowingly made your way towards him. There was a smalling, toothless smile on your face slowly fading with each step. 
You must’ve sensed his presence because you stopped a few feet away. The smile returned, making Jeonghan’s heart skip a beat. His face mirrored your own, the world seeming to fade around the both of you once again. 
“Hey stranger,” you quipped. He was holding his graduation cap in one hand. You note how his roots were showing, the bleach blonde growing and now shading over his eyes. 
“Hey,” he greeted. Folding his hands behind him, he took a few steps closer towards you. He tipped his head forward, “Congratulations.”
You saluted him and sent a playful wink in his direction. “You likewise.”
Jeonghan chuckled. His eyes wandered up to the sky a bit as his next question formed. How did he ask this without making it too obvious?
“What are your plans after all of this?” Jeonghan asked. He held his hands out, gesturing to the field of new graduates greeting their friends and family joyfully. 
“Um,” you chuckled, “Dinner with my family probably?” You scratched your head and looked around for them briefly before turning back to him. Your lips parted to ask ‘you’, but Jeonghan beat you to it.
“No,” Jeonghan chuckled, waving you off, “I meant like . . . future-future – career plans and all.”
“Oh,” you said, your voice much softer now. “That.”
Jeonghan tilted his head curiously. 
“I’ll be . . . around,” you pressed your lips together and chuckled softly, “Um . . . I’m honestly not sure – what I had planned, didn’t pan out.”
There was a flash of worry across your face – Jeonghan probably presuming you were thinking he thought you were pathetic and a failure. However, that was not how he felt. If anything, his heart panged for you a little. He didn’t claim to know what you were feeling, heck, he hardly knew much about you still – Jeonghan would like to think he knew a thing or two about disappointment. 
“C-can I?” he stammered. He opened his arms for you slightly, quietly asking for a hug. 
Your eyes widened. “U-um.” Your feet were already clumsily tripping over one another towards him though. 
Jeonghan pulled you in, your lips pressed into the shoulder of his graduation gown. Initially tense in his hold, with each breath, his woody cologne overwhelming your senses, the hug became more bearable . . . comfortable. You relaxed, bringing your hands up around his waist. You felt him patting your back gently as if to quietly reassure you. 
“The world doesn’t just end because one plan went awry,” he offered. 
You snorted and joked,  “Just what I needed – another speech on resilience.”
Jeonghan pulled away, grinning at you really hard. He could’ve sworn he probably looked like an idiot, but he didn’t really care – this could be the last time he saw you ever. 
“The world has a funny way of working out,” Jeonghan pressed on. “Fate . . . it isn’t too bad – most of the time.”
“Darling!” you heard your mother call from behind you. Instantly, your cheeks grew hot, already envisioning 101 scenarios as to how this conversation would go with Jeonghan meeting your family like this. Your mother in particular, was a fickle woman who had a lot of predictions. 
“There you are!” your younger brother jumped on you, hooking his arm around your neck. 
“Congratulations!” you heard one of your cousins shout as well, wedging celebratory balloons between you and Jeonghan. 
Jeonghan chuckled to himself. His heart sinking a little – maybe this is all you and Jeonghan would be to each other. 
“Who’s this, Y/N?” your mother asked, of course, first of all people and things. She gestured to Jeonghan. Her eyes were curious, scanning him up and down. 
Your younger brother released you and you straightened yourself out. You waved for Jeonghan to hold up his hand to greet your mom. 
“Mom, this is Yoon Jeonghan, my uh . . .” 
What were you two exactly?
“Friend,” Jeonghan finished for you. “Y/N’s friend – we met through Wonwoo.”
“Friend?” your mom repeated suspiciously. 
“Friend,” Jeonghan nodded in reassurance. 
“Friend,” you said again – it left a funny taste in your mouth though. 
“Well, pleasure to meet you,” your mom took his hand. Your dad, a kind, but quieter man, followed shortly after. 
After some small talk, Jeonghan excused himself from your family, explaining he needed to find his own. He gave you one last longing look when he said goodbye, sending you off with a small wave of his shoulder. It was accompanied by a tender smile; a bittersweet tint to his eyes. It made your heartache a little, a sense of panic overtaking you when your family pulled you away.
You decided, you didn’t want this to be the last time you saw Yoon Jeonghan. 
Yes, perhaps, he did mention moving to another city for his new job, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want to lose this chance. 
You asked your cousin to lend you a pen and hastily rip out a scrap of the placeholder in your diploma (it wasn’t your actual degree anyways – that would be coming in the mail after your finals were graded). Quickly, you scribble your phone number onto it. Folding it up, you excuse yourself briefly from your family, not caring if your mom noticed and would lecture you later about how girls shouldn’t make the first move and that if Jeonghan liked you, he would’ve already asked you out. 
“Jeonghan!” you shouted. 
He turned around, a few steps away from who you presumed was his family. They also tuned in, eyes turning to observe the interaction. 
He was smiling, though evidently confused. 
Pressing your lips into a thin line, you marched towards him and held up the folded paper in your hand, gesturing for him to take it. He didn’t take it. His eyes only flickered from you then the paper, then back at you. 
When he doesn’t make a move, you reach for his wrist, pressing it into his palm and folding his fingers over, ignoring the way your cheeks felt ablaze.
“See you around, Yoon Jeonghan.”
. . . .
[Jeonghan]: You fucker
[Wonwoo]: Excuse me?
[Jeonghan]: [insert image]
[Jeonghan]: Your handwriting is HORRENDOUS!
[Jeonghan]: It was a 4 not a 6!
[Wonwoo]: LMAO
[Jeonghan]: Fuck you
[Wonwoo]: Hey – think of it as part of the plot. You’ll thank me later. 
[Jeonghan]: Whatever
[Wonwoo]: Well???
[Jeonghan]: ?
[Wonwoo]: Are you just gonna curse me or are you going to text her!?
. . . .
[Uknonwn number]: Hi 🙂
[Unknown number]: This is Yoon Jeonghan – please don’t block me!
[Unknown number]: . . . um hello?
[Unknown number]: omg did i fuck this up again
[Y/N]: [your message not delivered]
[jeonghan]: well fuck. 
[Y/N]: Haha – jk. 
[Y/N]: Hi Jeonghan 🙂
. . . .
You and Jeonghan found yourselves texting daily and calling nearly nightly. It started out as simple banter, but evolved to mundane questions of what you ate for lunch to 3AM discussions ranging anywhere from your post-bac thesis to whether straws had one or two holes. 
The calls at night were short on the weekdays, but they were disgustingly long on the weekends. Rather than going out on Friday nights, Jeonghan would make excuses to not go to the bar with his new colleagues as to just be able to talk with you on the phone for hours and hours. At some point, they caught on that Friday nights were reserved for you, teasing him about the much anticipated call as they left the office. Jeonghan being the seemingly transparent and nonchalant man he is, just chuckled and brushed it off. 
Typically, he’d give you a ring around 8PM on FaceTime. He’d watch you cook, maybe even eat his delivery while you ate dinner, and you’d talk for hours thereafter about everything and nothing into the early morning hours, only stopping when you drifted off to sleep or he claimed he was aging prematurely and was tired. 
“Hey, can I ask you something?” you whispered into your phone one evening. His end of the call was already dark, only a lamp in the distance illuminating his features. You peaked up to see him keeping one eye open underneath his bed of hair that was an ashy sombre now, blending his dark roots with a more neutral blonde. 
He hummed softly, signaling he was still there. “Technically, you just did.”
You chortled. “Prick – maybe I won’t.”
“I’m kidding,” he raised his head to look at you. Sleep was heavy on his eyes, his lids weighing down. “What’s up?”
Biting the inside of your cheek, you decide to forgo the question that has been haunting you recently. You opt to redirect the conversation in another direction instead. 
“I got an internship,” you told him. 
This truly woke him off. “What? Y/N, that’s amazing! Congratulations! Where at?”
“Park Consultants,” you told him, “But, I’m not sure I should take it.”
“Love, what?” Jeonghan said, confused.
You pretend to bury you face in frustration, but you were really trying to hide the way your lips wobbled at the nickname: Love. 
When did the two of you get this far?
Despite things going well between you and Jeonghan, there were always those thoughts that lingered in your mind. 
It was clear, there was nothing ‘just platonic’ about your relationship, as Wonwoo had pointed out several times. “Just get married already!” he’d joke. 
Yet, the unconventional nature of it, made you wary. 
It was only when Jeonghan moved away did the two of you become closer and it didn’t sit well with you. You remember vehemently telling Dami you couldn’t do long distance relationships – you had trust issues and were the jealous type. Yet, here you were glued to your phone most times of the day you weren’t working to talk to him. Your perspective of him was limited to a small rectangular screen – was he really who he presented himself to be? Your mother had always warned you about men like Jeonghan too – charming and playful with a smooth tongue, but snakes behind your back. You wondered if he was seeing someone else. In technicality, it was within his right; the two of you weren’t anything in particular. She also told you once that girls should not initiate, but be pursued – at least from graduation on, that was definitely not your story. 
“I wonder,” you stabbed your wooden spoon into your ice cream turning to Wonwoo, “Could it be that I just . . . like him because he reassured me at my lowest?”
You and Wonwoo had met up for ice cream. Tonight, Jeonghan’s family was visiting him, so he had told you ahead of time he couldn’t call as he would be spending time with him. The topic of you and Jeonghan resurfaced and you needed a reasonable sounding board. 
“What do you mean?” Wonwoo sniffled, feeling the tip of his nose grow cold from the chilled treat. 
“I just don’t want to end up being one of those girls who fall for someone because he was like, my ‘knight in shining armor’ who whisked me away when I was a damsel in distress,” you explained. “Graduate school didn’t quite pan out – I had just gotten rejected when we went on that walk that night we went to the karaoke bar and then graduation. I’m just worried I’m swooning for the wrong reason. I don’t want my relationship to be hinged on pity and depending on him.”
Wonwoo snorted, much to your surprise. Your expression was quick to change into a scowl. “What?”
“Are you hearing yourself right now?” Wonwoo pushed his glasses up the ridge of his nose. “When were you ever a damsel in distress? And if anything, Jeonghan was never and will never be anyone’s knight in shining armor.”
“I don’t think you get it,” you muttered, picking at the clump of cookie dough. 
“Yes,” Wonwoo swallowed the ice cream left in his mouth before continuing. “You may have met him at your lowest, but that’s not what matters. He didn’t save you and you didn’t save him. Neither of you needed saving to begin with – you’re both capable of picking yourselves up in the situation as shown.” Wonwoo held out his hands, “The way I see it, he was the first person you could readily be vulnerable with and that is what matters. Someone you feel safe with – amidst other things of course. Y/N you could hardly meet up with me that week and Jeonghan did it in the matter of seconds. I think that says something.”
“But you know, my mom said–”
“Fuck what your mom says – trust yourself for once, okay?” Wonwoo rolled his eyes. To his defense, you’ve spiraled about your mother’s expectations for you to him many times before and it was tiring. It was rare that Wonwoo just swore like that. “Maybe he’s not the stellar, perfect future son-in-law she has preached your entire life, but that’s okay. Trust him – trust Jeonghan. Despite his annoying antics sometimes, he’s a good guy – he’s always been. If it’s meant to be, it’ll work out.”
. . . .
Jeonghan returned to the city almost a year and a half later for the holidays. The both of you try to arrange for plans to meet up, but in the spirit of the holiday season, timing doesn’t quite work out right due to family. Jeonghan invited you to his family Christmas party, but you suddenly became bashful, unsure of how he’d introduce you to his immediate family, let alone his cousins, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. 
Friend? Girlfriend? Friend girl?
You declined politely, explaining to him it was too overwhelming. Gratefully, Jeonghan was understanding, promising to stay in town a little longer after the New Year’s for you – it made you feel all weird and tingling inside. 
Like you were special. 
Nonetheless, you were fated to meet once more before that as Minghao and his now fiance threw a New Year’s Eve party at his penthouse and you were both invited. You were unsure if Jeonghan would make it, however, as he mentioned his younger sister had a small celebration she wanted him to attend. You end up third wheeling Soonyoung and Dami to the party as Soonyoung offered to drive, but mingle amongst the others. 
Just as you’re finding yourself getting more immersed in your conversation with Seungcheol and his girlfriend, the lighthearted and drunken banter regarding his tattoo experience was interrupted by a nerve wracking, but familiar, presence. Someone’s hand slipped around your waist, a warmth blooming across your body, the silver long-sleeved dress seemingly not so warm. Smile fading, you turn to the figure standing in the once empty spot on your left to find Jeonghan occupying the space with a playful smirk stretching from ear-to-ear. He gives Seungcheol an apologetic look and then pulls you closer into his side. The latter grinned, raising his cup in greeting and a silent good luck.
Despite his flirtatious advances, there was a glint of alarm and plea in his eyes. Your lips parted to question him, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, Jeonghan leaned forward, turning his head to better dip into the junction of your neck and shoulder. Whether it was intentional or unintentional, his lips grazed against the shell of your ear. The waft of soju about him stung your nose; the warm, small breeze from his small, hesitant breath made you shudder. You gripped your own red solo cup a little tighter, crinkling the edges in the process. 
There was no ‘hello’, ‘I missed you’, and no wave. He simply leaned in and asked, “Dance with me?” His voice was low, loud enough just for you to hear as if he was sharing a secret no one else dares to know. 
He was wiggling his eyebrows playfully when he pulled back to look at you. The way he tugged you towards the crowd in the living room, fingers hooking tightly with yours, told you there really wasn’t a choice. 
Whether you want to or not, you were going to dance with him. 
Jeonghan handed off his red solo cup to a random presumed man standing by, chatting up a girl in a strapless silver mini dress. The stranger looked confused, but Jeonghan didn’t mind – his eyes were trained on you, as if you were the only person in the room. The bodies bumping into him didn’t seem to bother him; his grip on your hand was unrelenting, fearful to lose you amidst the sea of intoxicated party goers. His roguish expression made your breath hitch; you had to consciously remind yourself to breathe. 
Your musing was interrupted by Jeonghan’s sudden pull. Swiftly, your feet tumbled over one another and before you could register, you were flushed against his chest. Jeonghan brought up his hand, ghosting against the small of your back until his arm is fully wrapped around your waist.
“What are you doing?” you muttered, pressing a hand to his chest. 
He grinned like you were the only thing at this party that brought him joy.
“That’s no way to greet a friend after so long,” Jeonghan frowned. 
“Neither is sleazily dragging me onto the dance floor,” you faked a pout, “Consent in this day and age is sexy, Jeonghan.”
“Like you’d say no to dancing with me,” he teased. “But if you insist,” he stepped back and gave you a knowing look. “Would you like to dance with me, Miss Y/N?”
You giggled girlishly, nodding and extending an arm for him to come back. 
He had a point – you’re not sure what you wouldn’t let Jeonghan do at this point. 
The music suddenly slows, the fast and heavy beat melding into something mellower. 
Fate was cruel, but sometimes, it was nice. 
(Or maybe Wonwoo just requested Jihoon to DJ a slower song – just a thought.)
“How’ve you been?” Jeonghan finally asked. He peered at you, the lights bouncing off his dark irises. His steps slowed and you followed, rocking from side to side to meet the new rhythm. 
“You ask that as if we don’t talk every day,” you remarked. You’re embarrassed, nonetheless, turning your head so you don’t meet his eyes. 
“It has been precisely fourteen days and,” Jeonghan peered at his watch quickly, “twelve-ish hours since we last talked on the phone. A lot can happen in that time.”
“Yeah?” you challenged. “Such as?”
He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully as he came to a halt. Hand slipping down to link with your own, he ran his thumb across your knuckles as he finally caught your gaze. You were nervous – or maybe, it was just the champagne coursing through your veins. Your eyes were blown wide and glossy, breathing shallow. You were still, holding your arms close to your body. He did wonder if there was a piece of him that fucked up. 
“Could I show you instead?” Jeonghan asked. 
He didn’t wait for an answer, only holding onto your hand firmly and weaving in and out of the crowd until you met a set of stairs that led you to the top floor of the penthouse. 
Oh my god . . . he wouldn't, right?
Jeonghan moved to a room on the left, twisting the pearly white knob, and pausing briefly to make sure it was empty before entering. 
He pulled you in, shutting and locking the door behind you. It was dark – only the city lights and slivers of the waxing moon slipping through the murky white tulle curtains. It lit up a slit from the large balcony window, tracing a path to Jeonghan and you, who were now pressed up against the door. 
He was awfully close – one tip of your chin and your lips would touch. 
Wait – what!?
Why were you thinking about kissing him?
The franticness of it all must’ve been evident on your features, Jeonghan’s sly grin only growing further, eyes curving to mimic the moon. There was a wink of light in his dark brown orbs – warm, mischievous– before he pushed away, tucking his hands into his suit pants. 
“Just kidding,” he finally quipped.
You let out a small breath and ease away from the door. 
He pointed a teasing finger at you, “You were flustered, weren’t you?”
“Shut up,” you grumbled. Your palms grew sweaty and the tips of your ears grew hot. You were about to turn and open the door again, when you heard Jeonghan quietly call for you to wait. 
You spun around to face him again, finding him scratching his temple, he turned back to face you. “That’s not why I brought you here.”
“Huh?” you questioned. 
“I figured it was time to ask you, um . . . be an adult about it,” he continued. Jeonghan smiled at you, his lips in a tilt as he was amused but trying so hard to stick to the agenda. He muttered, “Wonwoo said you would never get it until I asked like this so . . .” Before you have a chance to question him again, Jeonghan sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, inhaling sharply. “Look, I’m not the best at being . . . uh, explicit about my feelings, but for you, I figured I could be, but um . . . say, uh, what do you say, love?”
And your world stopped, breath hitching. Your dress suddenly felt too tight. 
What did he just call you?! Again!
“I . . . like you a lot and I have for quite some time now, if you haven’t noticed,” Jeonghan pressed on. He exhaled deeply, letting out a quiet whoosh. Jeonghan tilted his head back and fidgeted for a moment, eliciting at a quiet chortle from you. “What if we tried this . . . dating thing? Yeah?”
The tension Jeonghan felt now was unbearable. It was different from the one at the skating chalet, different from the one at the karaoke bar. Like a rubber band pulled taut to its wits end, he was barely holding on as your quietness ensued. 
You suddenly start laughing, throwing your head back in guffaw and slapping your knee. Jeonghan was a bit scared – both just of you and what that meant. Did you not feel the same? Was he the one who got played? 
Did he really just rearrange his life to be rejected?
Heels clicking against the wooden floorboards, your laughter died down as you made your way towards him. Each step felt so long and far away, but it was only a matter of seconds before your arms were wrapped around his neck. Your fingers played with the fringes of his back hairs, eyes gazing up at him – indecipherable, if he was being honest. 
Maybe Jeonghan wasn’t as good at reading you as he thought. 
Taking him by surprise, you placed a chaste kiss on his lips. It was brief, but it burned – it was efficient if your goal was to suck all the air out of Jeonghan’s lungs in the matter of the two seconds your lips touched. 
That or he was just stunned at your boldness – it was hard to predict. 
“You look nice with black hair, by the way,” you noted when you pulled away. Your ran your hand through the front fringes, then teased them back into place. 
“What–”
You tiptoed, giving him another kiss – this one longer. He wasn’t prepared, stiff at first, but quick to lean into it and adjust himself to better slot your lips together. Jeonghan gripped onto your waist, the material of your dress bunching into his hands. 
“Took you long enough, asshole,” you muttered in between pecks when you pulled away. Jenoghan’s lips chased after you, not quite ready to let go. 
“Hey! Your best friend was the one who gave me the wrong number,” Jeonghan shot back. “We could’ve been dating two years ago.”
“Not my fault he writes like a third grader,” you chuckled. 
“He said it was for the plot.”
“Can we just stop talking about Wonwoo when we’re kissing? It feels kind of weird.”
“You know, if you think about it, he’s kind of the main character without being the main character.”
“Okay,” you pulled away, pushing at his chest lightly.
“Wait!” Jeonghan giggled, “Come back – I’ll stop.”
“If we stay here any longer, people will get the wrong idea,” you tried to come up with an excuse.
Jeonghan wiggled his brows playfully, pulling you back. “Like I care?”
. . . .
[Present]
“So, that’s why the joke was that Nina was conceived that night,” Wonwoo explained to Leah. 
“But she wasn’t because timing wise that wouldn’t make sense – I didn’t carry her for a year and a half,” you interjected. You quickly added, “We didn’t do anything either – just kissed and Jeonghan’s social battery was low so we stayed there until midnight and then I fell asleep.”
“I get that – don’t worry,” Leah waved you off. “But . . . uh, the two of you got married pretty fast then – only a year of dating, huh?”
You and Jeonghan looked at each other, gaze softening. 
“Yeah,” Jeonghan shrugged nonchalantly, “I mean that and a year and a half of missed opportunities and pining, but  . . . I dunno, it just made sense.”
You nodded in agreement. 
“That’s sweet,” Leah smiled, “I’m glad it worked out for you guys in the end and you got that job to bring you back here. Fate is so quirky sometimes.”
“Babe,” Wonwoo shoved a spoonful of chocolate cake into his mouth. His words were garbled, “Please don’t make them sentimental – they’re kinda gross and sappy when they get into it.”
“Uncle Wonwoo, mommy says no talking with food in your mouth!” Nina exclaimed. 
He gave the little girl an apologetic look and swallowed . . . without chewing. 
Three pairs of eyes widened, the little one not thinking much of it. 
“Did you just–” Y/N started, but was too stunned to continue. 
“Are you okay?!” Leah exclaimed. She passed him her own glass of water. Wonwoo wiped the corner of his mouth and smiled sheepishly, first at her then you and Jeonghan. “Please don’t choke – we’re getting married in less than a month!”
“Mommy, mommy! Can I try?” Nina exclaimed. 
“No,” you deadpanned. Nina knew that voice, going back to play with her spoon instead. 
Jeonghan guffawed, “Holy shit, I can’t believe you’re marrying him!”
Woonwoo gave him a dark look, gesturing to his daughter. Anyone who knew Wonwoo knew he didn’t like cussing, let alone, around children. “Language,” he scolded. 
. . . .
[Bonus]
“Hey, I have a question for you,” you stated as you wiped the wet cup. Jeonghan had his nose stuck in the dishwasher, making sure all the items were arranged appropriately. 
“Hm?” He waited for you to continue. 
“We all know why I fell for you, but . . . what made you fall for me? At first, that is,” you asked. “I feel like I never got a clear grasp on that.”
Jeonghan grinned, standing up from his crouched position. He stepped towards you, planting a hand on your waist. “That’s easy.”
“Is it?” you raised your eyebrows, curiously. 
He hummed and nodded adamantly. “I thought you knew.”
“Well, you’re not the most forward about everything,” you noted. 
“You remember the perilla leaf debate?” 
“Yeah.”
“It was that,” he explained, “Dami had asked and your answer was that you’re the jealous type, so you’d peel it for everyone to avoid bad vibes and hurting your own feelings – and while saying that, you were actually peeling the perilla for everyone.”
Your jaw grew slack, swatting at him with the dish towel. “That’s it?” you exclaimed. 
“I mean, it was an added bonus that you were kind of cute,” Jeonghan joked. 
“You suck.”
“What? I love the self-awareness and honesty!”
471 notes · View notes
ness-is-here-f1 · 6 months
Text
Max Verstappen
Summary: Max stepped up as a father for your daughter Ava. (This is a mess but please give it a shot 😅)
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One of the main reasons you didn't want to date Max was because of your daughter, Ava. At the time Max asked you out Ava was not even a year old and you were a single mother. Your priority was your daughter and you were certain a guy like Max is not looking for a family or have time to raise another man's child. When you rejected him you made it perfectly clear that you and Ava are a package deal and you have no time to go on dates with guys you can't see a future with. Max surprised you when he just smiled after you rejected him and asked you out again, assuring you that he has no problem with you being a single mother and he is not just asking you on a date to pass the time. It took a lot of persuasion and assurance from Max and your friends till you agreed. 
Now two years later you don't regret going on the date with Max for even a second. Not only has he proven to be a good partner, he has also stepped up as a father figure for Ava. The little girl adores him and Max just loves her as his own. 
You three have celebrated all the milestones together and now about to reach another one, which is moving in together. It was a sensible and right decision for your relationship and the little family. 
"I think this room will be a little bigger, don't you think?" You asked your boyfriend as you looked around the empty room, holding Ava on your hip. 
"No. It's perfect for Ava," Max argued as he pulled you to the middle of the room. "We can paint the wall blue. Her bed will go against that wall," He pointed in the direction. "And of course her cupboards and table and chairs will take up half the space. If the room is any smaller she will have no space to play," He explained. 
"And my toys!" Ava excitedly said. The almost three year old can feel something big is happening and she too is excited along with you and Max. 
"See, our little sunshine agrees with me," Max pointed out, giving you a childish triumphant smile before taking Ava in his arms. "What do you think, Ava? You like this room?"
"Yes," The little girl instantly replied. 
"It's two against one, y/n," Max teased you.
"I hate you two," You playfully replied, admitting defeat. 
"So it's settled. We are moving into this house," Max pulled you close with his other arm and kissed your temple. "This is going to be our home. 
You smiled and rested your head against his chest, imagining your life in the house. Ava copied you and rested her head against him as well. 
***
Max was impatient and annoyed at the medical staff. While playing Ava fell and hurt her knee and Max rushed her to the hospital, demanding the best care. He knew you were in an important meeting with a client and decided it will be best not to call you. 
"I don't think an x-ray is needed Mr. Verstappen," The doctor assured Max once again. "Your daughter only scratched her knee."
"But she is in pain," Max argued as Ava tightly held his arm, her eyes puffy from crying. 
"It's nothing a little rest can't fix," The doctor replied. "Look, we will dress the wound and put some bandages and within a week she will be fine."
"Are you sure?" Max still sounded skeptical. 
"Yes," The doctor smiled. "I will even prescribe an ointment which will help the wound heal faster."
Ava was holding his hands the entire time while her wound was being cleaned and dressed. The lollipop at the end managed to cheer her up a little. However, Max believed walking would put her in more pain so he carried her to his car. 
When you got home you found Max in your bedroom, putting the prescribed ointment on Ava's knee. 
"Is it okay? Does it hurt?" Max asked. 
"A little bit," Ava nodded. She is still a little shaken from the minor incident. 
"Of course it does. I don't think that doctor knew what he was doing," Max replied as he put a new bandage over the wound. "Tomorrow I will take you to my doctor."
***
You three finally moved into your new home. No one is more excited than Ava, a bigger room for her and a lot of space. She excitedly swung her legs as she sat on the dining table and waited for dinner. 
Max helped you with the plates and set the table. It's just the three of you in your new home about to enjoy a home cooked meal. 
"Do you like it here?" Max asked Ava before giving you a kiss and sitting down. 
"Yes! This place is huge," Ava showed him with her hands. 
Max laughed as he took her plate to cut her food. 
"Don't do it for her, Max," You warned your boyfriend. "Ava needs to learn how to cut her own food."
"I will just cut half of it," Max replied. "Otherwise you know she will struggle with it and make a mess."
"That's how she will learn," You calmly argued as Ava patiently waited to get her plate back. 
"Just…let me do this," Max smiled. "She can learn how to do it herself the next two weeks when I am not here."
Now how can you argue with him after that? You know Max misses you and Ava dearly whenever he has to go to a different country to race, and it is not often that you two can accompany him. 
***
It's a special weekend for Max because both you and Ava are attending. Of course you didn't enter the paddock with Max since Ava is with you and you both want to protect her from the public eye. Max arranged for you two to get to the Red Bull hospitality from a different route. 
Ava was stealing everyone's heart in the Red Bull team. Max personally introduced her to everyone. He even introduced her to the other drivers, some already knew her and some met her for the first time. Ava was in his arms the entire time. 
Surprisingly Ava was calm when you two were in the garage while qualifying was going on. She was wearing her headphones and her eyes glued to the screen closest to her, getting excited and pointing at it whenever the camera showed Max. 
Of course Max got pole and as soon as he was done with the interviews he ran back to the garage to greet you two. 
"For a moment I thought Charles was going to be on pole," You teased him before giving him a hug and kissing him. 
"You think too highly of Ferrari," Max laughed. 
"You said Fewawi sucks," Ava innocently added, not knowing she threw Max under the bus. 
"Max!" Your eyes went wide as soon as your daughter said the word. 
Max froze for a second. He couldn't believe Ava repeated the word even after he told her many times not to. 
"Umm…I have no idea where she learned that from," Max tried to defend himself. "Maybe she heard Charles, you know they met earlier."
"Fewawi sucks," Ava repeated. 
All the Red Bull employees present in the garage laughed. 
"You are going to get me killed, little lady," Max playfully scolded Ava as he took her in his arms. "At least she didn't say the F word," He joked. 
"Max!" You gasped, lightly hitting his arm. 
"I am kidding," He laughed as he held your hand. The cameras outside the garage of course fixated on you three. "Come on, let's go to my motorhome. I think it's almost her nap time."
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sophiethewitch1 · 7 months
Text
A Dramatic Irony
A/n: Trying to combat writer's block so I decided to do this little drabble. Spoilers for the WHB prologue, and also includes my theory that MC will turn out to be God in some form or capacity. Because why the hell else would the angels turn over to our side?
GAME IS 18+ THIS DRABBLE ISN'T, BUT EVEN THE PROLOGUE HAS ADULT CONTENT! MINORS PLEASE BE SENSIBLE!!!
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“So, it was you? This whole time?” His lips graze against your throat. He’s warm, of course he is. All that holy light spilling out? He’s so warm it’s almost uncomfortable.
Everything about this is uncomfortable, really. But of course, like always, you’re at the centre of it. Of every situation, from the depths of hell to the cloudy tops of heaven.
“I’m not Him,” you grit out, your body shivering. You don’t dare move. Not with Gabriel, the man who had sworn to kill you, who had chased you over hell with armies of feathered fiends, with his teeth at your jugular.
It doesn’t matter the way he shakes just the same as you. It doesn’t matter that his fingers skim delicately - reverently - across your stomach. It doesn’t matter that those eyes that before looked at you with absolutely nothing inside, now seemed to overflow. With love, obsession.
You know, before all this, you’d been an atheist. Before an unholy angel had crawled out of your computer and a righteous demon had saved you and your best friend’s life, you had thought God couldn’t exist. That the world couldn’t be so cruel if someone like Him truly did exist. That your childhood wouldn’t be mired in tragedy, that you wouldn’t struggle to get out of bed every day. That you wouldn’t have to blink away flashes of the scent of copper and soap.
And of course, then you’d made a deal with the devil. You’d gone to hell. You’d broken countless contracts, and warred against heaven. You’d had to fight for every second of your life, and you’d done it bitterly, angrily.
Angry at this God that had disappeared, and angry at His stupid mistake of making every angel madly in love with him. Angry at how He never thought of the consequences of his actions, of how He never imagined a world He wouldn’t exist in. How just by your birth, you’d been destined to suffer. How your parents would have died no matter what, how you would always have had to walk this thorny path.
How He never seemed to consider what could happen when you created one of the strongest beings in the universe and forgot to give them a fucking moral compass.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, ignoring your words. His too-warm body crowding in too close to yours, as your fists curl against his chest, desperately trying to push him away. It’s no use because no matter what’s in your blood, you aren’t strong enough - what is Solomon’s, and what is His.
Because, apparently, those stupid mistakes you’d cursed God for, were yours.
“I’m not Him,” you repeat, hands moving to claw at his throat. He doesn’t react beyond a small sigh of pleasure, curling into your touch like a cat in the sun. “I’m not Him. I don’t have His memories. I’m not Him.”
“I told you, didn’t I? I didn’t have any negative feelings towards you. I’m sorry, I’ll fix it. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Please, just let me stay by your side?”
It’s such a strange dichotomy. The angel who sees this as a beautiful, miraculous reunion. And you, who sees this a tragedy. One you could never escape. The angel from before, swinging his scythe at your throat, and the one who now presses plush lips against that same skin. It’s too ironic, isn’t it? It just can’t be true. It just doesn’t make any sense.
“I don’t want you by my side,” you sob, but he just shushes you, pressing kisses against your head and across your face. He licks up your tears, groaning at the taste.
It’s too cruel. You have to wonder if the old you, the one you can’t remember, ran from this.
His hands tighten around your waist. It doesn’t really matter what happened before, because you know you won’t be able to run this time.
776 notes · View notes
luminoustarlight · 4 months
Text
As Fate Would Have It | Chapter Three
Lines are beginning to blur between you and Anakin.
◂ chapter two ▸ chapter four
rating: mature | pairing: dilf!anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 5.2k | read on ao3
warnings: alcohol, age-gaps, body image insecurities (anakin), sexual fantasies/content, swearing, a little bit of mean anakin
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“Tell me everything! Is he everything you thought he’d be? Totally dreamy? All stoic and boss-like? Oh, what does he smell like? Expensive?” 
Your best friend has barely taken off her shoes before bombarding you with questions about your first day working for Anakin Skywalker. You give her a welcoming hug before taking her hand and leading her into the living room. “Come on, I’ve already opened a bottle of wine.” 
Two empty glasses stand next to a middle-shelf Pinot Gris on your coffee table. Sabine takes it upon herself to pour the wine and pulls the granny square blanket from the back of your couch over her lap. She looks like she’s settling in for a bedtime story. 
“Okay, I’m ready. Lay it on me.” 
You situate yourself on the opposite end of the couch and slip your legs under the blanket. You take a small sip of wine before attempting to answer any of Sabine’s questions. Your first day at Skywalker Enterprises went by in a blur. Meeting your boss was not at all how you imagined it would go. It was all so clumsy. Anakin seemed more like an embarrassed school boy than the confident CEO you were expecting. He looked like he saw a ghost when he saw you sitting behind your desk. And then, in the car on the way to his house, he addressed your butt. 
“Let me know if your butt gets too toasty,” he said. It was so incredibly adorable because you could tell he let a little bit of his guard down when he said it. Obviously, he didn’t mean to. Because no sensible boss should talk about his assistant’s butt. Especially not when you’ve only just met each other. You found it endearing. 
But then, after the initial awkwardness faded and you continued talking to each other throughout the day, there was a sense of familiarity about him. The structure of his sentences when he spoke reminded you of someone. You’re just not sure who. 
“He’s not really what I thought he’d be like.”
“How so?” Sabine asks. 
“I don’t know,” you shrug, unable to explain the stirring of feelings and emotions in your chest. “He’s… he was sort of awkward when we first met. Like, stuttering and fumbling over his words. Almost as if I made him nervous.” 
Sabine nods slowly with her eyes narrowed. “Go on…” 
“Well, that’s crazy, right? The fact that I could’ve made him nervous?” 
“Not necessarily. Look at you. You didn’t have a successful OnlyFans page for nothing.” 
“Yeah, but he’s in his forties,” you emphasize. You remind yourself of his age nearly every minute to remember how inappropriate it is to be attracted to your boss. Applying for the job was such a bad idea. What made you think you wouldn’t be attracted to him when you saw him in person? Your cheeks get hot as you think about him rounding the car to open your door once you got back to the office after dropping off his son’s pants at school. It was just a common courtesy, not a sign of interest. But damn, was it nice to be on the reciprocating end of something gentlemanly.
“And he’s a dad! I shouldn’t be making dads nervous,” you add. “I mean, I saw a picture of his wife at his house. She was stunning. Stunning, Sabine. High cheekbones, a nice straight nose, a gorgeous smile…” 
“Wait, he’s married?!” Sabine sets down her glass. 
“Widowed.” 
“Oh,” Sabine says sadly. Then her eyebrows perk up. “Oh.” 
“Don’t,” you hold up your finger. “Don’t give me that look. He’s my boss.” 
“But you like him,” Sabine sings. “And from what it sounds like, he likes you too.” 
You cannot let Sabine put the idea of Anakin Skywalker, engineering millionaire, having a measly little crush on you. Because it’s absolutely absurd. He’s him and you’re… you’re just a girl who was uploading videos of herself masturbating for money just last week. Not that there is anything wrong with sex work. It’s empowered you in so many ways, but it was time to find something a bit more steady and reliable. And less physically taxing, to be perfectly honest. 
“Sabine, be serious. I-” your phone pings with a distinct tone that makes you pause. 
New Message from Skyguy81 
“Oh, my God,” you say. 
“What?” Sabine asks. 
“It’s Sky,” you answer her while opening the message.
Sabine eagerly crawls on top of you to peer at your screen. “Sky as in Rich Guy Sky? Did you upload a new video or something? What did he say?”
“No,” you shake your head. “I haven’t uploaded anything since last Thursday. Get off of me so I can read his message.” 
Sabine retreats to her side of the couch as you begin reading to her. 
“I thought about you at work today. I thought about you more than I would like to admit. You have no idea what you do to me, Honey. No idea what I would do to you.” Your tongue feels like sandpaper and your heart is in the bottom of your throat. 
“Oh, shit!” Sabine exclaims. “You’ve got this boy whipped! Honestly, you should just keep making videos for him. He was your best tipper, anyway.” 
“He’s never… he’s never messaged me out of the blue before.” You chug down the last of your wine, thinking you may need some liquid courage for whatever conversation is about to unfold between you and Sky. 
“He wants you,” Sabine says simply. “Make it happen.” 
“I can’t just meet up with someone from OnlyFans. It’s an episode of Dateline waiting to happen.” 
Sabine rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so cynical.” 
“I’m not being cynical, I’m being logical,” you counter. You’d be foolish to risk your life by meeting up with Skyguy81. No matter how nice and genuine he seems over private messages. No matter how much money he has tipped you. There is no guarantee he’s not absolutely creepy and going to kidnap you.
Okay, so maybe you watch too much true crime. That’s why you have to balance it out with The Great British Bake Off. 
“I don’t know. I’m just saying,” Sabine finishes her wine, “you never know. He could be the love of your life.” 
You’re quiet as you contemplate the love of your life. Sabine is the romantic. You’re the realist. You have a hard time believing there’s one person in the world who you’re destined to be with. How do you explain Anakin losing his wife? Was she the love of his life? Is he not supposed to move on and potentially find happiness with someone else? None of it makes sense to you and it’s quite possibly because you’ve never been in love. 
And the image of the person who you might like the opportunity to love is entirely unavailable. 
.
.
.
It’s times like tonight when Anakin wishes he didn’t raise such inquisitive, curious children. Leia is simply chock-full of questions about her dad’s new assistant. When do they get to meet her? Soon. Is she old like Auntie Dorothy? No. Does she like vintage Disney movies? (Anything before 2010 is “vintage” to Leia). I don’t know. 
Luke, on the other hand, was very disappointed to learn that you were in the car while his dad dropped off a new pair of pants. “You made her wait in the car like a dog?” 
Anakin snorts. “I wouldn’t quite say like a dog, Luke. I was gone for less than five minutes.” 
“Did you at least roll down the window? So she could have fresh air?” Leia joins in on the comical idea of their dad leaving his assistant in his car like a pet. 
“That’s enough out of you two,” Anakin says through a grin. These 9 year olds, man. What is he going to do with them? 
Luke and Leia nod, going back to stabbing their dumplings with their chopsticks. 
“I have one last question.” Leia watches her dumpling precariously dangle on the edge of her chopstick. 
“What is that, princess?” Anakin asks.   
“Is she pretty?” 
Anakin’s pulse is going to burst. It’s a simple question- one that always seems to be on the tip of Leia’s tongue. She wants a woman figure in her life. Soon, she’ll be at the age that is easier to navigate with a maternal presence. Anakin is really not equipped to talk her through menstrual cycles. 
But it’s the nature of who his new assistant is that makes him feel so exposed. He can’t very well tell his children you’re the most beautiful woman he’s seen since his wife. And he definitely can’t tell them that you’ve been in his life not since this morning, but since three years ago when he downloaded OnlyFans. 
Anakin cleans the corners of his mouth with his napkin while he formulates an appropriate response. He’s kept his answers short and simple because if he thinks about you for too long, your figure seeps into his vision, your voice burns in his ears, and he’s unable to focus. 
He feels like such a sleaze for getting hard just by thinking about you. You are so much more than a sexual object. And trust him, he can’t wait to learn about all that makes you you. But morals be damned. He wants you desperately. 
“Yes, Leia. She’s quite pretty,” Anakin finally answers. 
Leia can’t help but dance excitedly in her seat. “I can’t wait to meet her.” 
“I could’ve met her today,” Luke mumbles. “If Dad hadn’t locked her up in the car.” 
Anakin is laughing now. “I have a feeling you are going to be bringing this up for a while.” 
After dinner, the kids clear the dishes and load what they can into the dishwasher. Meanwhile, Anakin does something either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. 
.
.
.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. 
I thought about you at work today. I thought about you more than I would like to admit. You have no idea what you do to me, Honey. No idea what I would do to you.
Now being 10 pm, it’s been 3 hours since Anakin— or rather, Skyguy81— sent you that message. 
And you still haven’t replied. But you read it. 
And the fact that you’ve read the message but decided not to reply makes Anakin feel so incredibly foolish. What was he thinking? What was he expecting from you? More meaningless flirting? 
Except now it’s not meaningless for him. He’s not sure if it was ever meaningless. But now that he knows who the woman behind HoneySuckle is, it’s completely different. You have a name— which he had to look up in employment records because he’s convinced he actually blacked out when you introduced yourself. You have passions and interests, favorite snacks, and a go-to karaoke song. He wants to know it all. 
And even though he’s going to see you tomorrow, he couldn’t resist the urge to message you on OnlyFans. But since you’ve opted not to reply to him, he’s now wallowing like a teenage boy. 
Ridiculous. He’s better than this, goddamnit! 
Finally deciding to stop staring at his phone, Anakin strips down to take a shower. It’s hard for him not to feel disappointed when he looks at himself in the mirror. Arguably, he’s still in great shape. He lifts weights at the gym at least twice a week, sometimes three if he has the time. He doesn’t have a beer belly, which he considers an accomplishment at his age. But he does have some extra fat around his love handles. He has sun spots on his shoulders from the countless pool days when the twins were younger. And then there are the undeniable lines around his eyes, which are incredibly prominent when he smiles. 
Anakin has never felt particularly insecure about his image before. He’s accepted that his body is not the same 20 year old body it once was. But there’s a new nagging insecurity in the back of his mind.
Is it good enough for you? 
Anakin turns on the water in the shower, needing to wash away all delusions of you and him ever getting together. As soon as he steps one foot on the tile, his phone buzzes. He grabs his phone off of the counter and his heart rate immediately ticks up. 
Hi Sky, I’m sorry for the delay. I had a friend over. Here’s a special little something for you ;) 
Attached is a picture of you on your bed, sitting on your heels with the thin straps of your panties pulled over your hips. You’re lifting an oversized t-shirt above your breasts, which also expertly hides your face. Right. Because you don’t know that he knows who you are. 
Still, the picture was worth the wait. It’s almost embarrassing the way his cock is already standing upright, the tip pressing against his lower abdomen. He focuses on your hard nipples, picturing himself enclosing his mouth around one of your mounds. He’s rolling his tongue over your bud while massaging your other breast. Your hands are in his hair and you’re anything but silent. You’re moaning his name, begging for more, whining for him to put his cock inside of you. 
Anakin is too preoccupied to even reply to you. He gets himself under the steady stream of hot water and grabs the base of his length. Now he’s picturing you on top of him, tits bouncing in his face while you fuck yourself on his cock. 
“Mmm, yes! Anakin, please. Feels so good.” 
Your hands are pressed against his strong chest for support. He loves you like this— in control but still pathetically needy for his dick. “How much do you love it?” he asks. “Tell me how much you love this cock inside of you.” 
You throw your head back when he slaps both of your ass cheeks. He grabs onto your flesh firmly and your cunt clamps around him while you proclaim it to be the best feeling in the world. “I love it so much, Ani. Nobody's cock feels as good as yours.” 
“Damn right,” Anakin grits. He holds your chin with a strong hand, forcing you to look at him. “This pussy is mine. You understand that?” 
“Yes, sir,” you moan as Anakin bucks his hips up, hitting deep inside of you. “Only yours.” 
“Yes, sir,” huh? That’s a new kink unlocked. Anakin presses a palm on the shower wall to steady himself as he cums. It’s anything from pretty. It happens suddenly and quickly, thanks to the vivid images he was creating in his mind. He bites down on his bottom lip to keep from moaning too loudly. But your name is rolling off of his tongue effortlessly. As if it’s always been in the recesses of his mind, just waiting to be said intimately and passionately. 
He tries to list off the hundreds of reasons why he should never utter your name in a less than professional manner while shampooing his hair. 
You’re his assistant.
You’re significantly younger than him. 
The power imbalance (see 1 and 2). 
That’s all he can come up with for now and it’s enough. Nothing good will come out of pining for you and fantasizing about you. It still doesn’t stop him from messaging you back after he gets out of the shower and settles in bed. 
Now I feel guilty for not responding sooner. Thank you for the spectacular photo. It is unfortunate that I had to take matters into my own, ahem, hands. I would have much preferred to have your help. 
You flatter me, Sky. Do I really get you that worked up? 
Impossibly so. 
When you said you thought about me at work… What exactly did you mean? 
To be perfectly blunt, you were bent over a desk with your skirt pushed over your ass. I was fucking you well and hard, with my name being the only thing falling from your pretty lips. 
Anakin lets out a heavy sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. Why does he keep putting himself in situations that result in an erection? He just needs to have a good fuck. Get it out of his system. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. But under no circumstances will it be with you. 
I think I’d like that very much. 
Goddamnit. Anakin needs to stop while he’s ahead. While he’s not succumbing to jerking off for a second time tonight. This was a disastrous idea. Because now when he sees you at work tomorrow, he’s going to think about how you would like for him to fuck you over your desk. Except you don’t actually know that it’s him who wants to fuck you over your desk. 
Maybe in another life. 
Anakin leaves it at that. He puts his phone on do not disturb and attempts to get some reading in before going to sleep. He also prays for G-rated dreams. 
.
.
.
The morning fog of late November in Northern California is still hanging in the air when you get to work at 8 am. Anakin won’t be in until he drops off Luke and Leia which means he should arrive around the same time he did yesterday. It gives you an hour to go through voicemails, reply to emails, and brew a pot of coffee in the breakroom. 
Ben Kenobi arrives shortly after you, sharply dressed in dark blue slacks, caramel leather Oxfords, and a white collared shirt with small polka dots that match the color of his pants. 
“Good morning, Mr. Kenobi,” you greet.  
“Please, call me Ben. No need for formalities around here,” Ben replies. “You’ll soon see we operate very much like a family. There will be shouting and likely some name calling, but it’s all in the name of love for engineering and innovation.” 
“Got it,” you nod. “It’s just that Dorothy always called Mr. Skywalker by, well, Mr. Skywalker. And yesterday he didn’t tell me to call him otherwise.” 
Ben strokes his nicely groomed beard. “Interesting. Well, I suppose you can continue to address him as such until he tells you to call him Anakin. Which I’m sure he’ll do this morning when he gets in. Have you brewed the coffee yet?” 
“Not yet.” you stand. “I wanted to check messages first, but coffee is next on the list.” 
“Excellent.” Ben follows you into the breakroom. “How are you enjoying your time here?” 
“Well, it’s only been a day,” you remind him with a light lilt to your voice. “But it’s been good! Everyone I’ve met is super friendly.” 
Ben leans back against the counter, crossing his ankles and arms over his chest. “And you and Anakin? You two getting along? He’s not giving you too much trouble, is he?” 
You nearly spill the coffee grounds as you bring the spoon up from the container to the machine. “No!” you say a little too loudly. “I mean, no. He’s been very nice. Quiet, but nice.” 
“Anakin? Quiet?” Ben almost laughs. “I’ve never heard that word used to describe Anakin before.” 
“Oh.” you continue scooping grounds into the machine. How many spoonfuls are you supposed to put in? You’ve lost count. Maybe two more for good measure. You’d rather make the coffee too strong than too weak. Nothing is worse than weak coffee. “Maybe I caught him on an off day. He did seem a little weird when he brought me to his house. And then I sort of told him off in the car…” 
This gets Ben away from the counter and walking over to you. “You did what?” 
“Well, I mean, I didn’t tell him off per se. I just asked him to give me a chance. It seemed like he’d already made a decision about me and we’d only known each other for a couple of hours.” 
“Good for you,” Ben replies. “Anakin is headstrong but he can be reasoned with. If the reason is worth being reasoned over.” 
“Am I?” you ask. “Worth being reasoned over?” 
Ben appears to give you a once over and then nods once. “Yes, I’d say so.” 
“Thanks…” you say with uncertainty. Ben takes himself and his briefcase to his office, which is the next door over from Anakin’s. He leaves you alone in the breakroom with a dozen questions. Was Ben assessing your appearance? Surely not for himself. He’s insanely in love with his wife— the mayor. Then who for? Anakin? No. No way. 
The coffee has begun to brew— the nutty notes of Philz Philtered Soul bringing you back to your college days. There’s one in walking distance from campus and you and Sabine spent every finals week there chugging back Mint Mojitos and Mocha Tesoras. 
Those days were not that long ago for you. For Anakin, on the other hand… 
You shake your head, effectively shaking thoughts of Anakin taking any interest in you away. And why would he have an interest in you? He’s bound to have a list of more age-appropriate women he can bring home to his children. 
Stop thinking about it. 
But it’s so damn hard not to. A forbidden office romance with your boss who’s 20 years your senior? Yeah, it’s cliché and sort of sounds like the plot to a porno but it’s sort of fun, too. As long as you keep yourself in check, what’s the harm in pretending like he’s secretly in love with you and wants to take you home? 
.
.
.
When Anakin gets into the office, he doesn’t even greet you before saying, “Call Rose. Tell her to come as soon as possible.” 
So much for him being nice yesterday. Now he won’t even look at you. “Who’s Rose? What- what is the appointment for?” 
“You don’t need to know what it’s for,” Anakin snaps. “Just find Rose in your little phone book, call her, and tell her I need to see her immediately.” 
“Y-yes, sir,” you say while thumbing through the contacts Dorothy left behind for you. Without another word, Anakin goes into his office and slams the door. 
What the hell was that about? That was once again another awkward morning of Anakin slamming his office door after talking to you. You thought you left work on good terms yesterday. What changed? 
.
.
.
Rose Montgomery arrives 47 minutes after you call her. You hear her Louboutins clicking on the floor before you see her. Your eyes trail up from her long legs to her slim waist and perky boobs until you reach her face. Good Lord. She is strikingly beautiful. Her fiery red hair falls in loose curls over her shoulders. As she walks closer to your desk, you are drawn to her perfectly round green eyes. She’s like the real-deal Jolene from Dolly Parton’s hit song. Seriously, did she grow up being called Jolene solely based on her looks? 
“Aw, look at you,” Rose smiles down at you. “You must be the new Dorothy.” 
“I suppose I am.” 
“Aren’t you just the most adorable thing.” 
Uh… What the hell are you supposed to say to that? “I’ll let Mr. Skywalker know you’re here.” 
“No need,” Rose informs. “I’ll let myself in.” She begins to walk away with an extra sway to her hips. You want to hate her but she’s got such an air of confidence that you actually want to be a little more like her. 
“Oh, um, actually I’m not sure about that,” you come out from behind your desk. “He seems to be in a mood so I don’t want you barging in his office to make it worse.” 
Rose turns on her heels and purses her lips. “Actually, sweetheart, I’ve known him longer than you and this isn’t my first ‘appointment’ with him. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to go make his mood a little better.” 
Okay. Now you hate her. With that, Rose leaves you standing outside of Anakin’s office with a dumbfounded look on your face. Is that… is she… a booty call? 
All of the insinuations are there; from the air quotes around “appointment” to the way she said she’ll make Anakin’s mood better. Coupled with her outstanding looks, you’ve decided that Rose Montgomery is a friend with benefits of Anakin Skywalker. You trudge back to your desk and do your absolute best not to think about what’s happening behind your boss’s door. 
.
.
.
At the sound of his door opening, Anakin quickly closes his computer tab and turns off the monitor. He pulls his headphones off of his head and puts them in the drawer. 
Rose is none the wiser as she drops her Birkin bag on the table beside the chaise. “Ugh, who is that child you have sitting behind Dorothy’s desk?” 
“My new assistant,” Anakin answers through a dry throat. Rose sits herself on his lap and drapes her arms over his shoulders. She begins playing with the ends of his curls, which normally, he would enjoy. But he really just wants to get this over with. He draws down the zipper of her black dress while she kisses along his jaw. 
“She seems incompetent,” Rose says between kisses. “What is she? Like, 15?” 
Anakin twirls Rose’s hair around his fist and yanks her face away from his. This makes her gasp with pleasure, and despite his annoyance, he loves the reaction he gets from her. “I didn’t fucking ask you here for your opinion on her. Do not talk about her again. Do you understand?” 
“Yes,” Rose breathes. “Where do you want me?” 
“On your knees.”
.
.
.
When Rose leaves Anakin’s office, you can absolutely tell she and Anakin had sex. Did she even bother looking in the mirror or her phone camera before coming out? She avoids looking in your direction at all costs and knowing how awkward those walks of shame can be after a one night stand, you decide not to watch her walk to the elevator. 
You busy yourself in a filing cabinet until you hear Anakin’s door open again. You tell yourself not to look up because if you look up at him you might actually burst into tears. Which makes absolutely no sense to you but you feel that stinging in your nose and you’re trying to think of the time you got Panini because at least those were happy tears. 
Anakin says your name. 
Damnit. Get it together. You take a deep breath and plaster on a smile. At least he doesn’t look like he just had sex. His hair is combed back the same way it was when he walked in and his clothes are wrinkle free. “Yes, Mr. Skywalker?” 
“Would you like to go get lunch?” 
It’s only 10:45 but of course, he’d be hungry after having sex. “Oh, sure. What can I get you?” 
“I meant me.” 
You furrow your brows together. “Sorry?” 
“I mean us. You and me, together. Fuck,”  Anakin mumbles that last part. It’s like he loses the part of his brain that forms proper sentences when he looks at you. Think back to the car, Anakin. Things weren’t so bad in the car. Wait, yes they were. He told you to tell him if your butt got too toasty. 
You can’t help but smile as you start to see the Anakin who let his guard down in the car. He’s nothing like the Anakin who walked into the office this morning. “You want me to get lunch with you?” 
“Yes. If you would like.” 
You grab your thrifted black leather bag and your coat off of the back of your chair. “I think I’d like that very much.” 
I think I’d like that very much. 
That is the second time you’ve said that to Anakin. 
On the drive to the farm to table restaurant he suggested, he thinks about telling you the truth. That he’s Skyguy81 and you’ve been messaging each other for three years. Oh, and that he’s seen you naked. 
He weighs all of the pros and cons and all of the ways the situation could play out if he tells you. He decides the only way it’s going to end is with you quitting and never wanting to see him again. Telling you who he is is out of the question. 
Your face is buried in the menu, effectively blocking you from looking at Anakin. Your nerves are irritably on fire as you sit knee to knee with your boss. You go out to lunch with someone to talk. To get to know them. But you have no idea what to talk about with him. Either he’s super blunt or incredibly awkward and you don’t know what to make of it. 
Could Sabine be right? Does he have a crush on you? Do men in their forties even get crushes? 
“You are awfully quiet behind there,” Anakin finally says. “Are you hiding from me?” 
You slam your menu down nervously. “What? Oh, no. Just… looking at all of the options.” 
“I’m kidding,” Anakin chuckles. “If it helps, Leia likes the poke rice bowl. Luke likes the flatbread with artichokes. And I normally just get a burger.” 
“Wow, a 9 year old who likes poke? You’ve got some interesting kids.” 
“You have no idea,” Anakin replies bashfully. He really calms down when he talks about his kids. Maybe that’s your key to him. Keep him talking about his kids. 
“Well, I think I’ll try Leia’s favorite. Do your kids enjoy trying different types of food?” 
Anakin gives you a noncommittal shrug. “I suppose so. I didn’t raise them to be picky eaters. They eat what I eat. We had dumplings last night. They’re shit at using chopsticks but it makes for an entertaining meal.” 
You laugh along with him, feeling yourself relax the more you see Anakin relax. “I love dumplings!” 
“Yeah? We’ll have to have you over some time for dumplings, then.” Anakin doesn’t even realize what he’s saying until it’s hanging between you, awaiting your response. 
“That would be nice,” you admit. “I can’t wait to meet them. Of course, you know… if they even want to meet me.” 
“Are you kidding? Luke almost threw a fit over me leaving you in the car yesterday. And Leia… well, Leia gets excited about any new woman in my life. I mean, not that you’re my new woman, just you know, in terms of you being Dorothy’s replacement and-” 
You place your hand over Anakin’s without a second thought. And it’s more than just skin on skin. It’s electric. You resist the urge to pull away because the overwhelming feeling almost keeps you from saying: “It’s fine, Mr. Skywalker. I get what you mean.” 
Anakin is looking down at your hands and you wonder if he feels it too. Or if it’s entirely inappropriate to put your hand on his and he’s going to go back to being standoffish. You remove your hand from his and sit on it. 
“You don’t have to call me that,” Anakin murmurs. “Mr. Skywalker. I would much prefer you to call me Anakin.” 
You look up at him timidly. He’s being sincere. One corner of his lips are quirked up to form a sideways smile and your heart— your stupid, stupid heart adores it.  Perhaps there is harm in pretending like your boss is in love with you. Perhaps keeping yourself in check is going to be a lot more difficult than you thought. Because now that you’re on a first name basis with Anakin Skywalker, you fear simply being his assistant is not going to be enough.
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◂ series masterlist ▸ chapter four (coming soon)
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luvjii · 4 months
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zb1 mtl: sexy or cute partner ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
-> this has been in drafts since july :|
REQUESTS OPEN <3
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sexy
ricky + taerae + jiwoong
RICKY (80% sexy, 20% cute) ~ i can so vividly picture ricky with a bad bitch … like just picture him, a baddie, next to another baddie. he probably likes someone with a luxurious look, sleek hair and winged eyeliner. probably attracted to someone with flashy accessories, pretty earrings and necklaces. someone who wears low cut shirts and shows off their shoulders. pretty collarbones too. he prefers someone who sticks to a sensible style, classy black & white clothes and maybe some gold jewellery. just imagine it, him in his fancy shirts and you in an elegant dress. as for personality, he strikes me as the type who likes a bit of push and pull, so a sultry person who knows how to flirt and play along with him. someone with a hypnotic, husky voice. basically someone who can put him in a trance 😵‍💫
TAERAE (70% sexy, 30% cute) ~ in my opinion, i think taerae needs someone dominant and intense to lead him, have you seen the way he blushed and got all giddy when that older woman complimented his singing ??!!! someone who can make him feel dizzy and wanted. i don’t think he’d mind getting dragged along in a relationship. by that i mean, he’d like someone alluring to take initiative. playing the obedient role is more than okay for him. i’m picturing a visual like irene from red velvet, a classy natural look. someone with a stern side. who dresses maturely, like low-key girlboss vibes. a hardworking person who exudes confidence and charisma. someone with high desirability, he’ll feel proud knowing your sexy ass chose HIM out of everyone o(`ω´ )o
JIWOONG (65% sexy, 35% cute) ~ hmmmm this one was tough. he really likes to dote on cute people, and he totally has the domineering physicality. but i think jiwoong would want someone mature, someone on his level. in terms of age, i don’t think he’d mind someone older or younger. but in terms of maturity, he’s want someone at the same stage in life as him. someone who doesn’t play games, who’s level-headed and responsible. someone who can comfortably dress sexily, show some skin and have fun. i don’t mean grossly provocative, just seductive & confident in their own skin, who may have a raunchy side to them. just someone he can take care of and gush over but also someone who excites him (。•̀ᴗ-)
zhang hao + hanbin
ZHANG HAO (55% sexy, 45% cute) ~ he wouldn’t mind either, but someone who can make him go wow under his breath. take his breath away, literally! hao would like someone who can do both, someone who can make him gush with cuteness but who can also make his cheeks redden and ears burn. a person who can flip the switch and take on both roles of leader and follower. maybe someone with a trendy style, who can pull off both skirts and pants. someone who’s a little less extraverted than him, for him to adore secretly behind closed doors, but also someone cool-headed and stunning. like taerae, he’d feel lucky knowing your breathtaking self is in love with him. a good balance of adorable and cunning. a person who’s not afraid to kiss first, or touch first ⁄(⁄ ⁄ ⁄ω⁄ ⁄ ⁄)⁄
HANBIN (55% cute, 45% sexy) ~ hanbin seems more domineering than he lets on, ofc he’s very cute & lovely but honestly, i think off camera he becomes so much more stern and protective. again, like hao he doesn’t truly mind. but someone who’s a little more cute & submissive would definitely be his type. the kind of person he can take care of, feed, nurse back to health when sick. someone he can give all his kindness to. maybe a person who daydreams, someone ditzy & lighthearted who doesn’t take life too seriously. i don’t wanna use the word bimbo because i think he genuinely values intelligence but … someone scatterbrained and giddy would be so endearing to him. overall a cutesy person. maybe they have a daring, bratty side and tries to get their own way. but in the end gives up and let’s him take charge, because he is the leader at the end of the day 😚
matthew + gyuvin
MATTHEW (65% cute, 35% sexy) ~ he’d love someone he can dote on. a cute person obsessed with all things cute. someone with a sanrio plush collection, or those cute sonny angels. someone dressed in pink, who puts on pretty blush and has a wardrobe full of frilly skirts & dresses. matthew would want someone he can coddle, and i think he low-key would prefer to be the leader in the relationship. he likes to feel manly, so someone who can cling to him and boost his ego would be perfect. a person who flatters him, who boasts to their friends about how sexy their boyfie is with his big strong muscles 💪 ٩(˃̶͈̀௰˂̶͈́)و we all know he’s got a flirty, daring side so someone who blushes easily and turns all cute and red +50 POINTS! matthew simply wants to be that typical reliable boyfriend, so someone who relies on his help would be much appreciated !
GYUVIN (80% cute, 20% sexy) ~ this one feels a bit obvious… he is undeniably the type to swoon when he sees something (or someone) cute. i think the term is cuteness aggression? the same thing he does to yujin. pinching cheeks, squishing face, baby voice, forehead kisses, sneak attack back hugs. he’d like someone girly and feminine, almost baby like qualities? not a literal baby, ew, but someone who gets cute & pouty when teased, which he would do a lot. a person who looks up to him, maybe even slightly obsessed with him (in a healthyish way of course). like someone who always has him in mind, texts him “hey this reminded me of u! :)” or calls him for hours when they’re bored, getting sooo sulky. wouldn’t mind someone emotional, he’d feel good getting to hold you in his arms, rubbing your back and reminding you everything will be okay silly (ᵔ◡ᵔ) just a pure, innocent type of relationship. probably buys matching promise rings tbh, cute cute cute !
cute
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bethanydelleman · 5 months
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Hello!
I rewatched Pride and Prejudice and it's surprising how my thoughts on it changed over the years 😃
When I was a teenager, Elizabeth Bennet was the plucky heroine that I wanted to be (lol) , now I'm older with a mortgage and responsibilities/bills, I'm like what was her plan in life?
Because she wasn't really educated per se (im thinking about how she answered lady Catherine about what she has to recommend her re:drawing, playing the piano etc) so I guess a 'career'(no matter how little it would be available at that time) was out of the question, but accepting marraige to the (admittedly obsequious) Mr Collins was also out of the question as well as Mr Darcys first proposal (which I get why sge turned it down!) ...I guess I'm asking what Elizabeth's plan for her future.
I've heard this from a lot of people upon re-read, "Why isn't Elizabeth more worried about her future?" I think there are a few things to note.
Early 1800s or not, Elizabeth is 20 years old when the novel begins (the average age of first marriage for women was 23). 27 year old Charlotte is in more of a future panic, but Elizabeth is still young. She has done practical thing like learn to play piano, but like most young people, she's probably just hoping for the best. And it's not like there is much she can actually do, Elizabeth is putting herself out there, she's dancing, she's playing piano, but otherwise she can just hurry up and wait. Her mother's marriage schemes are seen as vulgar and mostly backfire, and we would hardly want Elizabeth to act like Caroline. We read across Austen's novel's that women are largely stationary and it is the men who move in and out of their lives.
Also, I think a big part of Austen's point is that women are in a position where they feel the need to accept any and every proposal, because as Mr. Collins says, they may never receive another, but that this leads to misery (just look at the older couples and how many of them are unhappy!). While somewhat foolish from a financial perspective, Elizabeth is thinking about her long term happiness. She has watched her father turn bitter in an unequal relationship, she does not want that for herself. Elizabeth is choosing possible spinsterhood over being married to a person she knows she could not respect. Marrying for love, or at least on a basis of respect, is a big theme in Austen's novels. Let me add this quote from Mansfield Park to illustrate this point:
“I should have thought,” said Fanny, after a pause of recollection and exertion, “that every woman must have felt the possibility of a man’s not being approved, not being loved by some one of her sex at least, let him be ever so generally agreeable. Let him have all the perfections in the world, I think it ought not to be set down as certain that a man must be acceptable to every woman he may happen to like himself.... And, and—we think very differently of the nature of women, if they can imagine a woman so very soon capable of returning an affection as this seems to imply.”
So yes, Elizabeth Bennet isn't being financially prudent but she is being sensible in preserving her happiness. And for realism, we know Austen made this decision herself! She turned down an eligible offer.
Next, Mrs. Bennet is somewhat exaggerating: they are very unlikely to starve or be destitute. While it is never explicitly stated, Mr. Gardiner seems to be doing very well, and would probably very happily take at least Jane and Elizabeth if Mr. Bennet died. Mr. Philips is also doing well for a country attorney, he could take in his sister-in-law and nieces. It is going to suck, the Bennets should have planned better, but it's not the end of the world. We also do not know Mr. Bennet's age, but he may well only be in his late forties. He's no Mr. Woodhouse who may die tomorrow in a stiff breeze.
So what is Elizabeth's plan? She doesn't have one, she's 20. She's hoping life will throw her a man with a decent income that she doesn't hate. It works out in the end, but I don't think she would live to regret either turned down proposal if she had never met Darcy again.
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roses-for-rosalyn · 10 months
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Are You Sure Miss?
Abby x reader
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minirs dni (I will hunt u down)
This is strongly inspired by this audio by Jupiter X. Please please go visit her reddit and twitter she's literally so amazing. I really enjoyed writing this, it's probably my favorite thing I've ever written.
summary: the farmers daughter becomes infatuated with the farm hand
word count: 5.3k
content warnings: southern fem! reader, southern abby, mentions of masterbation, kissing, neck kissing, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), use of strap on, mirror sex, teasing, mild orgasm denial, Abby moaning hehe, no use of y/n, Abby being big and strong
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The farmer's daughter in love with the farm hand. What a fucking cliché. Any sensible woman would have the dignity to at least pretend they weren’t infatuated, to allow themselves a denial of their feelings. You’re honestly not sure how much you valued your dignity at this point. 
Your father had hired her about two months ago. You usually walked the grounds every day to pass the time, you enjoyed the fresh air and it gave you an excuse to get out of the house. your father thought you too fragile to do anything besides shopping, walking or occasionally traveling. As a result your life was painfully mundane…until she showed up. The first day she was on the job you were out on one of your usual, painfully boring walks when you noticed someone new was working with the other farm hands. She stood out as she was working a job that was mostly reserved for men. She was stacking hay bales, tossing them with ease. you observed the way her strong arms strained against the fabric of her shirt and couldn't help but imagine how easily she could sweep you off your feet. You were just close enough where you could discern the sweat on her brow, her blonde hair sticking to her forehead. Her chest heaved with effort as she threw the bales of hay as if they were made of feathers. You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t realized you stopped in your tracks to watch her. You continued walking and swore to yourself you would keep a distance. No reason to make a fuss and cause your father to lose a perfectly good farmhand. Maybe even the best farmhand he’d ever had, she was stronger than any man he'd ever hired. 
Eventually you learned her name: Abby. Even learning something that small made everything worse. 
Now you had a name to whimper as you ground into your pillow at night, imagining it was one of her strong thighs. Every day since you’d dreamt of her using her strength to fuck you senseless, you imagined how she’d wrap her muscular arms around your thighs to hold you in place while she assaulted your clit with her tongue. You were getting desperate, every time you went on one of your walks your panties grew soaked just watching her work. 
One day you worked up the courage to ask her a favor.  
“Abby,” you called out to her “do ya mind helping me with something?” You asked, purposefully making your southern accent extra thick and sweet. The words came out smooth as honey causing Abby to turn her head in surprise. She had never heard you speak before and she decided right then and there she could listen to you talk for hours. You usually used that voice to get men to help you with things, but you had a feeling she could help you more than any man could. 
She nodded and jogged over “What do ya need miss?” God her voice was perfect,  a faint southern lilt dripping off each word as she spoke. 
This was the first time you had gotten close to her, you realized how far she towered over you. She was intimidating in every sense of the word. You could make out the freckles that dotted across her nose and spilled onto her cheeks. Her blue eyes were mesmerizing against her fair skin. The sun filtered through her blonde hair creating a soft glowing halo around her head. 
“You alright miss?” You hadn’t even realized you were staring, she was looking at you with a mild concern, her head slightly tilted. 
“Yes ’m fine,” You took a breath and looked down to escape her intense gaze. “The heat must be gettin’ to me, that’s all.” You let out a soft laugh and summoned the strength to look back up at her. “Can you just help me get these groceries inside? Normally I’d do it myself, but it’s just so darn hot today n’ some of these bags are pretty heavy.” You definitely could have carried them in yourself, but where’s the fun in that? You just wanted an excuse to get close to her, that's all. 
“Whatever ya need miss.”  She grinned and walked past you to grab the groceries out of the truck bed. You couldn’t help but ogle for a moment at her strength. Her muscles flexed as she added bag after bag to her arms. She grabbed every single one of the bags in one trip, you only had to retrieve your purse from the passenger’s side of the truck. You ran ahead to open the door for her, since she had her hands full.
“Thanks.” She turned her head, smiled and nodded at you in appreciation. You smiled back, looking up at Abby with wide doe eyes that practically made her melt. You followed her inside and watched her gently place the groceries on the table as you put your purse down next to them. 
Abby turned to you and asked “Need anything else from me miss?” She was secretly hoping you had a laundry list of chores for her just so she could spend some more time with you. You had her wrapped around your finger in mere moments with your soft frilly dresses and your sickly sweet voice. 
“Not at the moment, but you best bet I’ll be asking you for help more often after this.” You smiled sheepishly at her, attempting to play into your role as the helpless farmer’s daughter. You had a feeling it was working with the way she was looking down at you like you were edible. If Abby had her way at that moment she would have whisked you away upstairs and devoured you until your sweet moans deafened her.  
“I’m here for whatever you need, miss.” She smirked and nodded before turning away and going back to work. 
You thought about that small interaction the rest of the day, it didn’t help that you now knew what she sounded like. She took over your every waking thought. You thought you would be able to control yourself better the less you knew about her because now every new detail you learned made you grow more and more desperate for her. 
Abby wasn’t much better. She would daydream about you while she was working which almost caused multiple accidents. She was dropping things, forgetting her strength and getting distracted when she needed to focus. She couldn’t get you out of her mind, she went home that night and made herself come on her own fingers, imagining your sweet little moans escaping your lips as she fucked you. She could never give into her desires though, you were too perfect, too fragile. She wasn’t good enough for you. No one was. 
She was infatuated with you from her first day on the farm. You slowly strolled by in a pale blue dress covered in pretty little ruffles and all Abby wanted to do was rip it off. She watched from afar as your skin glowed in the sunlight making you look ethereal. She couldn't help but ask the other farmhands your name, subtly trying to get them to divulge anything they knew about you. They didn't know much, you stayed far away from the farmhands for the most part. You would only watch them from afar on your walks... until Abby. She vowed to herself a while ago she would keep a distance in order to keep her job. It was easier when she could pretend you were some mythical being, too beautiful to be real. The day you asked for help was the day her restraint started to weaken as she realized you were as real as you were lovely. 
You would watch her as you usually did on your walks except now she would look back at you, flashing a sweet smile. You began passing the days desperately trying to come up with another reason to ask her for help to no avail. 
About a week passed since you last asked Abby for help when a rather large delivery came in from the tailor. You had quite a few dresses made and fitted and there were stacks of boxes that needed to be brought up to your bedroom. You silently cheered when you realized your father’s truck was missing from the driveway. When he left he would usually be gone all day, which would work out in your favor. You didn't have a particular plan in mind, but you knew it would be easier without the presence of your father looming over you. You walk out from the porch towards the field where Abby was working. She was feeding the chickens, dumping feed all around. She was covered in a sheen of sweat, her shirt softly clung to her abdominal muscles, sticky from sweat.
 “Abby!” You call out, “I need ya for a minute.” She quickly finishes feeding the birds and eagerly heads over to you. At this point you took priority over her job, although she would never admit that. 
Once she reaches you she nods and says “Lead the way, ma’am.” You smile and turn around to lead her back to the porch towards the stacks of boxes. 
“Just need help getting these up to my bedroom. They’re a bit heavy and I can’t carry them up the stairs myself.” You gesture to the pile of boxes on the porch
“You want me to come inside? In-into your bedroom? You sure? I’m all sweaty and dirty from workin' and I wouldn’t want to get your room dirty or nothing.” She sounds a little panicky and you can’t quite pin down why.
“I don’t mind.” You say quietly. 
“Al-alright,” She takes a breath “if you insist.” Abby looks down at the stacks of boxes, assessing how many trips up the stairs this was going to take. She grabs a stack of boxes and you open the screen door for her to let her inside. You walk ahead of her leading her up the stairs and into your bedroom. 
You hadn’t really had anyone in your bedroom before. It was a simple room with a queen bed against the wall, a soft white quilt adorning it. There was an old mirror in the corner of the room by the bed, the other side of the bed had a nightstand with a few candles and a stack of books. You had never felt insecure about your room until this very moment. 
“You’ve got a very nice room, miss.” Abby looks around trying to absorb any details she can. She has to suppress the thoughts that invade her mind when she sees the mirror by the bed. 
“Thank you.” You grin, genuinely appreciating the compliment.
There’s a slightly awkward pause before Abby blurts out “You read a lot?” She gestures to the stack of books by your bed.
“Yeah, I’m not allowed to do much so reading is one of my favorite ways to pass the time. Do you like readin’?” 
“I mean most of the time I’m workin’ or sleepin’, but when I was younger my mother used to read to me. I guess I like listenin’ to other people read more than actually reading myself. Haven’t been read to in years though, I guess that’s somethin’ just for little kids.” She’s clearly a nervous talker and you can’t help but adore her for it. 
“Doesn’t have to be, you just gotta find someone who’s willing to read to ya.” You smile at her before realizing the implication your sentence had. Hopefully she didn’t read too far into it.
“Yeah maybe one day.” She smiles at you and then sets the boxes down as you sit on the edge of the bed. You sigh in relief, thankful you didn’t scare her with your nervous rambling. She turns to head back downstairs to grab the rest of the boxes. As soon as she leaves the room you rush over to the mirror. You adjust your dress and check your hair, suddenly very aware of your appearance. You envied Abby in the sense that she looked beautiful even covered with dirt and sweat. You felt like you had to put in a mighty amount of effort just to appeal to other people. Once you hear Abby’s footsteps echoing up the stairs you rush back to the edge of the bed. She walks in and gently puts the last stack of boxes down. 
“Need anything else miss?” You look around trying to think of something, anything to keep her here. You’re about to give up and dismiss her when a devilish idea pops into your head. 
You smile sweetly at her as you say, “Actually, I need some help trying these on." You nod towards the boxes, "I can’t quite reach the zippers, plus I could use your opinion on some of ‘em.” It was quite the risky ask, but you were growing desperate. A slight ache had grown between your legs as you watched her carry the boxes up the stairs. Her tank top wasn't helping anything either, it perfectly displayed her incredible biceps and clung to her sweaty body, exposing the outline of her muscles.
Abby is visibly taken aback “I’m not sure I’m the best person you could ask for this miss. I’m not exactly a very fashionable person, and I-I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed in your room in the first place. I don’t want to make your father angry or nothing.” She laughs a little as she rubs the back of her neck. If she was being honest with herself Abby wasn’t sure if she’d be able to handle watching you take off your dress without giving into her desire, and she was beginning to panic. She couldn’t say no to you either.
“Don’t be silly,” You giggle a little at how flustered she is. “He isn’t even home, and all you have to do is tell me what looks good and what doesn’t. It’s easy.” You look over Abby’s shoulder and realize the door is wide open. “Just go close the door for me so no one walks in on us.” You unzip your dress and slowly remove the straps from your shoulders right as Abby turns around to close the door. Your dress was on the floor by the time she turned back to face you. 
Abby turns away immediately when she realizes your dress is gone. You can’t help but giggle when you realize how much you startled her. 
“Why are you turnin’ away?” you ask, half teasing her.
“Well..uh..uhm.” She takes a breath trying to compose herself. “You-you’re indecent miss, I can’t exactly look at you right now.” Abby meant it more in the sense she can’t look at you without giving into the desire to throw you onto the bed and rip off your pretty undergarments. She also meant it in a sort of proper way because if anyone deserved that kind of respect it was you. 
“You can look.” you reassure her.
“Are you sure miss? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or disrespect you in any way.” She sounded so cute when she was nervous.
“Well if you can’t look at me, how exactly do you intend to help me with these dresses?” You can’t help but tease her, she made it too fun. You liked making her stutter.
“Um… I suppose you're right, miss.” She turns to face you, slowly. She looks you up and down with wide eyes, she’s stiff as a board. A brief silence goes by while you allow her to collect herself. 
“Well… pick something out of those boxes for me, any one you want.” Abby turns to the box closest to her feet, kneels down and opens it up. She pulls out a blue dress, similar to the one you would wear on your walks from time to time. 
“I-I like this one, blue looks pretty on you.” She looks at the dress pretending to study it, but it was just an excuse not to have to look at you in your bra. “I mean everything looks pretty on you, it’s just the first time I saw you, you were wearing blue so I started to like it when you would wear it because it would remind me-” 
“You think I’m pretty?” You cut her off since you had guessed she would have kept talking if you didn’t. 
She stutters out a response, “Well.. yes I-” 
“You know, you’re awfully pretty yourself.” You walk towards her looking up at her through your lashes and grab the dress from her. 
She laughs “Haven’t had many people call me pretty before, don’t think I really fit into the word, but thank you.” As she’s talking you slip on the dress and turn around, inviting her to zip it up for you. 
You laugh and reply, “You’re welcome.” Once you're zipped up you walk over to the mirror to see how it looks. “What do you think?” You had to admit the dress fit you immaculately. It hugged you in just the right places and the color was beautiful. 
“You-you look beautiful, it’s a-a beautiful dress miss.” She sounds a little breathless which caught you by surprise. 
“You really like it?” you asked, turning to her. 
“Yes, yes it looks very, very…” she takes a little breath, to compose herself “good on you miss.”
“I like it too.” You walk back over to her and turn around. “Gonna try another one then, since we’re keepin’ this one.” Abby starts unzipping you painfully slowly, trying to be as gentle as possible. You feel her knuckle glide down your back through the fabric of your dress and you’re not sure how much more you can take. You let the dress fall to your feet, turn back around and step even closer to her. 
Abby isn’t sure what to do, so she just takes a step back and says, “I-I’ll get you another dress to try on.” 
“You don’t think I look good just like this?” Gesturing to your bra and lacy panties. You were crossing a line, but you were hoping that you were right in the assumption that her nervousness was due to her attraction to you and not due to her just being plain scared of you. 
“Y-yes you look beautiful, bu-” She huffs a little “I-I thought you wanted to keep tryin’ on dresses. Don’t you have to get dressed for something like a walk or-” 
“Nope, I got nothin’ to do today.” 
“You don’t want to at least get into a nightgown or something because I-” You take a step even closer to her, you’re so close you could count every freckle that dotted her face. She cuts herself off, breathing out a hushed, “Hi.” not sure what else to say. Having you so close to her caused her to not be able to think straight. 
You could see the slight panic in her eyes, but there was something else: a desire. You couldn’t take it anymore, you lifted up onto your tip-toes and kissed her softly. She lets out a little squeak of surprise before melting into you. She gently held your jaw as you continued kissing her and you let out a hum of satisfaction. She pulls away quickly and you involuntarily let you a quiet whine.
“Wait-wait we shouldn’t do this.” her voice is barely a whisper. “I-I can’t lose my job and this could make your father mad. It’s not that I don’t want to.. I really really want to, but we both know I’m not good enough for you. You’re-” You cut her off kissing her again and she lets out a soft little moan in response. You start making your way to her jaw, lightly kissing a trail down her neck. “God,” she says trying to catch her breath, “you’re really not making this easy.” 
You start gently sucking and nipping her neck and she lets the tiniest moan slip from her lips. This only encourages you as you move back up to her lips, this time using your tongue to open up her mouth and she groans. You use her chest for support as you lean into her, trying to get as close to her as possible. She pulls away slightly “I can’t do this, I-” She sighs “I won’t be able to control myself, and I don’t wanna hurt you.” You just smile a little and kiss her again, harder this time, hoping it will finally convince her to give in. She whimpers into your mouth and kisses you back, she uses her tongue to massage yours and you moan at the sensation. 
“Bed,” she says between kisses, “please.” You move away from her and make your way over to the bed sitting down on the edge. “Lay down in the middle.” Her voice took on a new, more demanding tone causing the ache between your legs to grow painful. You did as she said and she climbed on top of you, putting her arms on either side of you, careful not to crush you. You looked up at her and realized she was looking at you like a meal. Your lips parted in surprise, and Abby took this as an invitation to kiss you again, roughly massaging her tongue against yours. She moved from your mouth to your neck. She started gently kissing her way down, you let out a little whine when she started sucking at the soft skin letting her teeth gently graze it. 
“God, you're so soft,” she breathes into your neck, “It’s driving me crazy.” She moves down to your clavicle gently kissing along it towards your shoulder.  “Can I go lower, miss?” She asks with a yearning that causes your breathing to grow heavier. You eagerly nod giving her permission. “I need to hear you say ‘yes’, miss.” 
“Yes, yes.” You reply, desperate. She moves to kneel in between your legs and starts kissing between your breasts and down your stomach. She makes a trail with her lips across your hips  and hovers her mouth over your panties. 
“Can I?” You can feel her breath on your sensitive clit through the fabric of your underwear and the small sensation is driving you wild.
“Please.” You manage to whimper out. Abby pulls your panties to the side and places a little kiss right on your clit before she starts licking at your sensitive bud causing you to let out a surprised squeak. You lace your fingers into her blonde hair, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of her rough tongue on your cunt. She teases your clit with her tongue, moving around it in circles. She lets out little satisfied moans whenever your hips buck up into her mouth. Suddenly she starts sucking hard on your sensitive bud and you moan loudly, “Feels so good Abs, don’t stop.” She looks up at you watching your face contort with pleasure and she starts grinding onto the mattress desperate for any relief. She could come just from watching you like this. 
“You’re so perfect, miss.” She groans against your cunt, the vibrations causing the pressure in your belly to build. 
“Wait.” You breathe out.
“What? What’s wrong, do you want me to stop? We can stop.” Abby starts to pull away, but you grab her hands and hold her in place.
“No, nothing’s wrong I just- I wanted to try something.” you reassure her.
“Oh…o-okay..” Abby rises up from between your legs and looks at you with a mix of confusion and curiosity. 
“Would you be okay with that?” you ask.
“Of course, miss, I'll do whatever you want me to do.” You nod, get up and crawl over to open the drawer in your nightstand. You grab what looks like a wad of towels and unwrap it revealing a double sided strap and harness. You turn to Abby with it in hand and her eyes grow wide.  
“You want me to-” She takes a breath, still staring at it, “to wear that?” You nod eagerly and hand it to her. “I’m not sure, miss, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself with that and I wouldn’t want to hurt you or accidentally be too rough with you and I-” she pauses “I really, really want to, I just don’t want to hurt you.” She looks up at you apologetically.
 “You can be as rough as you need to be, I’m not worried about you breakin’ me, not as fragile as I look.” You shoot a small smile at her, it was cute how worried she is, it’s sweet how she doesn’t want to hurt you, but you really wouldn’t mind that much. 
Abby’s eyebrows raise in surprise but she nods and says “Al-alright, I suppose I should get these off then.” gesturing to her pants. She stands up and begins unbuckling her belt eagerly. She lets her pants and underwear fall to the floor and within seconds the shirt’s gone too, leaving her in a sport’s bra. You couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping at the sight of her strong figure. You never really got to see her thighs because she was always wearing them stupid baggy pants, but they were so muscular and strong. The thought of grinding against them invades your mind causing you to clench around nothing. 
“See something ya like?” Abby smirks at you, clearly aware of her impressive physique. Now it was your turn to be flustered. 
“I-I.. yes. You- you’re so beautiful.” You look down at the white quilt, briefly to compose yourself before looking back up at her. Abby blushes a bit and smiles at you before she grabs the strap from the bed, she lets out the smallest moan as she pulls it on, the strap easily sinking into her. 
“Feels…feels real good.” She gasps out as she adjusts the harness. The sight of Abby like that had you dripping down your thighs, you were starting to grow impatient. 
“Get on your hands and knees for me baby, face the mirror.” You do as she says and she crawls back into the bed behind you. She kneels and rests her hands on your hips, smoothing them up and down. “Gonna use my fingers first, wanna make sure you’re nice and ready for me.” She takes her finger and swipes it up your slit gathering the wetness that had pooled there and starts teasing you entrance before sinking her large digit into your cunt. She gasps at how easily her finger slides into you, causing her to clench around the strap. She starts moving her finger in and out of your entrance slowly. She leans down, her mouth settling right next to your ear and whispers “You’re gonna watch me fuck you in that mirror.” You look up from the quilt and glance in the mirror. "Don't look away or I'll stop." She easily adds a second finger as you observe the way Abby is leaned over your naked body staring at you intently through the mirror. You whimper at the sight, tightening around her fingers. She leans to back away from your ear and starts kissing a trail down your spine. Her lips are so soft and the gentleness of the action paired with her roughly fucking you with her fingers was driving you insane. You begin letting out little moans every time her fingers pump into you. 
“You think you’re ready for me?” 
“Y-yes please.” you whimper, you would almost be embarrassed with how desperate you sounded, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. She pulls her fingers out of your soaking cunt and sucks them clean. She runs her hands gently down from your hips to your thighs. 
“Gonna go nice and slow, alright? Just tell me if you need to stop.” She guides the strap to your wet entrance and slowly starts sinking in. Your muscles stretch and contract around the thick strap and you loudly whimper at the feeling. Abby starts making small sounds, clearly trying to hold herself back. She sinks all the way in and you both let out loud moans, she could feel the other side of the strap sinking deeper into her. 
“You ok? I won’t move until you say.” Her voice is slightly pitched, she can barely manage to speak through the intense pleasure. Abby could barely contain herself. 
“I-I’m ok, you can move.” Abby lets out a large sigh of relief and begins slowly moving her hips. You watch her face through the mirror as she lets out little gasps and moans as she fucks you. She starts moving a little faster when she meets you eyes in the mirror, propelled by the sight of you watching her. 
“F-feels so good.” She breathes out. “Not sure I can hold myself back for much longer, baby.”
You can barely get out the words, “D-don’t I can take it.”
“A-alright, whatever you say miss.” She stops for a moment to grab your hips and adjust herself. A loud whimper escapes from your lips when she starts pounding into you. Hard. She’s hitting that perfect spot inside of you and you swear you start to see stars. Every time you try and take a breath a the air is fucked out of you. Abby can’t hold back her moans any longer, they loudly echo through the room along with your own. Her moaning somehow makes everything better, the fact that she can’t even begin to try and control herself has you clenching around the silicone dick.  
“God, this feel-feels so much better than I thought it would.” She says between moans. 
“F-fuck Abby, feels s-so good.” You whimper out, you start to let your head drop, starting to lose the strength. 
“K-keep looking in the mirror, want you to watch me fuck you.” You muster up the strength to pick your head back up, watching as Abby pounded into you. 
“Oh god.” Abby whimpers, further losing her composure as you obey what she says. She keeps fucking you at a rapid pace and you can’t even control the noises pouring out of you anymore. The both of your moans echo through the room, along with the sound of Abby fucking you. You were in Heaven. 
“Abs I- fuck!” You’re not even sure what you were trying to say, but she seemed to understand.
“I know baby, feels too good, feels- oh fuck.” Abby is starting to lose control, she’s getting too close too fast. “I need to slow down baby, or I’m gonna come.” You whine a bit as she slows down her pace. You grind back into her, trying to get some relief, but after a few seconds Abby speeds back up again. 
“Feels too good to be going slow, I-I can’t do it.” You let your head drop again, but Abby won’t have it, “Look at me, look at me through that mirror baby.” You can barely manage to hold your head up, but you do what she says. She notices that you’re starting to weaken so she wraps her hands around your stomach to pull you up so you're kneeling in front of her. She uses one arm to hold you against her as she continues to guide the strap in and out of you, her warm strong body supporting you through it all. “Keep watching the mirror baby,” she gasps into your ear, “fuck, feels so good.” 
You feel the pressure in your belly building, right when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore Abby moves her other hand down to tease your clit. She moves it in slow circles and you loudly moan her name, overcome with pleasure. 
“You gonna come baby?” Abby asks quietly in your ear. Your eyes start to close, your pleasure starting to reach an almost unbearable peak. “Keep your eyes open and watch that mirror, baby and maybe I’ll let you come.” She holds you tighter against her, her strong arm holding you in place as she somehow fucked you harder. 
“Please, please I need to-” You cut yourself off with a moan, trying to hold your climax back. 
“I’m almost there, miss, just a little-” Abby grunts, “l-little longer, you can take it, can’t you?.” Her moans start to build, she’s getting painfully close, she wants to make this last as long as possible, but she won't be able to make it much longer. She moves her fingers on your clit faster. “F-fuck, come for me baby, p-please miss.” At her words you let go, your moans echo through the room harmonizing with her wild grunts, both of you reaching your high at the same time. She keeps moving the strap in and out of you, fucking you through it. 
Eventually you start to come down and she has reduced you to a puddle of jelly. You could barely hold yourself up, relying completely on her arms to keep you upright. She lays you down on the bed gently and removes the strap, throwing it on the ground. She lays down next to you and pulls you practically limp body to lay on top of hers, resting your head on her chest and letting your legs intertwine. You can hear her heartbeat and she’s so, so warm. You wanted to say something, but you physically couldn’t, you were gonna need a bit to recover. 
Surprisingly Abby breaks the silence, softly whispering “Thank you miss.” At that you promptly fall asleep to the sound of her steady breathing. 
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happy pride month to my gals and my non-binary pals🌈! comments and notes are always appreciated. remember if you liked this go visit Jupiter X's page and check out the audio!!!! I love each and every one of you, I'm going to be posting more because of pride month and because y'all deserve it.
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thelov3lybookworm · 4 months
Note
omg can we please get some more delulu reader x delulu azriel where the whole ic thinks they’re crazy and would absolutely not be s good pair, but they’re delusional and think they’re obsessed w eachother
” look at him just staring at me, it’s so obvious he wants me it makes him look stupid ”
” babes he’s literally glaring at you as if he’s planning to murder you ”
” she just cannot look away can she? god I know she’ll be my girl by the end of tonight ”
” um hello??? she’s literally talking shut about you, I heard her a minute ago?????”
and they walk up to eachother looking like they’ll fight but then they kiss to everyones surprise and leave them all with their jaw dropped. bext morning they see az and reader having breakfast together, and they’re nice to eachother
” alright tell me again how you fell in love with me azzie”
” okay, so it was when you first punched me. I really felt the connection there ( no pun intended )😍😍 “
” ohhh mother above i knew it!!! for me it was when you almost choked me to death w your shadows, true love fr😍😍”
everyone at the table:😟😟😟😟😟😟
Delulu!azzie x delulu!reader (Part 2?)
Summary: The inner circle feels like... they are going insane.
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A/n: hehe i really got nothing to say but i love this looooolll 😂
alsooo... i think this could be read as a part 2 to the previous lil thing i wrote for this prompt, so I'll just link it here if any of you wanted to read it 😉
enjoy, babes 😉
•○🌑○•
Mor's pov.
Mor was seriously concerned for her friend, and it was not something that happened often.
Her friends were usually more sensible than this, and usually didn't call one of the most powerful male in the whole of prythian an ugly bastard and then always walk around nagging them.
But currently, Mor's best friend was glaring daggers at the Spymaster of the night court from across the dance floor, and Mor had never been more scared at the glare on the shadowsinger's face.
It wouldn't have mattered that much if Y/n and Azriel simply hated each other. But the fact that Y/n was so delusional over him and thought that the glares he sent her every waking moment of his day were because he was in love with her, didn't sit right with Mor.
Mor had tried to point it out multiple times to the winter court female, but the female either never paid attention, or she didn't care.
And now, as Mor and Y/n sat in the bar with drinks in their hands, the latter glaring all the way across the dance floor to the booth where the Spymaster was sat with the rest of the inner circle, Mor watched on.
A moment later, Y/n scoffed, turning to Mor.
"Look at him just staring at me, it’s so obvious he wants me. It makes him look stupid."
Mor's jaw was practically on the ground, and she spluttered out the first thing that came to her mind.
"Y/n, he’s literally glaring at you as if he’s planning to murder you." She whisper yelled, incredulous. But Y/n had turned away already, caught again in a staring-and-glaring-holes-in-the-other-person's-skull match with Azriel.
Mor sighed, swirling her drink in her glass before taking a long sip from it.
Even if Mor pretended that the two were really in love, she simply could not imagine them being a great couple. Not saying that she didn't want the two to be happy, but watching the pair constantly be at each other's throat gave her no hope that they could ever be in a loving relationship.
If they could simply sort out their problems with each other, then maybe there was a chance. But if not, Mor was sure she'd find one of their heads lying in the hallways of their home if they ever got together.
•○●⛦●○•
Cassian's pov.
If someone told the Lord of Bloodshed that he'd be scared shitless of his own brother a few months ago, he would have laughed.
But here he was, coiled tight like a spring, ready to jump into action if his brother decided to kill the winter court female right in the middle of the dancing and drinking bodies that filled Rita's.
It was absurd. Ridiculous, really, how much hatred radiated off of Azriel as he sat there, practically breathing flames as he stared at across the dance floor.
To get a reprieve from the constant tension in his shoulders, Cassian stood, stretching before making his way towards the bar, near where Mor was sat with her friend.
"He is such a loser. I swear I've never seen such a big loser in my life. Ever." Cassian overheard Y/n say, and he had to physically stop himself from laughing.
"Y/n-"
Mor began, but Y/n beat her to it.
"He's also such a jerk. Bet he never gets any females because of that shit attitude."
Cassian decided it was enough overhearing for the day and walked back to where Azriel sat, the rest of the inner circle having slowly dispersed.
Cassian handed a glass to Azriel, who never took his eyes off the female that now stood from the stool she was sitting on with Mor, now making her way towards the dance floor.
The general watched as his brother knocked back the drink, slamming the empty glass on the table in front of him.
"She just cannot look away, can she? God, I know she’ll be my girl by the end of tonight."
Cassian very nearly spat out his drink, coughing loudly as he stared at the Spymaster, who glanced at him, unamused.
"Are you okay brother?" Azriel didn't reply, his gaze fixed on the dancing female, her gaze fixed on him. "Hello? Are you listening? She was literally talking shit about you, I heard her, like, a minute ago?"
Cassian was not proud enough to believe he was he smartest of people, and he would admit that he did sometimes get confused over things that needed using his brain. But he would like to blame his dumbness on his brain being closely guarded by his thick skull.
But the things he did not understand? Those things were actually supposed to make sense.
But this? Azriel's weird delusion about how the female from the winter court was obsessed with him? This was not something that was supposed to make sense, and it would leave even the smartest person in Prythian scratching their heads.
But Azriel either didn't hear Cassian, or didn't care, because in the next moment, he stood, ignoring his brother as he made his way onto the dance floor, his steps sure and cocky.
Cassian watched in growing nervousness, then horror and shock, as Azriel stalked up to Y/n, as she stared at him, her eyes sharp.
Cassian watched, as his brother took the face of the winter court female's face in his hands, and promptly slammed his lips onto hers.
Cassian's eyes widened, his jaw unhinging from his face and dropping to the ground. A quick glance to the kissing pair's right told him he was not the only one who was experiencing this onslaught of emotional cocktail.
Mor stared back at Cassian, her eyes as big as Nyx's fists, her mouth opening and closing like a fish's.
The scene was comical, though it didn't erase the shock coursing through Cassian's veins. And all that he could think about was...
What the fuck?
•○🌑○•
"Was I dreaming or did last night really happen?"
Most of the inner circle was seated around the dining table in the house of wind, holding their cup of their preferred beverages or eating their breakfast.
They all glanced up at Cassian as he spoke, but before anyone could reply, in walked Y/n and Azriel.
The sight of the two of them clinging to each other was as jarring as the night before, when the two of them had been filled with lust and clung to each other, kissing until Az winnowed the two of them away.
Well- Cassian thought, that is one way to answer my question.
The two ignored everyone else, as if not aware of their surroundings as they settled down next to each other, one of Y/n's hands clinging tightly around Azriel's bicep as he used the other to pile food onto a plate.
Azriel picked his fork, scooping up some scrambled eggs, holding it up for Y/n, who smiled and opened her mouth for him. He slipped the spoon inside, then took a bite himself.
The inner circle watched in shock, all thought eddying out of their brains as they watched the loving exchange.
"Alright tell me again how you fell in love with me Azzie." Y/n mumbled, laying her head on his shoulder after she finished chewing, hearts in her eyes as she stared at the spymaster.
Azriel seemed to think for a moment, then he smiled down at her as he held up his fork to her mouth again. "Okay, so it was when you first punched me. I really felt the connection there."
Y/n made a face that screamed aww. "So the first time we met?" Azriel nodded, nudging her to open her mouth. "Oh mother above, I knew it! For me it was when you almost choked me to death with your shadows." She sighed dreamily as she watched him take a bite of the food, completely oblivious to the turmoil the inner circle was going through.
Mor rushed to stand, mumbling something about having an important meeting as she hurried away. Rhys and Feyre stood too, saying they needed to check up on Nyx. And before Cassian could point out that Feyre was literally holding the babe, they walked away.
Left alone with the swooning couple, Cassian made eye contact with Nesta, who gagged silently at the love in the air, then inclined her head towards the stairs.
Cassian was all too happy to get out of there, as the moment him and his mate were out of sight, the sounds of clothes hitting the floor sounded, along with declarations of love.
And, honestly, Cassian was not one to judge people or be disgusted by other's love life, but he couldn't help but sympathise with Nesta when she gagged again.
•○🌑○•
Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings
General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392
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ozzgin · 2 months
Note
I can't get your yakuza headcanons out of my mind, Daitou's got me in a chokehold and I'm not complaining, like--
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in regards to that doodle you made to show height difference between reader and the boys [I love your art btw (●♡∀♡)] - I can't picture myself in reader's style, I'm currently going through my goth phase in my 20s lmao; picture a big bitch with tattoos and messy hair who's listening to nothing but 2000s hits and screamo bands - so I'd like to request a headcanon of how Daitou would react to a gender-neutral reader like this :D I also like to incorporate the idea of them once being in a famous band that he's a fan of! (sorry if this seems like a lot, I have a huge imagination hehe)
but if he's more into the cute and helpless type, I'll just walk my ass out the door and yeehaw my way into another yandere's arms ✌😔
That's on me for not drawing the reader inserts as cartoonish cinder blocks :') In truth I'm a little bit embarrassed seeing how many likes that doodle has gotten, it was something I put together in a hurry and the clothing was meant to be baggy, shapeless, with not too many folds for the sake of simplicity. I myself am more of a pilgrim goth, just to emphasize the randomness of the choice.
Drawing reader inserts always leaves me a little anxious. If I use a light shade of gray, will people think I'm excluding poc? Will plus sized readers feel like they've been disregarded? What about masculine readers? As someone who's demiromantic I always struggle taking appearance or gender into consideration, because to me it has no influence whatsoever. Which is hard to express when you want to offer blank slate visuals as an extra to the story.
What I'm trying to say is that all of my characters would like you for who you are. Sure, they find your looks cute, but it's not the defining reason. Maybe you have similar traits to them, maybe you're the complete opposite and they find it intriguing. You could be a buff man and Daitou would be just as grateful to have someone who isn't afraid of him. I usually stick to a female reader for bigger stories to avoid messing it up long term, but in the grand scheme of things it makes no difference. I always imagine reader to be a shapeless blob that provides the dialogue I need for the story mood. There's no concrete preference or type for any of my OCs. I mean, ideally you'd like them back and not hang them upside down above a BBQ pit but I feel these are sensible requirements (?).
And now for the actual headcanons since my ramble is over.
First encounter is comically awkward but for reasons you’re unaware of yet. You’re obviously used to people staring at you (more so in a country like Japan), so you were expecting the curious glance every now and then. On the other hand, being under scrutiny, from a man even more unusual looking than you at that, is odd. Mildly uncomfortable. You’re shifting yourself from one leg to another, hoping to be done with the introductions soon.
On his end, Daitou is anxiously fidgeting and trying his best to focus. He’s seen this face before and he can’t shake off the familiar feeling. Where the hell…He obviously can’t downright gawk at you, and he isn’t sure how to politely formulate a question. After several sheepish peeks, it finally dawns on him: weren’t you part of that band he really likes? No, what would the chances be? Then again, how many people out there would look exactly like you? Is it rude to ask? He has no idea. He resumes his mumbled description of the apartment and hands you the papers to be signed.
Back at his place, he finally digs through his merch and sprawls out the available clues. “I didn’t know you were into this kind of music”, Kazuya comments as he looks over the man’s shoulder. He’d come over to ask about the new tenant. “I’m pretty sure it’s them.” He concludes, confidently placing his index over a CD cover. “Huh? Who? The tenant?” Kazuya holds back his chuckle. “Why would a celebrity show up for a shady apartment offer? You’re tripping, man.”
“I’m sorry, this is getting ridiculous.” You finally exclaim, annoyed by the persistent stares of the now two men facing you. You’re standing in front of the apartment building, arms crossed, huffing at the tall scarred man and his blonde friend. “No, I’m sure of it. Even the tattoo is the same.” Daitou turns to whisper to Kazuya, oblivious to your complaints. In turn, Kazuya lightly elbows him, mouthing something about being rude. “Just ask them, man.” He adds, this time louder. “Ask me what??” You groan. “W-were you…um…in this band by any chance?” Daitou manages to blurt out, searching his pocket for the CD case and ceremoniously laying it under your eyes.
Ah. It finally clicks and you exhale, relieved. You confirm their suspicions and show them some backstage photos to solidify your claim. You ask Daitou if he wants an autograph or something, then swiftly scribble your signature on a piece of paper and hand it out to him. He holds it with a wide, childish grin. “You’re a weird one, you know? You could’ve just asked. I guess I didn’t expect to find a fan in the wild, especially here.” Daitou carefully folds the souvenir, eyes lidded with nostalgia. “Oh yes, it’s great. Drowns out the screams.”
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