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lattenha · 8 months

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TERRIBLE TWOS — P. SUNGHOON

SYNOPSIS! A rash decision on your end causes you and Sunghoon to break up. What you think is for the best turns out to be the complete opposite, actually. Cue two years later when a random encounter with your ex forces you to revisit past feelings that has never quite fully departed from either of you. PAIRING! Chairman!Sunghoon x Fem!Reader WC! 11.4k (Got carried away)

GENRE/CW! Exes getting back together, fluff, slight angst if you squint, smut (fingering, brief mentions of fem oral receiving, sunghoon has a 7 inch cock; i headcanon that, unprotected sex, missionary, creampie, lots of tongue kissing), swearing, reader is in denial just a tad bit, ft. non-idol!yunjin, reader is a struggling fine arts major, etc. MDNI

A/N: originally, i intended for this to be a simple one shot but it somehow turned out to be greater than that in the end lol. this was also my first attempt at writing smut; i've always wanted to try it but damn is it kinda hard. i feel like the title doesn't match or capture the story as good but whatever-- it used to be called 'seasons,' yet that didn't make sense either so... terrible twos it is! i hope you enjoy <3

“Y/n?”

A trace of uncertainty laces the man's voice, his mind racing with the possibility that he might have mistaken a stranger for someone from his past. Internally, he winces at the prospect of this awkward mix-up, dreading such an encounter with a random person. He clings to the hope that his intuition proves accurate.

Could it really be her? Amid the bustling crowd, she always managed to stand out, an unmistakable aura surrounding her. Her presence eclipsed even the most vibrant of settings, radiating a unique energy that outshone a field of flowers.

When he tentatively calls out her name in a hushed tone, she spins around on her heel, and for an ephemeral moment, Sunghoon feels as though he's stepped into a scene from a classic romance film.

Time stills and so does he.

Each of your movements steals his breath away. The way your hair dances in harmony with the wind, and how your eyelashes cast the most delicate shadow upon your high cheekbones. Your gradual unveiling leaves him struggling to swallow past an inexplicable lump in his throat.

Sunghoon notices the moment your eyes widen. Behind those enchanting orbs, he discerns a flicker of nostalgia and a touch of melancholy. During your time together, he had the uncanny ability to read those emotions hidden within the depths of your eyes.

“Sunghoon…” You say no louder than a mere whisper that could easily get lost in the summer’s wind that passes through the both of you.

Your heart throbs in your chest. The biological response is far too overwhelming that you can feel your stomach tying itself in double knots. You think you might need to be pointed to the nearest bathroom so you can barf up the swarm of butterflies that disturb your system. No doubt, does crossing paths with an ex whom you share a long history with manage to do that to you.

“H-how are you?” You’re the first to strike up a conversation despite that being Sunghoon’s unspoken responsibility.

How am I? Sunghoon has to brace himself to collect his messy thoughts.

“I’m pretty good, and yourself?”

His response is curt and short. In any other setting, he would have elaborated on his answer but he wasn’t sure how much information was too much to reveal to an ex regarding the state of his well-being. You nod at his words, not really expecting much nor having high hopes that he would give you more to work with in this conversation of playing catch-up between an ex.

See, your relationship ended amicably, with both of you acknowledging that the spark kindled between you two had faded out. With your mind elsewhere, too focused on your academics (so you like to say), and Sunghoon preparing to inherit his family’s business, there was little room for romance in either of your daily routines. Your typical weekend dates were swapped out for meetings with major corporations and other soon-to-be-chairman-related activities so that he could fully understand what the rest of his future held for him.

Even though you missed having your boyfriend's undivided attention, you refused to act as a temporary roadblock that prevented him from making significant progress. Despite your heart and brain being at war with each other, you made the conscious decision to slowly back down from being his lover and tucked your face in the pages of your academic textbooks.

With Sunghoon too busy to even acknowledge that his girlfriend was distancing herself from him, you were the first to come forward, bearing the news that breaking up would be the optimal solution to your and his fading presence in one another’s lives.

That night when you bid goodbye, he felt half his heart shatter inside of him. Little did you know that you carried the other part wherever you went, but now that you were no longer capable of sheltering that missing piece, it almost made him want to die inside more than just a tad bit— a lot, actually.

He pretended to play it cool as your back turned to him and he watched you retreat to your car, feeling both helpless and defeated. With an unflinching countenance, a tightly clenched jaw, and fingers gripped at his sides, Sunghoon longed for his feet to have chased after you, preventing your departure from his life. He yearned to undo whatever had driven you away, to rewrite his mistakes and reshape your shared history.

Sadly, not even the first star in the sky he saw at night could grant him something as demanding as that.

On the contrary, had those things happened, he wouldn’t be here today on a Thursday afternoon rekindling a connection that got tossed up in the air and fell through his fingertips.

“I—“ Before you get a chance to deliver your sentence Sunghoon’s hold on your arm prompts him to draw you to his chest.

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat, eyes simultaneously widening for the second time thanks to a certain ex. You look up at the taller one with crinkled brows. A mixture of confusion and a looming feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach that hasn’t quite left, tugging at your heartstrings. His intoxicating scent of Dior Sauvage is all too overwhelming for your nose to take in. You swear your head could start spinning any minute now.

He’s so close to you. You’re so close to him. If someone were to come by and accidentally bump into you, you would be pressed up against his chest, breaking what limited distance is keeping you two apart.

A bike rider disrupting pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk whizzes by, obnoxiously ringing the bell attached to their handlebar as if they aren’t to be blamed for riding on the concrete pavement, and it’s only then do you realize that Sunghoon was protecting you from getting hit. His body relaxes once he declares that it’s safe for you to comfortably stand in the open from any oncoming obstructions.

“Sorry… acted on impulse.” His grasp on you immediately retreats to the inside of his pant pockets and you swear that his touch leaves a ghosting sensation on your skin.

Sunghoon refuses to meet your lingering gaze, eyes averting to some random couple walking their dog across the street from where the two of you are standing. It’s almost funny how he fully believed two years ago that one day both of you would be exactly like that: dog owners who take their beloved fur baby on walks together and enjoy the simplicity of the little things that a relationship has to offer.

“It’s okay, thank you,” You murmur, unsure of where things should go from here.

A beat of silence comes and goes before Sunghoon has the chance to take the initiative to prove he’s different from his past self.

The past self you witnessed throughout the duration of your shared romanticism. The past self who failed to convince you to stay because he never wanted you to leave his side. What he wanted was to work things out and to understand what he could do to change and make things better for the two of you.

Even if that meant you breaking up with him first to realize this.

“Listen, why don’t we…” He suddenly starts. Sunghoon analyzes your face and when your features evidently show that you’re all ears for what he has to say, he takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Get dinner. Together.“

Although the question comes out more like a demand rather than a request, you’re slightly taken aback because you were almost certain Sunghoon probably resents you for the breakup— at least that’s what you tell yourself— and that he doesn’t want any business involving you entering his life for a repeat performance. The only different thing is that you’re his ex.

Can you blame him? It was so sudden.

The concealed hurt he tried to mask but failed to do so when you told him you wanted to end things, hoping it’d be left on good terms, rambling about how much you do and will continue to care for him no matter what he does in life or who he chooses to love after you. It seems you did more talking than he got the chance to, and Sunghoon wasn’t sure if you had this all planned leading up to that moment, or if he should’ve seen it coming.

Whatever it was, Sunghoon could never hate or repent you, but you’re no telepathic mind-reader and wouldn’t know how he feels about you now unless you asked.

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you ponder the idea of sitting in a fancy restaurant with Sunghoon and sharing a long conversation over an expensive meal that is highly overpriced for its ridiculously small portions.

“On one condition,” You quip. Sunghoon gestures for you to keep going and you clear your throat. “No five-star Michelin places, okay? I just want a simple dinner to make up for lost time.”

The older male chuckles, nodding his head sensibly. If there’s one thing Sunghoon learned about you is that you were never hard to please and preferred the opposite of a high-end luxury lifestyle that he naturally grew up with.

“Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 8, how’s that sound?”

“That’s perfect but um—“ you purse your lips. “Do you… Do you still remember where I live?”

“Of course. It would take a lot more than time and distance apart from each other, for me to forget your every being.”

Sunghoon leans in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The underlying intimacy hiding beneath his actions has you contemplating what the course of your relationship would have looked like for the two of you, had you not broken up with a man as sweet and thoughtful as him.

Was calling it quits between you two a mistake? Should you have stuck it out just a little longer?

You can only shove those thoughts to the farthest point in the back of your mind and recenter your focus to the handsome ravenette.

Sunghoon, sporting a warm grin that gradually grows into a pearly white showcase of his perfect teeth and adorable canines, makes it worth marveling if second chances are a thing that people still stand by.

The next evening, Sunghoon unexpectedly arrived at your front door 20 minutes ahead of your readiness. While you were trying to situate yourself into your cami dress that paired well with the current season, a knocking sound coming from the entrance to your studio unit startled you in its wake. You tapped on the screen of your phone to check the time and crinkled your nose when the numbers staring back at you read 7:40.

Sunghoon’s habit of arriving for an occasion earlier than expected was not unusual for his character. The taller's mannerisms crept into other facets of his social life after years of being trained to believe that "early is on time" and "on time is late." However, 20 minutes ahead of schedule was definitely new to you, and part of you can’t help but think if this is stemming from anxiety or if that’s just you projecting your nerves onto his much early arrival.

“Just a sec!” You struggled to reach for the zipper to your dress, stress-sweating due to the pressure of having to rush through the rest of your routine.

After what felt like a millennia you finally managed to seal yourself shut into your attire and scurried to the front door where poor Sunghoon was waiting for you to answer.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t get to the zipper of my dress and I don’t think me flashing you or my neighbors in semi-public is socially acceptable.” You awkwardly laugh, strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck and forehead from the accumulated sweat you managed to produce.

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head at your guilty tendency to overshare too much information for the dramatics.

“No worries. I know I showed up earlier than expected. Don’t worry about me, do what you need to do.” He smiles softly and for a second it almost slips your mind that you’re no longer romantically involved with each other.

Oh, how you wish you could leap at him and smother the dashing man with kisses all over his Greek god-like, beautiful face…

“Here,” The taller unveils a bouquet of flowers that he attempted (underline, attempted) to hide behind his back. In reality, you could already see bits of it peeking out but chose to play coy about the item he was holding back from giving you.

You fawn at the striking arrangement of tulips that come in different shades of the prettiest of pinks. Tulips. Of course, he would remember that those are your favorite. His words from yesterday ring in your ears, and believing them, you truly start to confide that Sunghoon could never boot you out of his memory as easy as a snap of his fingers.

“The prettiest bunch of flowers for the prettiest girl.” Sunghoon cautiously says, unsure if that would be stepping a line. To be fair, there isn’t an official handbook on what you should or shouldn’t say to an ex— except for some of the more common phrases; whatever that may be.

You let out a lighthearted laugh at the bold, yet cheesy, compliment and invited Sunghoon into the safe haven of your apartment, ignoring the way your heart practically skipped a beat when he said that.

He’s been here on plentiful occasions so he’s really no stranger to the arrangement of your flat and could probably draw out an entire floor plan if he wanted to. At one point he almost committed to the thought of moving in with you, but you were a firm believer that it would be best if he stuck to the minimalist mansion he decorated himself; it was passed down to him from none other than his father. Needless to say, Sunghoon was a pouty puppy that day.

“I’m almost ready I promise.” You say. “I just need to add some finishing touches and then I’m all yours for the night.” Immediately your hands fly to your mouth when realization dawns on you about the delivery of your words.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, and luckily, you miss the faint smirk that tugs at the corner of his plump lips teasingly.

“You know what I mean!” You panic, waving off the metaphorical atmosphere that surrounds both of you.

You excuse yourself and escape to your room as the tips of your ears start to flush with embarrassment.

Once the door leading to your bedroom shuts behind you with a mellow thud, your back presses up against the surface of the entryway. A loud sigh that you weren't even aware you were repressing since Sunghoon arrived breaks out past your tinted lips. With your mind a foggy mess and your heart threatening to leap right out of your chest, you’re under the impression that you resemble the stereotypical anime school girl the way your entire demeanor changes when you’re around him.

But that’s the thing.

It’s only Sunghoon.

It’s just Sunghoon.

So what if you guys dated in high school and partially during college? So what if he was the first and only guy you’ve been with, and even though you have no one to compare him to, he would still be the best ex you could ever have? So what if you regret breaking up with him because you got ahead of yourself and refused to be transparent with him?

So what if you want him back…

You pat both sides of your cheeks to wake yourself from a philosophical dilemma. you refuse to go down a rabbit hole of emotions especially when you’re about to go out to dinner.

You shuffle through your wardrobe in search of a certain pair of Converse that a special someone gave to you as a birthday gift. When you find it neatly stored away in its original packaging and the box that it came in you’re almost too eager to slip your feet into the collar of the Chuck Taylor’s.

You halt in your steps when you reach your vanity and grab your everyday bottle of perfume, spritzing one pump, then two, then three, and four more of the floral scent, that you’re showering yourself in it at this point.

When you've deemed that you’re completely ready and satisfied with your appearance for the evening, you exit the inviting comfort of your cozy chambers. Sunghoon’s back is facing you as you ascend into the living room. You can’t make out much of what he’s doing and he’s seemingly too preoccupied to notice your footsteps stalk across the wooden paneling. His neck is craned downward looking at something on the decorative table where you have a neat arrangement of framed pictures.

“You still have this?” He turns around revealing the photograph that he was referring to, now in his possession. There’s a distant glimmer of emotion that you can’t quite make out peeking around the curves of his irises.

You let out a resigned sigh.

You’ve been caught red-handed for leaving a single trace of the past out in the open.

Of all the furniture and miscellaneous objects that collect dust on different surfaces in your flat, Sunghoon chose to go for the photograph of you and him standing under a cherry blossom tree in Ilsan Park. Your arm was hooked around his waist and his was wrapped around your shoulder. The brightest of smiles stretched across your faces as petals danced around you. It was the perfect moment captured in stillness and you wish you could leap through pictures to relive that special day. A distant memory that feels like it happened not too long ago.

“I couldn’t get rid of it. It’s— That’s one of my favorite pictures of us.” You simply explain.

It was true, because out of all of the selfies, candid photos, and other pictures you shared together with Sunghoon, your date to Ilsan Park remained your number one core memory as a couple.

You watch intently as Sunghoon places the photo back where it originally belonged on the console.

“I think that’s one of my favorites, too.” He says as a matter of fact. “That or the one where we went to Lotte World and wore matching uniforms together.” The taller laughs.

You giggled, the recollection of your amusement park date flashing across your mind. You dragged him to go on each and every attraction with you as he stumbled in your tracks, struggling to keep up with your social battery. You felt like two high schoolers in love at the ripe age of 20 because being with Sunghoon gave you the impression that you were your 15-year-old self again.

“I like that one as well! I thought I looked pretty cute in that uniform.” You grin sheepishly.

Sunghoon chuckles and it causes you to whip your head to survey him. His eyes crinkle before they’re no longer crescent and back to their original doe-eyed shape.

“You’re still cute, y’know that?”

The comment sends your heart ablaze along with the blood that rushes to the surface of your cheeks. You can only hope that the thin layer of makeup and blush you applied is strong enough to camouflage the effect that sunghoon has on you. It’s no secret that he was always a smooth talker and still is. It makes you wonder if he’s ever used that flirtatious skill on other women he’s come across after you— or if he has.

You tut your tongue at him and reach for your crossbody purse draped on the couch that you lazily tossed aside yesterday after coming home.

“Ready, m’lady?” Sunghoon twists the knob and pushes the front door open, supporting the weight with his broad frame to keep it from closing in on you two when you exit.

“Wait!” You pip, halting in your steps. You briskly retreat to your room and grab the bouquet of tulips you left on the side table next to your bed.

You scurry over to Sunghoon, cradling the arrangement of florals like it was your baby. The haired boy opens his mouth to say something but you’re too fast to retort,

“I wanna show it off. They’re too pretty to be left at home.”

He nods and motions his hand for you to leave the unit first. The taller gives himself a mental pat on the back for inquiring in a floral shop before coming to retrieve you for dinner.

Tulips are a girl’s best friend, after all. For you, at least.

Coincidentally dinner happens to occur at the one restaurant you frequently visited when you and Sunghoon were dating. It was a simple ma and pa spot only locals in the area knew of. They were popularly known for their cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup. You like to think of it as a secret only two of you know about and continue to gatekeep it from your friends or families from ever coming across of it.

The owners grew familiar with both of you through your frequent visits and friendly conversations. your rapport with them resulted in a warm welcome every time you returned, often accompanied by a generous discount as a token of their appreciation. Since your last visit to their restaurant, a while has gone by, and you both have been overdue to make an appearance at the restaurant.

“Aigoo, Sunghoon-ah, it’s been so long!” Mrs. Kim exclaims, wearing the biggest and brightest smile that brings out the crinkles in her complexion when she notices two familiar faces. “And Y/n, it’s good to see you too!” She turns to you with the same mien still permanently plastered on her face.

You bow your head. Her contagious smile has you mirroring her grin.

“Come, come, sit.” She waves her hand for the two of you to follow in her trail as she leads both of you to your— undesignated but designated— table that you and Sunghoon would constantly sit at.

Before you even have a chance to pull out your chair, Sunghoon beats you to it with surprising swiftness. The aged wood scrapes gently against the floor as he courteously pulls the chair back for you. A warm smile tugs at your lips as you appreciate this chivalrous gesture, unable to contain a soft giggle of delight.

Mrs. Kim watches the interaction between the two of you and smirks, completely out of the loop that you have broken up; still under the assumption that you’re both dating to this day. Who could blame her when in her eyes you were the perfect missing piece for one another in this world like you were made for each other from the start.

“The usual?” She asks despite already knowing the answer to her question.

“Yes please,” Sunghoon nods.

He sits after folding his blazer in half so that it can rest neatly on the chair's backrest. To add some fuel to the flame, he unbuttons the cuffs to his long sleeves and rolls them past his forearms so that they stop an inch below his elbows. The expensive watch that rests snugly on his wrist glistens, almost blinding you. You’re reminded that the man sitting across from you is responsible for an entire company under his name and capable of powerful things.

You gulp. You feel like you’re watching something you shouldn’t be and instead take an interest in the condiments that are pushed to the side of your table.

Soy sauce, vinegar, napkins…

When you think that you’re ready to re-center your attention onto Sunghoon once your racing heart has calmed down from its high, the taller has his eyes closed as he combs his fingers through his hair. His lips are parted ever so slightly and there’s a shine to his plush tiers.

He has to be doing this on purpose now.

You watch the way his Adam apple bobs when he swallows and you swear it should be a sin to look this effortlessly good in warm overhead lighting.

You huff, a little too audibly for the male across from you to hear and his doe eyes flutter open. The sudden eye contact catches you off guard and you’re struggling to maintain yourself from the tension your mind is projecting. You shift around in your chair trying to find a more comfortable position.

This is going to be a long dinner.

After Mrs. Kim returned with your delectable dishes, the food vanished quickly as you guys delved into stories and shared the exciting highlights of your respective journeys. You and Sunghoon spent the rest of your meal at the table reminiscing about the past two years including the many ups and downs you’ve dealt with.

You learned that a month after your breakup, Sunghoon’s father officially stepped down, handing over the reins of the company to his son as the new successor. The ravenette confided in you, revealing that even though he had been groomed for this role his whole life, the transition wasn't as smooth as he had envisioned. The weight of responsibility felt overwhelming. Taking charge of a major company brought with it a level of pressure he had never experienced before. The expectations were high, both from the company's board and the employees who had known him since he was young.

As he grappled with the complexities of his new position, Sunghoon couldn't help but reminisce about a simpler life. He missed the carefree moments he used to share with you, the laughter, and the ease of his unannounced visits when he would turn up at your door with snacks he bought from the corner store and canned beer.

Eventually his determination and drive to persevere kept him standing strong in the face of these obstacles. With his family behind him, a supportive workforce, and you in the back of his mind, he knew he had people to look back on and make them proud.

You praised the older for his character development, gushing at his transition from uncertainty to confidence, while sympathizing with the initial troubles he first started off with. Being a chairman at his age is bound to weigh heavily on his mental and emotional health, and you can’t help but wish that you had stayed by his side through it all in order to be that support pillar he needed at immediacy.

“So, what about you? I didn’t really get to hear your answer yesterday.” Sunghoon asks.

You blinked. “Me? Well, uhm…”

A bubble of insecurity creeps into your stomach. Your mind races through a mental checklist of your own achievements, or rather, the lack thereof, especially when compared to Sunghoon’s impressive journey. While your lives have taken very drastically different paths, you can’t shake the feeling that at the end of the day, the two of you are worlds apart from each other. He’s the chairman of a highly respected company. And you? You’re just a college graduate with a bachelor’s degree in fine arts. A pursuit that feels miles away from Sunghoon’s milestones.

During the period that he was absent from your everyday life, all you managed to build was your art portfolio, which you eagerly sent to numerous galleries in a desperate bid to gain recognition as a struggling artist. Rejection letters became an all too familiar sight, each offering the same hollow praise— impressed but not interested. Those were dark times, where self-doubt loomed large.

Thankfully, your situation started to improve when you summoned the courage to step out of your comfort zone. You took to social media, opening art accounts on Instagram and Twitter, and sharing your artistic odyssey on TikTok. Yunjin, one of your closest friends and best friend since middle school, commissioned you to paint a mural inside a cafe she was working at. “I begged my boss for this to happen!” She said enthusiastically over the phone the night she asked you for the favor. Everything to you was a leap of faith, a glimmer of hope that prompted you to fully believe in the light at the end of every tunnel.

In spite of your situation turning out for the better, it was impossible to ignore the inescapable sense of solitude and loneliness that clung to you like a shadow. It followed you everywhere you went. A mental reminder that, no matter how bright life was starting to seem, you still felt trapped and not completely content with yourself.

You convey these exact thoughts and feelings to Sunghoon in a messy ramble, hoping that this unintentional therapy session you’ve turned dinner into won’t scare him off. You can only hope that you’re not ruining the evening with a sob story of another art kid struggling to make a name for themselves in a society, where choosing art as a career path is at a greater disadvantage in comparison to your stronger counterparts.

When you find yourself coming to the end of your rant, a wave of silence washes over the table, and you grab the nearest cup of water to gulp from. Ignoring the condensation that sweats around the glass and soils your palms. Your eyes look everywhere, purposefully avoiding Sunghoon and the tragic visage he’s probably giving you right about now.

“Y/n, look at me.”

You raise your head, complying to his soft demand.

“I’m proud of you,” he begins, and in that instant, a surge of emotion that has been suppressed for far too long wells up within you. “It takes a lot of courage and willpower to continue to follow a path you’re uncertain of.” The comment makes Sunghoon chuckle dryly, closely reminded of himself, shaking his head. “But look at you, you’re doing so great.”

The warmth in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes— they combine like a gentle storm, and suddenly, tears brim your eyes, begging to spill over. Your vision is splotchy and you refuse to blink, save for ruining your mascara. You weren’t planning on being an emotional wreck tonight, especially over dinner with your ex.

“I understand how hard it must have been dealing with those struggles alone, and I wish I was there by your side to help support you when it happened.” Sunghoon continues. He pauses to take in a breath before resuming, “But I’m here now… I’m not going anywhere, and if you’d let me— I want back into your life again, Y/n.”

A solitary tear breaks free, followed by another, and then another, until suddenly your eyes unleash a torrent of waterworks like a relentless downpour from a stormy sky. You hide your face in a handful of napkins you hastily grabbed, unaware that Sunghoon got up to move from his seat and slipped into the chair next to yours. His touch catches you off guard but you immediately relax as he guides you into his embrace, allowing you to hide yourself in his arms; your face tucked away in his chest. He caresses your hair, his slender fingers thread through your styled locks as he lulls you to comfort from your shaken state.

The two of you stay rooted in that position until you confidently and mentally reassure yourself that you are okay; you’re going to be okay. Your breathing has calmed down from its high and returned to a normal, healthy rate as your tears subsided and are non-existent.

No longer conscious of your makeup— a matter far from substantial to care for anymore— you wipe away the mess around your eyes. Black clumps of mascara and some concealer transfer onto the napkin. Seeing the stains garner a weak laugh to emit from you. Sunghoon cranes his neck to survey what you’ve become engrossed with. He sees the ruined makeup and laughs lightly into your hair.

You’re thankful that there aren’t many customers dining in tonight and that it’s just you, Sunghoon, and three other parties who are far too busy drinking, conversing, and laughing amongst themselves to acknowledge the young couple tucked away in the corner.

Mrs. Kim leads both you and Sunghoon out of the restaurant with a warmth akin to a grandmother bidding her grandchildren farewell, her heartfelt wish for your safe return home evident in her loving smile.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Kim. Thank you, again, for another delicious dinner.” Sunghoon bows at a 90-degree angle and the formality stirs a boisterous laugh from the frail old lady. You mimic his actions, also expressing your gratitude for the lovely meal and free dessert she served to you guys ‘on the house.’

“When you guys come back I better see a wedding ring on her finger, Sunghoon-ah.” Mrs. Kim scolds lightly. You almost choke on your own saliva at the remark, coughing awkwardly to cover up your bewilderment. Sunghoon does his best to maintain his composure for the sake of the elder’s oblivion.

“You guys disappear for two years and still no diamond in sight. I was hoping some big change happened!” She clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth, crossing her arms.

Sunghoon dips his head again in an apologetic manner. “You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.”

You whack the taller’s arm giving him a what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look, eyebrows scrunched with perplexity. The last thing you want is to continue to feed into Mrs. Kim’s false reality that the two of you are still a couple. Who’s to say that Sunghoon isn’t actually on the same page as you and everything is just a facade? I mean, sure, he’s been flirty here and there, bought you flowers, comforted you at dinner, and practically asked you to take him back…

Your trust in Sunghoon has clearly waned, a result of your fluctuating self-confidence that leads you to confide in the pessimistic "what ifs." Your clouded judgment and self-doubt gnaw at your thoughts, casting doubt on the possibility of a reunion between the two of you.

Sunghoon ignores the daggers slicing at the left side of his face and the buzzing pain you inflicted on him from the harsh impact of your hand. His digits dig gently into your side, drawing you closer to him. You stumble ever so slightly and flash an unconvincing awkward smile to the old lady.

You situate yourselves into the driver and passenger seats of his Hyundai Ioniq. You’re quiet when you pull the seat belt over your upper half, and for the first 10 minutes, not a single word was uttered from either you or the male sitting behind the wheel. Your mind loiters as you watch the building lights illuminating the dark troposphere of Seoul whizz by at 2x speed.

You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.

Yeah right… You almost roll your eyes but catch yourself prolonging the idea of a hypothetical engagement and wedding ceremony with Sunghoon as your groom.

Would he have gone down on one knee to propose to you had both of you remained lovers?

You shake the contemplation loose from your prefrontal cortex.

“Is it okay if I roll the window down?” You’re the first to break the ice. Sunghoon nods, his attention still focused on the road in front of him. Without looking, his fingers find the car’s air-con button to turn it off and he gives you the ‘go’ to proceed with your desire.

The tempered glass descends and you’re immediately greeted with the beating rush of the summertime air. You giggle and rest your arms on the weatherstrip trimming of the Hyundai, your head poking out like an excited dog who’s riding in the car with its tongue hanging from its mouth. You close your eyes, taking in the wind that messes with your hair and brushes past your skin. It’s enough to transcend you into a different headspace, almost forgetting that you’re in a moving vehicle and not on some speedboat skidding across the water in Europe.

Sunghoon looks your way, unable to suppress the natural smile that lights up his face whenever he sees you. You truly are a surge of energy he needs when he wants to uplift himself if he’s feeling down. You’re his happy pill— so much so, that he wishes he could keep a chibi version of you for him to carry in the pocket square of his suits and let you rome on the wooden surface of his office desk to help him get through the work day. It’s silly and love-sickening, but Sunghoon only knows how to act a fool with you around him.

His fingers drum against the padding of the steering wheel, waking you from your daydream. You hadn’t realized that you’ve already made it back to the city and are soon approaching your apartment complex. Your neighborhood is only a couple of turns away from your current destination as the two of you sit at a red light. You roll the window up, at least it was fun for the duration it endured.

When he pulls up on the side of the street in front of your building, you try to find some lame excuse to stay with him for another minute longer, not wanting to say goodnight to him. You’re scared that this evening will be a one-off event and you'll return to your old ways, enveloped once more in the arms of self-isolation that consumes you completely.

Your grip on the door handle tightens.

“Sunghoon,” you shift your view in his direction. “You don’t mind walking me to my front door, do you?”

The male smiles with his eyes.

“Who am I to not accompany a lady when needed.”

Sunghoon makes quick work to unbuckle himself from the driver’s seat and rounds the front of the car to open the door for you. He holds out his hand for you to take, which you generously do so, and grants him the unspoken permission to whisk you away into the levels of your residential building.

The elevator ride is a close resemblance to the trip back to your place, however, there’s a contrasting atmosphere waiting to burst like a champagne bottle and spill over. Sunghoon’s holding your hand the entire way and you don’t resist the notion.

When you approach your unit at the end of the hall, you fish for your keys that are sitting at the bottom of your bag. Sunghoon’s hand slips out of your grasp and you almost whine at the loss of his warmth and touch, but you know he’s only doing it for you to use both free hands to ultimately unlock your door. The click! of the lock coming from the other side is an indication that you can push past the door once the knob is turned.

You stand there, hesitant to enter your own home.

“I guess— this is it?” You murmur tentatively to yourself and the taller. You rock on your heels purposefully stalling time as you force both him and yourself to stare a little longer at the iron numbers detailing your front door.

You let out a rigged breath.

“Tonight was great. The longest I’ve been out of the house in a month, really.” You cringe pathetically at the confession knowing that a month ago Yunjin was the one who pulled you out of bed to get some fresh air and sunlight because you were hiding away like a vampire. "Thank you... Sunghoon, for treating me to dinner and spending the evening with me..."

He remains stoic and unusually quiet, making it challenging to decipher what he’s thinking or feeling. You wish you could enter his mind to get a glimpse of how his brain functions. You’d hate to seem pitiful for hoping that his advances from today were, if at all, genuine.

If what he said at dinner was coming from the heart.

As you contemplate what might be your last encounter with your 'the one who got away,’ Sunghoon astounds you with yet another trick up his sleeve, when he secures your wrist in his delicate grasp. Forever one step ahead of you, his lips collide with yours in a passionate fervent. The only appropriate reaction that you can give him in response is to return the kiss with just as much fervor. The strap to your purse slides off your shoulders and lands below you with a little thud thanks to Sunghoon’s antsy hands pushing it out of the way.

He cages you against the surface of the door, your back bumping into it when he forces the distance between your bodies to dissipate. Bothered by the tiny gap that prevents you from being as close as you possibly can to him. The only active barrier is now the layer of clothing he’s wearing and the tiny dress that nearly clings to your every curve. He can’t wait to impatiently rip you out of it and slip in a “I’ll buy you a new one, princess.”

Your hands find sanctuary in his soft hair. How you missed tugging at their roots when he’d go down on you in bed, on the kitchen counter, and in the shower with your one leg supporting your entire weight as Sunghoon made the other side dangle over his shoulder. Those positions are tempting, and biologically the flashbacks of your sexual activity with the male feed into the expansion of your slick that gradually soils your panties.

You squeeze your thighs together. The pressure of your inner fat is an empty feeling of pleasure that you wish Sunghoon could replace with his tongue, fingers, cock, or all three one at a time. The male notices this cry-for-help and trails his right hand down the sides of your waist. He stops at the lace hemming of the cami dress, bunching the material to provide easy access to your mid-thigh. His fingers dance on your skin, traveling upward ever so slowly in an antagonizing fashion that almost infuriates you for his teasing manner in the heat of the moment.

Sunghoon reluctantly breaks the kiss. The evidence of your already smudged matte lipstick has left a faint trace on his plump tiers. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, mouth ready to latch onto the sensitive area he knows best that will cloud every crevice of your mind with nothing but want and lust. At the end of this night, all that you will know is how to be his obedient cocksleeve like the good girl he’s conditioned you into.

The sound of someone clearing their throat on the opposite end of your apartment’s hallway is akin to a record player scratch. You’re grateful that the construction workers, or whoever built this place, designed the structure of your building to be a certain way so that the split-off point from the elevator wasn’t a simple corridor style where you could see both fire exits at each side. Instead, it was more so a wide V-shape.

In other words, no one really caught you and Sunghoon in semi-public eating one another’s faces.

You stop to share a quiet laugh with Sunghoon and ultimately enter the safe space of your flat, out of your neighbors point of view where they could have had a free, front-row seat to some juicy content. The door closes behind you, you can barely get out of your shoes and make it past the front step leading to your living room when Sunghoon’s haste to have you underneath the sheets with him in your bed has you stumbling backward. He catches you before you can register that you would have fallen onto your ass against the hardwood. His lips serve him well, contributing to the situation as a distraction that redirects your every inner thought bubble.

Sunghoon casually kicks off his shoes, adding them to the haphazard pile alongside yours— the least of his concerns at the moment.

The kiss from outside repeats itself, and this time, Sunghoon can contently resume what he intended to do had another tenant not interrupted the mood. But the voyeurism exploration kink in him would have liked either sequence of events.

His tongue traces a wet stripe up your neck, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. You dully bite down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the whimper that is sanctioned at the back of your throat, trapped by a surge of lust and anticipation. Sunghoon’s mouth ghosts over the shell of your ear, and his hot breath tickles.

“I wanna hear you, baby.” He slurs. “Don’t be shy on me now.”

Sunghoon’s lips sheathe that sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to gasp. Your shoulders tense at the foreign feeling of his mouth on your body, and you’ve forgotten how good it was to receive a hickey. You relax under his touch when he gives the soft fat of your waist a reassuring squeeze.

His canines graze your skin while he sucks on the same patch, switching interchangeably to lap his tongue at the area when he begins to see a blossom of red and purple hues mix together, creating the prettiest bruise that would surely take more than a couple of days to fully heal. You groan when his teeth apply the right amount of force onto your flesh, leaving indents in their wake. His perverted mind relishes in the fact that only he is capable of marking you in ways that no other man could ever come close to.

He steps back to fully appreciate his canvas, that is you, and the absolute masterpiece that you are to him.

He leans in, pressing another kiss to your lips, this time with a gentler, more tender spirit, devoid of any sloppy motions. It’s delicate, a striking contrast to the heated lip-locking session the two of you were entranced with just moments ago on the other side of your apartment door. His larger palms cup your face as the pads of his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks, making you feel loved and cared for.

Sunghoon lures your tongue into his mouth, clamping his lips around the muscle. He suckles at it, eliciting the cutest whimpers that he missed hearing from you since you’ve been gone.

“Hnngh… Hah,” you pry yourself off of him, a string of your shared saliva connects the two of your equally moist lips.

Your puffy lips shimmer in the moonlight streaming into your livingroom, as if the moon itself decided to play a starring role tonight. You squeeze his bicep, noticing that the muscle has doubled in size since you last touched it. You peer up at the taller through your eyelashes and Sunghoon has to conceal his primal instincts from fucking your throat with his raging hard-on.

Your fingers graze the fabric of his long-sleeve collar, tracing delicate patterns across the black tie donned around his neck. Something about being able to witness a man up close in a suit never failed to provoke a flood of arousal from overwhelming your erogenous zone. Specifically, Sunghoon. It’s a shame— not really— that it eventually has to come off. With a deft touch, you begin to unravel the four-in-hand knot, a testament to Sunghoon’s meticulous self-preparation. The silk unravels, revealing its intricate texture beneath your fingertips.

You assist Sunghoon in removing his suit jacket next, observing it gracefully descend to the floor. You briefly wonder why he's so nonchalant about leaving such an expensive garment on the ground, but he dismisses your concern with a wave of his hand. After all, as a chairman, he has the means and privilege to easily replace such clothing items.

You decide that it’s your turn to take the lead for once and initiate another heated session of sultry lip service. Your mouth kisses Sunghoon’s with primal hunger. Teeth clash, and you see no remorse for your hostility sponsored by pent-up sexual frustration and longing for some sort of relief that only Sunghoon can render.

In a poor attempt to unbutton the last layer of clothing that shields Sunghoon’s upper half, your fingers fumble with the small disks that are fastened by the slits. You whine frustratedly against his lips once you realize you’re not making much progress. It is incredibly hard to multitask when your tongue is being manhandled by his.

“Here, lemme do it.“ Sunghoon mutters in a low growl.

He tears open the placket just like he would to a bag of chips, and the buttons you were struggling to relieve him of pop off in ease, taunting you for your lack of efficiency at getting him out of his attire. He wriggles his arms free from the restraints of his sleeves and shrugs the apparel from the summit of his shoulders, allowing the ruined piece to join his suit jacket on the floor.

“Your turn, babe.”

He twirls you around, your back fully pressed against his front as the tent in his pants pokes at your globes. The thrill of his length nestled between your ass spurs you to grind yourself on him, a staggered exhale of his hot breath fans the curvature of your trapezius, prickling your skin. The cotton material of your underwear cultivates a sticky sensation the longer you stay trapped in it.

“S-shit baby, you’re a fucking tease.” Sunghoon grabs your chin, forcing your head to turn his way so that he can seize your lips in an inconsistent kiss. Alternatively, it’s a tongue duel of him wanting to shove the muscular organ down your throat.

“A-ahh,” You moan helplessly.

He yanks the zipper of your dress. The item peels off of your bust, exposing your bare skin and naked torso simultaneously. You have to wriggle your hips past the remaining fabric in order to fully reveal your bare figure to Sunghoon— besides your damp panties that is.

“No bra today? It’s almost like you were expecting this to happen…” Sunghoon taunts.

“N-no…” You squeak, shaking your head.

“No? Use your words baby.”

You turn to face him, your perky mounds that come into his view are a sight for sore eyes. Even in the dark and scant amount of natural lighting from the celestial object in the night sky, is Sunghoon competent at reading your flustered features. How you manage to be cute yet look so lewd all at once is beyond his comprehension.

“I-I didn’t wear a bra because I thought it’d be easier to go without one.” You mumble, telling the truth.

“That’s better,” Sunghoon coos. He pecks your cheek and you smile at the reward.

“Eeek! S-Sunghoon!” You burst into a fit of shared laughter and giggles when said name scoops you into his arms, your body cradled against his chest, as your legs dangled over his one arm while the other supports your back.

“Just practicing when we’re both walking down the aisle at our future wedding.” Sunghoon jests.

Tenderness fills your eyes when you look up at him. He’s joked about the hypothetical conception of marriage twice in the night that you’re fully convinced it wouldn’t be all that bad of an idea. Given that both of you are ready and first rekindle the status of your relationship, of course.

Sunghoon grins. There’s a gentle kindness to his pearly whites, and you reach up to press a chaste kiss to his jawline.

He relocates to your bedroom. Gently, he lays you down on the bed, your body propped up on your forearms, bearing the weight of your upper half. With an unwavering gaze, you study Sunghoon closely, every detail of his expression and every nuance of his presence.

His eyebrows knit and meet in the middle, fixated on undoing his pants to escape from their restraints, followed by his underwear soon after. His stiff member rebounds off his lower abdomen, precum leaking from the mushroom tip. A satisfied exhale leaves his mouth. He stalks over to you with a sly smirk, towering your smaller frame when he crawls on top of the bed, his knees plant themselves into the mattress and his additional weight dips the space where you lay.

You whine when his length ghosts at the expanse of your inner thigh, suspense and arousal continue to bubble inside of you. Sunghoon murmurs for you to lay back. “Make yourself comfortable,” were his initial instructions before hooking the waistband of your panties with his fingers and dragging them below your legs. The undergarment was tossed to the side.

You nibble at your bottom lip and screw your eyes shut when a slender finger circles the perimeter of your labia.

“You’re so wet babe,” Sunghoon purrs.

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat when he slides his index finger through your inner lips, gathering an abundance of your slick to bring to his mouth for a taste. Both eyes flutter open in time to witness Sunghoon suck at the digit drenched with your arousal. The sight is sinfully lewd, nearly too much for you to handle. Your face reddens and you fight the inclination to hide behind your hands.

“You taste so good, too.“ He licks at his lips. “Wanna try?” Sunghoon cocks his head to the side, and you can’t find it in you to turn down his offer when he looks so innocent— yet acts like the devil himself when he’s overcome with lust. You nod your head with approval.

His duality needs to be studied at Harvard, you think in the back of your mind.

Sunghoon plunges his index finger past your hole, triggering your back to arch an inch off the bed. He chuckles lowly and watches as your hands grab desperately at the sheets beneath you to steady your sanity. The singular digit curls inside of you. Your unforeseen shock is vocalized in the form of a moan and Sunghoon repeats the motion several times.

“O-oh my god—“ You gasp.

The ravenette withdraws his finger and taps at your mouth, signaling you to open. You submit to his implicit dictation. Your lips encase his pointer, tongue swirling around it like a piece of sweet candy you’re tasting for the first time.

You bat your eyelashes prettily and moan. “Mmmh…”

“Dirty girl,” Sunghoon sniggers. He retracts his finger and you let it slip past your mouth with a ‘pop’ sound.

“Can you please give me your cock now?” You plead with a pout, doing your best impression of an endearing set of puppy eyes.

Sunghoon chuckles. “Let me at least prep you first, baby. How long has it been since you’ve had someone’s cock inside of you, anyways?”

You part your lips but close it just as quickly. To be candid, you've never been one to actively immerse yourself in the 'I'm single' scene. Your only foray into it was with Yunjin, roughly three weeks after your split with Sunghoon. The two of you ventured to a club, but it proved to be a brief endeavor. Within two hours, the fifth shot became a catalyst, turning you into an unending fountain of tears.

“Y/n?”

“Huh? Oh. Sorry…”

“I’m sorry baby. Did I overstep your boundaries?” Sunghoon cups your face with his right hand, his eyes scan yours, sincerity and concern laced in those chocolate orbs of his.

You stifle a giggle. Of all boundaries he could have crossed he draws the line at asking for your body count and not him fingering you.

“What? What’s so funny?” He asks.

“Nothing just… I think it’s ironic you ask me that now and not before we did all of this.” You motion to your bare bodies when you say ‘this.’

Sunghoon’s ears redden.

“But don’t worry, Hoonie.” You hook your arms around his neck and pull him closer to pepper his face with several reassuring kisses. “I don’t mind it all. Now can you please fuck my brains out!”

Your ex (whatever he is to you at this point) throws his head back to share a quick laugh, shortly pressing his forehead against yours.

Without warning, he buries three fingers in your pussy; your hips twitch at the sentience. They slide in and out without strain and together the two of you watch as he finger fucks your hole to “prep” for his cock. The squelching noise of your juices fill the room in addition to your moaning, and Sunghoon confronts a hurdle of his patience wearing thin, wanting to fuck you senseless.

His digits leave your hole and you whine immediately at the loss. Sunghoon uses the mass quantity of slick as a substitute for lube to lather on his angry cock. He shuffles against the bed, forcing your legs even further apart to fit himself in between them. The stretch burns your muscles but is soon forgotten when the tip of his length is rubbing your folds, occasionally bumping your swollen clit which generates a needy whine.

Sunghoon’s face screws with ecstasy when his shaft inches past your entrance. Your walls hug his length and he whimpers at the tight muscles that suffocate his erection. You squirm under him, tensed and breathing heavily. It’s hard to relax when seven inches feel like it’s splitting you in half after a long hiatus from sex. Sunghoon notices your discomfort and stills his hips from pushing further, allowing you the necessary time to adjust.

“Sorry baby, I know it’s been a while. You can take it, right? Like the good girl you are?”

You nod. He kisses your forehead, cheek, and lips to soothe your anxiety, using his lips as a distraction to keep your mind from zoning in on his cock. He seizes the opportunity to fit the rest of his length inch-by-inch, and you feel like a virgin all over again when the burn of his cock stretching you open is almost too unbearable.

“Sshh, it’ll be alright, baby.” He wipes away a loose tear. “I’m gonna move, tell me when and if it’s too much, okay?”

“O-okay, Hoonie…”

Steadily, Sunghoon recedes his hips, cock following in suit, just enough for the tip to be the only thing that your pussy clenches on. He snaps forward, your boobs jiggle at the motion and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head when he repeatedly thrusts at a steadfast pace. The pain you were once scared of is no longer a fear you have to worry about, as pleasure is the only thing you know how to feel.

“F-faster, harder, p-please Hoon.” You fight through broken moans to let your voice be heard.

“Shit—“ He curses.

Sunghoon’s fingers dig into the plush fat of your waist while his other hand presses into the space of your bed next to the side of your head. His eyebrows knit, focused entirely on increasing the speed of his thrusts. He continues to piston fuck your pussy, abusing your hole in the utmost gratifying procedure. Your thighs jiggle each time that his balls slap against your skin. Everything reminds him of an amateur homemade video he’s seen from other couples perform on Pornhub. He’ll have to ask you some other day if you’d ever be open to filming your own tapes to watch back.

“Mmh, right there, Hoonie.” You sigh dreamily, locking your legs around his waist and linking your ankles together. “You’re fucking me so good— Aah!” A high pitch squeal slips from your vocal box when his tip probes at your G-spot.

“F-fuck,” Sunghoon leans in close, relying only on one forearm to hold himself up from crushing you with his entire weight. He hides his face in your boobs, tongue flicking at the sensitive bud that hardens in response. He persistently thrusts deeper, his cockhead pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Hnngh… Y-yes, yesyesyes!” You chant. Your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp and tugging whenever his mouth would suck or massage at your breasts. “You’re gonna— make me c-cum!“

Sunghoon’s unrelenting despite your warning. He can feel your walls clamping around his shaft, signaling your impending orgasm, and it taunts him to force himself deeper within your warm cavern at every jerk of his hips. Your hands fall to his biceps. Nails digging into his skin as your face distorts into extreme pleasure.

“I’m so close too, baby.” He groans. “Just.” Thrust. “A.” Thrust. “Couple.” Thrust. “M-more!”

“I’m cumming! I’m c-cumming—“ Your hips tremble with a frenzied urgency as your pussy pulsates around Sunghoon’s cock. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp and a long, impassioned moan escapes your lips. The sheer intensity of the moment leaving you incoherent and lost in ecstasy.

Sunghoon twitches inside of you. “Hah— you’re so— fuck!— s-sexy,” He grunts. Your head thrashes at the overstimulation of his length continuously pumping into you and you push at Sunghoon’s chest weakly, crying on his cock for him to slow down. You whine, whimper, plead for mercy so that your pussy can recover from the intense orgasm you just experienced not too long ago. In spite of that, he ignores your pleas and concentrates on finishing. It isn’t until white ropes of cum are shooting at your walls when his thrusts start to get sloppier and progressively come to a stop.

“Fuck.” Sunghoon exhales through gritted teeth. Both of you are a panting mess trying to catch your breaths as your chests rise and fall synchronously. The ravenette pulls out slowly and he groans when he sees his seed spill out of your hole, it closely reminds him of those hentai comics he’s read through illegal websites.

“I’ll get something to help clean you up.” Sunghoon lifts his weight from the bed but you reach for his forearm to grab him. You don’t have to say anything for him to understand that you don’t want him to leave your side. He brings a hand to yours, the pad of his thumb grazing the hills of your knuckles soothingly. “It’ll be fast, I promise.”

Not even 30 seconds has gone by when he re-enters your room with a damp cloth. He wipes at the areas where a mix of your cum and his seed litter your skin with sticky residue. He discards of the ruined cloth before joining you in bed where you welcome him with open arms. He plops down next to you and you turn to lay on your side so that you can get a proper view of his handsome face in post-sex afterglow. You reach out to gently touch his moles that adorn his features. The moles you missed seeing as the first thing in the morning when you’d wake up with him by your side. He grins lazily and cranes his neck to bring his lips to your forehead.

“Sunghoon…?” Your faces are merely inches apart from one another. Though the close proximity is not a foreign situation— especially after just having sex— you speak to him with a hushed tone.

“Yes?” He inquires.

“At the restaurant, you implied that you wanted to get back together again… Is it true? Do you really mean it?” Your lips are quivering and you mentally berate yourself for being so soft hearted in these types of scenarios where emotions are high, vulnerable, and transparency is called upon.

Sunghoon breathes shakily. “I really mean it. I miss you, Y/n.” He tucks away loose strands of hair that fall on your face. “These past two years without you have been hell. The first couple of months were so bad, I almost reconsidered being the chairman for father’s company so I could fight for us. Fight for you. I’m sorry if that part of my life got in our way as a couple, and I wish I had made more of an effort to be around you.”

You sniffle, “It wasn’t just your fault. I should’ve communicated instead of thinking I know better and that I thought what I did was for the greater good— because it wasn’t. And you’re right, the two years I spent without you were awful. I never wanna go through that again.”

Sunghoon loops an arm around your waist and guides your head to bury against his chest.

“We don’t have to.”

Morning rays gently infiltrate the room as Sunghoon stands before the full-length mirror in your shared master bedroom. His voice carries across the space as he greets his loving wife, 'Good morning, Mrs. Park,' while he meticulously adjusts his tie.

You stir in bed. The unwelcome intrusion of sunlight forces you awake despite the supposedly blackout curtains you requested when you first moved in with Sunghoon. You sigh in irritation. Dismissing the hope of another ten minutes of sleep, you push yourself upright, your arms stretching above your head, accompanied by a vibrant yawn. Sunghoon, amused by your morning ritual, chuckles softly.

“Still sleepy?” Your husband turns to face you after successfully finishing the Windsor knot of his tie. You blink away the fog of grogginess from your eyes and grin when you get a clear vision of your husband clad in his usual work uniform.

“Mmm… you’re so handsome.”

Sunghoon's face lights up with a genuine smile, touched by your kind words that always seem to set the perfect tone for his day. He approaches your side of the bed with a confident saunter and takes a seat beside you.

“Any plans for today, my lovely wife?”

You can't help but giggle at his endearing habit of calling you 'wife' and 'Mrs. Park.' It's become a sweet tradition between the two of you, a reminder of your loving bond that has grown since your wedding day. You twist your hand to observe the silver band that ornaments your ring finger. The diamond twinkles back at you in the bask of the light.

“I think Yunjin and I are getting brunch, then we’re going shopping right after, and later in the evening we’re gonna drink some wine and paint as we gossip about our husbands.”

Sunghoon laughs. “You’ve got a busy day ahead of yourself then.” He nudges your side playfully and you giggle. “Don’t forget to fit me into your schedule. Let’s go out for dinner tonight.”

“Cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup?”

“Where it all started.”

You envelop yourself in your husband's embrace, showering him with affectionate kisses. Starting from his moles and moving to both cheeks, his nose, forehead, and, ultimately, his irresistible lips, you express your love and absolute adoration for him with each tender peck.

“I love you, Mr. Park.” You murmur against his plush tiers.

His fingers delicately sweep aside the loose strands of hair obscuring your face, as he lovingly takes in every captivating feature, examining them with deep worship.

“I love you more, Mrs. Park.”

Two years ago you and Sunghoon sealed the knot in California. The ceremony took place at the Alila Ventana wedding venue, perched on a cliff along the rugged coast line of Big Sur. It offered a dramatic landscape, nestled amidst towering redwood trees, and a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean; the perfect picturesque backdrop for photos and videography. The outdoor spaces, gourmet dining, and coastal elegance were truly significant factors of your reception.

Sunghoon kept his promise to Mrs. Kim when the time came to send out the wedding invitations. Her excitement was beyond words as both of you entered the restaurant, radiating a newfound delight. Her gaze immediately fixated on the sparkling diamond ring on your finger— the same one she had scolded him for, which was now complete.

Come time to exchange your vows, Sunghoon's heartfelt declaration to cherish and devote himself to your love made it extremely difficult to keep your makeup in tact. Yunjin, your appointed maid of honor, had to step in to hand you tissues one after the other. The audience laughing to themselves at your showcase of emotions.

True to his words, Sunghoon carried you bridal style as he stalked down the aisle. Your families and friends cheering from their seats, their joyous applause resonating through the air. The warmth of their smiles and the happy tears in their eyes mirrored the love that enveloped you both in that moment.

Since then, life with Sunghoon after marriage was anything but dull.

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lackadaisycats · 2 months

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Why does Fablepaint draw such mean spirited art of Rocky. Is it a personal sense of humor kind of thing? Or does disturbingly mean spirited art the only way for FablePaint to draw this character. Is it possible for some more lighthearted and optimistic stories regarding Rocky to show up anytime soon? I’m not saying this to try to be offensive or aggressive, I just think the world’s depressing enough, why make the fictional world sad as well. I do love the comic, I just wish it was happier.

I don't think Fable's art of Rocky is especially mean-spirited. At least no more so than mine has been. Rocky has always been a character with a knack for getting himself into trouble. I do know that Fable likes Rocky and finds various aspects of Rocky's personality and circumstances pretty relatable. I think a lot of what you're seeing actually comes from a place of affection, and maybe even a little bit of vicarious self-deprecation. I will tell you from my own experiences, this is very common among creators (myself included). A character may not be an intended self-insert of any sort, but you inevitably still end up with bits and pieces of yourself reflected therein. And in many ways, you're also inevitably sorting out some turmoil close to your own heart through the character and the story they inhabit.

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About the broader topic of sad things in fiction... Yeah, the world is harsh, cruel, and unfair even at the best of times, but I don't think art that fully disregards this does much service to anyone. The most fluffy, pastel-colored, marshmallow-mild media will still tend to present us with some conflict, because that's how a story manages to resonate. It's hard to convey something meaningful about human resilience, or abiding love, enduring friendship, confronting inner demons, triumph over injustice, or about the absurdity of living without acknowledging the darkness. Even if you're just writing something to make light of the implacable dark, it must be there for you to laugh at.

I think it's fine to use fiction as a temporary retreat from your own real life concerns. And I think it's fine to have comfort characters who you turn to when you need some uplifting. There are a lot of really sweet and lovely fan-works featuring Rocky out there that are much gentler with him than Fable or I will be. You can stick with those! That's okay! But canonically, he's part of a story about a tumultuous time in history, and a tumultuous time in his own troubled life. He's a flawed character surrounded by other flawed characters. He's willfully taken on the role of a violent criminal, in fact. And though I don't think the story of Lackadaisy is without happy, silly, lighthearted aspects, it's not only that. I can't change that without undoing everything I've been working toward. I hope that's understandable.

#lackadaisy #lackadaisycats #q&a

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sordidmusings · 6 months

Text

Tender Love and Care - Massage 1/3 (Buggy x Reader)

Art by Capitanpoops!

A/N: More love for our beloved fool! This one with a dash of idiots in love and a heaping scoop of yearning. The next half of this installment is mostly done as wel,l but I needed to get this out and I think it'll be digested better in these chunks. Gotta pace yourself on the clown content (Do as I say and not as I do 💀) I trimmed it down to the necessary events and the important (read: indulgent) interactions with Buggy and she still somehow got long whoopsy

Word Count: ~4.4k

Warnings: afab!reader (no pronouns or gendered terms), brief suggestive allusions, reader is oblivious and Buggy is delusional, Buggy continues his inner married life fantasy world, you feed him tangerines and he’s kind of a freak about it 💀

<-Prev Next->

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

You weren’t there.

Why weren’t you there?

Buggy found himself alone in sheets, which barely held the remnants of body heat. Your body heat; the only proof you left behind of your night together. Or was he imagining it? Wishing it into existence so hard that his brain took pity on him and let him feel warmth that wasn't truly there. He turned his face further into the hammock, deeper into the bedding, seeking more pieces of you. All he was able to get was some of your elegant smell from a lukewarm pillow and it ached. It ached that he was here begging for scraps of you and all he got were vestiges of your presence.

He tried to comfort himself with the memory of your cheek on his head and your hands in his hair and your skin under his lips. That sweet, blissful second of contact only made his chest feel tighter wherever it was leagues away. It may as well have joined him, burrowed in your hammock, with how potent the sensation felt. He felt bitter that you would be so kind and then leave him as an afterthought. Was it a trick after all? Buggy found himself switching back and forth between distrusting your intentions and accepting them as genuine. It would've taken a pro for all of that to be an act, but then again he didn’t really know you. You could’ve had a history in intel gathering. Or honeypotting. On top of that, what reason could you have to treat him so tenderly? Not only was he an enemy of your crew, he was already assisting you all. Beyond even that, you were, well, you.

Buggy hadn’t had much time to watch you in Orange Town, as he had simply put you away with the other two for Cabaji to handle. Now that he was diminished to a head, though, the only thing he could do was watch. And talk. He made sure to do both in abundance, half for boredom and half to piss off your crewmates. He especially liked messing with the skittish one.

You, however, he would mostly watch. Yeah, he couldn’t keep his big trap shut, but it was more to fill silence if he felt uncomfortable or to prod you mildly to test your reaction and learn more about you. He had learned a lot. Your interests were broad but not without depth, and they spanned so many disconnected topics that it spoke to an inherent love of learning and engaging. You liked to play back with those around you, making them feel included. You were kind; understanding and nurturing were clearly in your nature with how you’d tend to others. You always noticed and cared for the details of a person - how they embody their feelings, how they like to be cared for, pieces of their tasks that could be eased, habits that kept them from caring for themselves, any act or item that made them smile. He saw it as so diametrically opposed to the destructive path he left behind him. Why would you bother yourself with tending to him and his messes?

His thoughts made the physical distance between you two feel even greater. Buggy allowed himself the comfort of snuggling fully into your pillow and breathing deep the scent of vanilla and spice from the cushion and his wild hair. He had begun to slip back into sleep when gentle fingers brushed his hair back across his temple, pulling a small gasp from him.

“Bugs?” you whispered, checking if he was awake or needed more prompting. You caught his eye and were distracted by the way his lashes brushed your pillowcase with each blink.

“Oh so you decided to come back,” Buggy grumbled into the bedding.

“Of course I did,” you soothed. You didn’t want him to start out the day on a bad note, but you had duties to take care of around the ship. “I wanted to let you get some rest. I doubt you were able to get much in a sack or a barrel.”

Buggy took in the way you grimaced at the thought and some of the ache in his chest lessened. You helped him turn over before placing your hands on his cheeks. Finally, the warmth on his skin was fresh.

“C’mon, let’s get you some breakfast,” you chirped. Buggy didn’t care if he imagined how fond the shine in your eyes was.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“You just had to poke the bear huh?” you admonished. You nudged the door to Nojiko’s hut closed with your foot and looked down at Buggy’s face in your hands. You didn’t think you’d be seeing him gagged and glaring again, especially so soon. At least this time he was more angry at the situation than being purely upset with you. Meeting his eyes with a sympathetic smile, you settled the both of you to sit on the edge of the deck.

“Can’t say I blame you, though,” you said, pulling the tangerine out of Buggy’s mouth, placing it higher on your legs than where he rested. He chased it with some choice curses and moved his jaw around to rid himself of the stretched discomfort. You helped him by rubbing your thumbs into the muscles above the sharp angle of his jaw. With each circling motion, some of his bitterness followed the tension out of his face. “They barely let me give you anything for breakfast, no lunch, and now you can’t have dinner? I dont…” you trailed off, looking for the right words. Coming up short you sighed and finished, “I don’t like it.”

“Join the club,” Buggy spat.

Your eyes fell to your hands, which now fiddled with the tangerine. “Well, we do have a little food.”

“I guess it’s better than nothing,” he relented, and you began peeling. While he mostly just looked grumpy, there was a despondency in the glaze of his eyes and the twitch of his lip. Your heart ached for him despite the fact that you knew at least some of this was his own doing. It was definitely his own mistakes that led his path to being held captive and at the whims of others, but you were really stuck on things like the lack of food. You decided you were probably too soft for piracy with the way his head being thrown around made you wince. Maybe you’d have to find out how to be a different kind of pirate. Like Luffy. A smile began to soften your face at the comfort that idea brought you. It felt right.

Meanwhile, Buggy’s mood was sullen at best, fueled by his distant howling stomach. The pretty smile decorating your face, however, began distracting him enough to start calming down. Focusing on how beautiful you looked, wearing a tender smile in the moonlight, he began to feel distant from you. You looked natural - like you belonged right here amongst quiet air, sleeping sky, and things that grow. He was a naturally disruptive force; he belonged here as an observer, an audience member, and not a part of the scene.

Buggy was broken from his musings when you offered him a piece of tangerine. He truly did wish for something more substantial, but he couldn’t deny that at the first bite all other thoughts stopped except the pungent flavor refreshing him. On the second, he nearly took your finger off when he lunged for more.

“Easy, easy,” you soothed, “I can always pick another one.”

He didn’t apologize but he did take the next few pieces more delicately. You’d give the segments to him in two bites so that it would draw the process out and hopefully make him feel a bit more sated. The next time he bit into a piece of tangerine, the juice burst back onto your fingers. After pushing the other half into his mouth, you brought your hand up to your mouth and sucked off the juice. The refreshingly bright flavor distracted you from the way Buggy stared at the action. You presented him with another slice, which he bit hard to make sure it would splash again. He wanted a repeat showing.

“You’re so messy,” you chastised. Again, your fingers were cleaned by lips and tongue. Again, Buggy was absolutely enraptured. Again, you did not notice.

This time when you fed him a piece, you put the whole thing in his mouth to avoid splashing. A new problem replaced the old one; Buggy’s lips closed against the tips of your fingers. Those fingers felt so soft on his lips and he promised himself to move slowly next time. Your mind kicked into gear when the way his lips pressed at you felt more like a caress - like a kiss - than an accidental brush. Your eyes snapped to his face to see what he was thinking, but his eyes were closed and his face relaxed and gave you absolutely nothing to go on. You wrote it off as taking time to savor fresh food after having been mostly starved and fed scraps. Even so, your hand was more hesitant this time.

Buggy kept his eyes closed and opened his mouth at the feeling of tangerine prodding his lips. It only made it halfway into his mouth this time. He chomped down creating a spray. You huffed but he didn’t care when the second half was given to him and he pushed forward to take it all and to taste the juice on your fingertips. He didn’t linger for fear of rejection but he couldn’t deny himself the chance to lick juice from your skin. Your fingers were soft and the tangerine was sweet and he was giddy that you’d shared a transferred kiss.

You had a lot more trouble explaining away the swipe of his tongue than the purse of his lips. The urge to ask him what the hell he was doing almost overcame you, but you were stopped by how peaceful he looked. You didn’t want to take that from him. Besides, the touch didn’t bother you. It was quite the opposite actually; you were immediately addicted to the buzzing sensation it shot from your fingertips through to your chest and stomach, where it stayed to flutter.

Buggy didn’t venture to be so bold through the remainder of the fruit, though your fingers received an almost-kiss with each piece. Your yearning to feel his lips with your own grew each time, pressing at your heart until each beat kicked back strongly. You take a handkerchief from your back pocket to wipe your hands and dab at his lips. Buggy was placid through the whole thing. You wanted to bask in that a bit longer, so you tried to think up a reason to stay outside. Placing your hands on the sides of his face with care, you tilted his face up to look directly at you.

“I wanna stay out in the fresh air; the hut’s still hot from cooking. Wanna stay with?” you asked. Buggy didn’t respond. Instead, he was eyeing you like you’d asked a trick question. “Of course you could always go back to the bag.”

“Out here.” That was much quicker.

“Good!” You were already placing him to the side to stand up and set up. You grabbed a cushion from a chair on the porch and placed it on the large rim in front of the porch’s support beam. After carefully picking Buggy back up, you settled into the surprisingly comfortable cushion and leaned back on the beam. Buggy was placed in your lap, tilted and facing out so that he could take in the bucolic scene with you. Neither of you spoke for the remainder of the night, even when you settled in for bed. It felt unnecessary to say anything to add to the atmosphere that had fallen around the two of you. There was more than enough filling it between the patterns of endless stars, moonlight on waxy leaves, and crisp breeze over earthen ground. The main reason for the silence, though, was that you already felt connected from the way that your body warmed the back of his head, the way his weight settled in your lap, and the way your fingers never stopped stroking his jaw, cheeks, and temple.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

The whole Arlong thing was going to shit. You were separated out with Usopp, trying desperately to get back to your crew and help with any remaining fishmen. Each pounding stride sent vibrations up your legs, rattling your bones and joints. Your ragged breaths and pumping arms helped carry you further from the smoldering corpse and closer to more enemy bodies, these ones still able to snap their teeth at you. You could distantly recognize that you were afraid, but there was no room for it to exist inside you with your heart pumping in every spec of your body.

Breaking your tunnel vision was a call of your name from behind you.

It echoed through your body and made you freeze because you knew that voice. In front of you, Usopp was staring confused over your shoulder. You were too nervous to turn and look with him. Your every muscle was gripped tight with indecision. His eyes moved to meet your wild look and the scrunch of his brow asked the question.

“Tell everyone thank you and I’m sorry.” The words were simple but the quaver in your voice carried all the meaning you had no time to speak out.

You wrenched yourself around, not even waiting to see Usopp’s nod, and began sprinting away from the weight of your decision.

Buggy’s heart was in his throat. At first it was fear that had it jackhammering, but then you turned and happy disbelief kept it pumping. Holy shit, you’re really running to him - literally running to him - hitting him like a freight train and yanking him with you. Even though he had watched you for every second of your charge toward him, it was a surprise when you got to him, so much so that when you grabbed him, he separated from the waist up. His legs had to rev like a wind-up toy to try and catch up. Your hand fisting tight around his wrist was edging on painful but he loved it because it was real and you were real and you really chose him.

~ ~ ~••• ✦✦✦•••~ ~ ~

When you close yourselves off in the inn room you feel like you can relax for the first time in a long while. There’s warm food in your bellies and a roof over your heads. The room was a fair price and any of the shabby touches just added to the charm. It felt like being tucked into the guest room of a distant relative; there was an air of home even though you knew none of the stories this place has seen. While you were taking your time to look around the room, Buggy made a beeline for the bed and toppled onto it with a theatrical groan. You gave him a minute to breathe before you decided to touch base on the run in at dinner.

“She’s definitely trying to use us,” you cautioned.

“Well the feeling’s mutual,” Buggy responded, slowly getting himself upright. You snorted.

“I guess you’re right. Just gotta keep on our toes; there’s been enough bullshit recently,” you said, plopping next to him on the bed. He ate up the way your arm pressed into his. He sat stone still, hoping that if he didn’t move then you’d never realize you were touching him and move away. Fuck, having his body back was euphoric with how he got to experience more of you and your touch, but it was also overwhelming. Normally, he’d have no trouble asserting himself or stealing into someone's personal space but this felt so different. Every move closer to you felt like crossing an ancient rope and plank bridge; he was swaying and unsteady and every new piece of wood may give to let him plunge away into a rabid river, far away from the safety at the other side. You felt how he froze up like a rabbit before a wolf and worried you’d said something wrong.

“I’ll keep like the daintiest of my dancers, Toni Twinkle-Toes,” he promised, trying to appear normal by giving you a cheeky look.

“Oh yeah,” you laughed. “Better swap out your clunky ass boots for some slippers.” You nudged his boot with your own and kept your leg pressed tight to his. You were proud of yourself for finding a casual way to feel more of him.

“Got any on hand?” he asked after pausing just a touch too long.

“Nah, left my ballet get up on the ship.” You waved a hand to gesture at the bag you’d overstuffed between your run from Usopp and escape from Conomi Island. It was easy to convince your companion to go with you to gather your things. It was much harder to convince him that, no, you would not help him steal the whole ship.

“That's too bad,” he sighed. “I would’ve loved to see you in a tiny leotard, sweetcheeks.”

Buggy happily received your shove, though he still fell to his side, holding it like you’d broken him. Through laughter you said, “Well when you get me one, you better make sure it’s over the top and flashy.”

Oh no, he’s a goner.

You stand up and walk to your bag, missing the love-struck look set on you. A shame, really, because those eyes you loved so much had never looked shinier or softer.

“Okay, so since we’re sharing a bed, your ass is taking a bath.” Way to ruin the moment for him.

“But I’m tired and want to sleep,” he whined. A few moments passed where he fully registered your words and had to reboot. He popped back up to sit straight and rushed out, “We’re sharing a bed?”

His eagerness absolutely melted you and you turned to look at him with affectionate eyes. It felt nice to have someone so excited to be near you. You felt valuable. “Yes, we’ve done it before.”

“But I was just a head,” he pressed. You raised a brow.

“I mean we can figure something out if you don’t want to.”

Fuck, no, back track! Back track!

“It’s fine,” Buggy said, a little too loudly. “I mean - I don’t care. Well, it doesn’t bother me.” He took a breath and tried again, while you tried to stifle your laughter. “Since you want to be in my bed so bad, you’re more than welcome to it, toots.”

“How sweet,” you cooed sarcastically. Your walk over to him had a predatory sway. He stayed enraptured as you grabbed his scarf and leaned in close to his face. He shivered as the material pulled gently at the back of his neck. His rounded eyes did their best to take in every fleck of color in your own. “After you take a bath.” You let him go quickly and moved back to finish gathering your things.

“Fine,” Buggy groaned. He felt much too flustered so he compulsively added one more joke. “Sure is one way to get me naked.” He waggled his brows and winked when you gave him an unimpressed look. You wouldn’t let him see how much the thought got to you. The image of him spread out in a tub, skin pink through the steam and long hair sweeping down his shoulders to cling to his chest then float lazily in the water, had you blushing. You imagined him opening droopy eyes, darkened by those pretty lashes, to invite you in with a reaching hand and a devilish smirk. You had to make that a reality. But for now, whatever was happening between you two was too new and unstable.

“I’m sorry to say your nudity will be between you and the room; I’ve bartered with Alvida to use her room’s tub tonight,” you explained.

Buggy was torn evenly between relief and disappointment. On the one hand, he was hurt from what felt like a polite rejection, but on the other, he had more time to prepare before he tried presenting himself to you. When you see more of him, he wants to look his absolute best. He wanted to stand up to your looks and prove he was worth looking at. He needed you to feel he was worth touching and especially holding. He desperately needed it to be perfect so that if anyone was making a fool of themselves with nervousness and desire it would be you.

He refocused himself by continuing your banter. “Oh, sweets, what’d that cost ya?”

“A future favor to hold over my head,” you answered. A grimace tugged at your lips for a moment at the memory of Alvida’s predatory smile at the terms.

He let out a low whistle. “Sure is a high price for a tub.”

“You have no idea how desperate I am for a soak,” you moaned in a way that sounded exhausted to you but sinful to Buggy. You needed to get away from him before he said or did something stupid.

“Then go already and be quick; we paid for a nice bed and I’m getting my money’s worth,” he said, flicking his hands to shoo you. With a roll of your eyes, a shakedown of your bag, and a sarcastic salute, you left the room to give yourself the scrub down of a lifetime (and then that relaxation soak for your aching bones - Buggy will survive some waiting).

A very small piece of Buggy wished that he had asked you to share the tub, but a very large part of Buggy was a chicken. Besides, he wanted to see you on the ‘after’ side of clean; not ‘before’. He gathered his supplies, mostly shaved and siphoned from yours, while the tub filled. After the water reached high enough, Buggy stared at it with a sour frown. He was monologuing to himself about the tedious endeavor you’ve trapped him in, only to change his mind the moment he settled into the bath. Though he’d never admit it to you, the relief he felt at the warm water loosening him and washing the stale feeling off of his skin made the effort and delay of a bath well worth it. Before he moved to start however, Buggy closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling and release his imagination.

His mind was kind and supplied him with images of you sitting beside the tub, preparing your tools and tinctures to take care of him. The smile he gave you was the one he admired on the tangerine night, and even though it was conjured by his own mind, it made his heart stutter. He made his plight worse when he imagined overflowing love in your eyes and sweet words on your tongue. You were helping him after a long day at sea - no, no, after a successful raid for treasure. You sang his praises and called him things like “sweetheart” and “my love”. Your body was dripping with the priceless gems and precious metals that he’d placed on you the moment he had gotten back to his cabin, and he told you you looked like a queen. You blushed and smiled and hugged and kissed and pulled him over to the tub to show your gratitude with loving service.

The fact that he was able to use your shampoo and conditioner again made the illusion better but his fingers were no match for yours. They pulled no sighs nor tingles from him. They didn’t ease him into liquid contentment. Even though he was able to mostly replicate the soothing and intentional way you had worked the products into his scalp, he gave up the effort quickly. It wouldn’t feel nearly as good because it wasn’t you doing it. He instead set about going through the process as quickly as possible.

Buggy had hoped that moving on to washing his body would give him a reprieve from his yearning, but it simply continued on. Each swipe of the soaped cloth across his skin has him daydreaming of your hand behind it instead. He wondered what bliss you would be able to bring his aching muscles if he had turned to putty after only a scalp massage. He wondered what details you would notice and add to like you had when washing his hair. Which surfaces would you soften? Which senses would you guide? Which hidden knots would you free him of? Which pieces of himself would you have him learning new joys from?

He wrenched himself back into the present, realizing he had stood still in his thoughts for much too long. Setting back to his work, Buggy gave himself a painstakingly thorough washing and rinsing, finishing it off with a long brushing of his teeth. He felt very ridiculous going about the whole process, but the thought of being so close to you and having or doing anything that disgusts you. He’s positive it would crush him.

That very feeling had him washing every spec of sand, dirt, sweat, and makeup off of his face so he could build the whole look back up fresh. He gave his past self one drop of gratitude for keeping makeup in his coat. Though it was usually for touch-ups, there was plenty to make almost any of his looks. He was meticulous with his application, especially around his eyes. There was not a line or lash or spec of glitter out of place. He kept to the same crossbones and blue diamonds you had first seen him in, hoping that they’d continue to keep your attention. He remembered that you noticed his eyes only second to his hair, so he darkened the smudged liner around them in hopes you would stare longer.

Next, the wild red smile was painted across his face. It made him feel more comfortable, like his nose stood out less, but something was missing. Buggy stared too long at his reflection, picking at every detail until all of it was ugly and distorted and unfixable. With a sigh, he settled on blending his painted smile to be a deeper blood red at his lips and turned away from the mirror. Though he was saved from seeing himself any longer, he didn’t feel any better. That was precisely when you knocked on the bedroom door.

~ ~ ~••• ✦✦✦•••~ ~ ~

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Taglist: @fanaticsnail @youreinthewind @snippychicke

#buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #opla buggy x reader #opla x reader #buggy the clown #one piece #opla buggy #afab reader #one piece x reader #opla #my writing #x reader

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txttletale · 28 days

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You've helped expose me to a lot of theory that I hadn't read before, and I'm realizing i need to read more theory for real, like. Actually. That being said; The more I start to lean into communist thoughts and not just anti capitalist, I find myself becoming warped and joyless. How does it not take a tole on you? The constant reminder of the endless suffering of the oppressed? How do I enjoy art when I am forced to see all of it as a coerced product, suffering for my entertainment? The constant guilt of life is something I dont think I can stomach at all times. Am i supposed too? (BTW; I mean this more so as an ask of how you do it, not to argue that because suffering is hard to look at we should actually just go back to the status quo and ignore it. I'm just like. Not sure how to deal with it, I guess.)

i don't really feel guilty about anything so i don't know how much i can help. i guess i just think that using communism as like a lense to judge your own individual morality as many people like to do is bound to make you miserable to no real avail. that's not the purpose of communist theory, the point of communist theory is to analyze society and history and guide mass-scale poltical action, not tell you if you're evil for watching the new star wars or whatevsies.

i guess i also personally find that reading socialist history and the more practical, grounded-in-praxis types of theory is liberatory and fills me with optimisim--reading about, e.g., social systems in cuba or people's democracy in the early soviet union is helpful in dispelling the 'oh, everything's going to be horrible forever, socialism is just a utopian pipe dream' insinct that i think liberal hegemony instills in most people, by showing how people took actual sensible pragmatic steps to introduce things like workplace democracy, universal healthcare, women's equality, mass literacy, etc. post-revolution. it helps you understand that communism is not a magic wizard who will come and save us all but yknow something that is doable and achievable by human beings.

#ask

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mokkkki · 6 months

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the way you write is so beautiful... tips for somebody new to writing who wants to write like you?

YOU are so beautiful, thank you so much! im not sure about any tips i have, but ill give it a shot. these are what i personally believe to have been the most important things:

find your wavelength my writing became a lot more stylized and personalized after i found an author that i resonated with, as well as a couple of themes. it just helps to know what you are actually interested in writing in, versus what you think other people would like to read. im personally interested in writing about relationships and dynamics, so my writing will always be more character than action driven. also, it helps, because youre always going to end up writing what you want to write, even in the smallest of ways, so why not embrace it fully? write what you want to read. otherwise, you wont have fun. and writing is SO MUCH FUN. knowing what youre into and what youre trying to channel gives you a really strong basis for all of your writing - not only will it take time for you to find your wavelength, meaning that youll have to expose yourself to many different genres and authors, which is a must, youll always be able to look back at that ONE creative piece and grab some motivation from it.

expose and explore creativity is everywhere - tv shows, movies, books, fanfics, comics, art, architecture, history (!!!), mythology, sports, reality - literally everywhere you can think of. dont wait for inspiration because its everywhere if you look hard enough. familiarize yourself with the seven basic plots, the thirty-six dramatic situations, basic foreshadowing elements, and other essentials. this isnt something to study or memorize, just to KNOW - its good to be aware of the foundations of literature.

embrace the brainrot and maintain a balance become obsessed w your own ocs, your own plots, your own everything. be your own biggest fan. to enter an abusive relationship with your own work is extremely upsetting, because youre doing wrong by the wonderful world youve made, and doing wrong by that part of you that just wants to be creative, too - and if that happens, its probably because you arent writing what you want to write, or controlling what doesnt want to be controlled. let your characters be individuals, let them go where they want to go, just follow and note what theyre doing. sometimes writing is a passive activity rather than active creation, and thats okay! thats when you know youve built a solid world that can run by itself and you just contribute to. that being said, while theres nothing quite like the hours spent ravenously typing, you need to find a balance. you are as important as your work, because without you, the work wouldnt exist. i also reccomend forcing yourself NOT to write on specific days. some ideas need to marinate, and some people need to rest.

i hope this was helpful <;3 if you ever need more help (and this also applies to those reading), feel free to reach out! im open to being a beta reader or just a brainstorming partner. lots of love!

#writing tips #ask

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pillarsalt · 2 months

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hi um

I was? transmasc but recently I’ve been seeing a lot of really misogynistic sexist transphobic stuff from trans community and it’s just been totally accepted, even by other transmascs. It’s been going on for a while but recently there was a murder of a nonbinary afab person and yet the whole trans community here has been silent, instead screaming about a transfem user being banned or something? This isn’t the first time an afab trans persons suffering has been dismissed, but now right after this awful death, i see transfems making posts about how transmascs talking about their oppression are terfs.

I didn’t want to think about it but all i could think about was that it was weird how despite everyone claiming trans men have all this privilege, trans women always come first…they get the most representation, they get the fame the admiration and the opportunities, their voices are always the loudest and their problems always always come first no matter what.

But despite popular belief trans men’s issues aren’t actually less significant, in some cases we suffer far more than trans women especially in regard to sexual violence. Yet we are silenced. We are frequently left poor, we are discriminated against for our sex we are discriminated against for being trans we are discriminated against for being perceived as lesbians. Yet we are made to be silent?

Why are our voices less important than trans women’s?

And all I could think about was that this is how females are treated in every other area.

I don’t know what else to say… I tried so hard not to reach that conclusion because I don’t want to be transmysogynist but I kept coming back to it and I couldn’t find an argument against it. This is how females are treated. This is what male privilege look like. And if trans women have male privilege, then why the fuck am I sitting here letting them talk over me?

I just feel really really angry. Your a blog who I liked your art but I blocked you when I discovered you were a radfem, but I sort of had you in the back of my mind for some reason and now I feel lost and confused, and I don’t think I want to be part of the trans community anymore.

Hey anon, firstly I really appreciate your willingness to have an open discussion with me. This must be weighing on you pretty heavily.

Secondly, holy shit, you're right. While the entire website is treating this user's ban as a national travesty, I haven't seen a single person talking about Nex's murder despite how much they claim to care about trans people. That's really fucking low, and this situation does very much encapsulate the state of misogyny within the trans community.

And you're right, this IS how females are treated in every other area. Throughout history, the suffering and injustice women face is minimized, laughed at, ignored, and when we want to talk about it, we're shut down and told we're making people uncomfortable and our pain isn't that bad. And here we are again, with a female person's death outweighed by a male person's inconvenience.

The denial of sex-based oppression that permeates trans spaces is a blatant lie that can only be held together if nobody is allowed to acknowledge it, and those who do are punished. If the trans community truly stood behind what they say, discussion would be encouraged! The foundation of their movement would be backed up with facts and replicable science! But instead, they'll call you a bigot for pointing out systems of oppression you can see with your own eyes. Because if you do, transwomen's position as Most Oppressed, and therefore the final authority on what's right and wrong, collapses. You are correct when you say that it seems like transwomen always come first; I don't remember who said it first, but just look at magazine covers featuring trans people -- the transwomen are fully clothed CEOs, athletes, movie stars, but transmen mostly get on magazine covers for... being pregnant and half naked. Misogyny is built into every society on earth, and individuals simply calling themselves something else doesn't change that. And when you give male people free reign to be as misogynistic as they want without consequence, they'll grab that opportunity and hold on like their lives depend on it. The way they weaponize transmen's sex against them is indistinguishable from what 'cis' men do to 'cis' women, but if you ever speak out about it, somehow YOU'RE the one hurting THEM. They do not want transmascs to find solidarity with other female people, because then they would have to face the reality of their own place in a patriarchal world, and face the fact that there are experiences exclusive to female people and that we have the right to speak about it. I mean you see shit like this and the motives become completely transparent:

I do find it funny how hard the trans community and their allies work to prevent anyone from hearing what radfems have to say in case they "corrupt" you with mere words. A lot of the time, it's simply listening to transwomen themselves that sparks the feeling of "something's not right here" in your brain. That's what happened with me too. I'll tell you that most of us also used to be proponents of trans activism, many formerly identifying as trans too. You are seeing through manipulation, and I know it's quite shocking to realize. Even when I first started having doubts about trans rhetoric, I thought "well everyone else agrees about this, so I need to shut up and be nice about it even if I don't agree." It's an unpleasant place to be in. The cognitive dissonance is exhausting though, and it becomes impossible to ignore.

The mistreatment of transmasc people in the trans community by transfems is brutal, and It's hard to watch from the outside because I just want to say "Hey, you know you don't have to take this shit, right?" And you really don't. You are not at all a bad person for recognizing the frankly absurd amount of misogyny in the trans community. Feeling lost and confused is shitty, but it's normal for this situation. The best thing you can do is keep observing, keep reading, form your own opinions, and never let anyone tell you to shut up. Above all, prioritize yourself and your mental wellbeing. If you need to remove yourself from gender-related spaces and discussion for a while, that's totally alright. Just know you're not evil or a bigot for not blindly agreeing with everything the trans community has told you. Your opinions and experiences are worthwhile too.

#also i'm glad you like my art :) thank you #ask

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neptunes-sol-angel · 9 months

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Another pick a card...but make it cunt 😆 im lowkey cringing with myself, but I don't care, I loved this idea and this aesthetic. I've always been a cherry cola kind of gal.

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Pile One

You serve cunt in a classy way. Elegance is your niche, beauty and brains IS your motif. There's magic behind your allure that's very old fashioned, an era that's been mimicked by so many, but only truly reincarnated by fewer individuals. It's so nostalgic, and reminds me of this longing that's present in each generation. "I miss the 90s", "There's hardly any superstars in Hollywood anymore", "Where's the talent?", "Video Vixens of today are lacking sex appeal". Aesthetics and "vibes" are easy to wear as a costume, but will always fall short as if something is missing. You have something that isn't ephemeral and can't be cloned because it isn't studied by the naked eye, but is definitely hard to not notice. It's derived from your authenticity, and is most adored by when you're in your element. I'm getting that one of your talents involve visuals, if you're the model when it comes to art, people love your sense of style and the way that you walk, if you're the creator, whether it's digital or concrete, the people love how your creations are like air, it isn't try hard, it doesn't demand to be seen, it's a force to be reckoned naturally. Maybe you guys are enthusiasts, and are the audience that admires the art, but just because of your passion, you generate a following that's interested in how you see things and what you have to say. This could definitely be a pile for cinephiles, anime cosplayers, or even beauty influencers. Continue using your voice, serving cunt is when speak your mind. You're able to strike a nerve in people without being vulgar. Both your stance on things and tone are profound. People are intimidated by your intellect, eloquence, self-efficacy, and mental independence. I'm seeing archivists in this pile, people that are very protective over cultural traditions, history, but also protective over themselves. Even if you're still learning how to set boundaries in a healthy way with others, you demonstrate a lot of vigor by making the first step, which is knowing what's beneath your worth. Your physical attraction is lethal because you create your own category of appeal, what's preventing you from weilding it to its full potential is seeing it for yourself, without needing another person or social construct to point it out for you. Maybe some of you are trying to get out of the grass is greener on the other side mindset when it comes attracting what you want. If it's love in all aspects, recognition, self-worth, manifestation, or just confidence to interact with others as who you are, this relates to your femininity, a misconception that your feminine energy has to be soft, dark, hyper, or even concealed. For some of you, you could have had a rough upbringing, where although you unfortunatelt had to withstand pressure, it turned you into a diamond. Especially if you're ethnic, and resonate with being a historian, scrutiny over your physical and cultural differences, could have taught you to really value yourself, not feel guilty for defending yourself, and recognize how special you really are.

Pile Two

You're approaching a special glow up and it's definitely going to be something "cunty" that'll have some people upset. I don't even see this as a villain era, but more so something very personal. I feel like this pile has dealt with a lot of situations with people cornering you into making you doubt yourself or just outright trying to sabotage your spirit that could convince you out of opportunities that are divinely meant for you. Even though it says a lot about what you're capable of, if people have to kick you down when you're low or can't take you down by themselves, it takes a powerful person to stand up for themselves ten toes down against intimidation. You're going to achieve a milestone that's going to be very important to you but also a big deal to others as well, especially your haters. People that underestimated your might, are going to have to witness these rewards that you've worked so hard for, and it isn't even the peak of blessings that your endurance will reap. You serve cunt, by getting stuff done, accessorizing initiative with your charm, having a lot of endurance and scorching optimism amongst being met with cold situations like betrayal, failure, and people that aren't kind. You serve cunt with your quirks, creativity, and self-awareness, you're like this fountain that doesn't stop pouring when it comes to your capacity to grow and hone your gifts. You serve cunt with the way you keep fighting for your wishes and your stability. Even if it's not on some woo-woo abracadabra shit, you serve cunt in a "witchy" way. You guys are alchemizers, you make peace with your darkness by letting it transform you for the better. You're not afraid to show your scars, your sensitivities, your imperfections, or your mistakes, or your shadow. You wear them like a Picasso painting, abstract, thought-provoking, inspiring, mesmerizing. The way that you serve cunt is only a weapon to those who feel inadequate compared to your range. You could attract a lot of envy, people who feel personally feel like what you're blessed with should be given to them, but this is petty energy, hence why it never prevails against you. It could sting, but it never keeps you down. You could have a strong spiritual team that's protective over you, but part of your protection also comes from understanding that you DO have teasurable qualities that'll bring you success one day. You serve cunt, by the way you empower yourself instead of blaming others for hiccups in your life, you take control by knowing that no amount of evil eye, tower moments, or swords in your back can ruin or take away your abundance, that energy can't be destroyed, it can only be blocked by you, continue to keep your motivation high and always recognize when you're getting in your own way. The magic just doesn't stop, it starts with you and how you create your life by how you apply your actions in your present reality. Keep chasing after what you want, because it's out there, seeking for you too.

Pile Three

"I don't chase—I attract" but make it cunt. The burst of energy in this pile is both chaotic but ironically contained at the same time? It's like how a cat always lands on its feet. The universe LOVES you, and you know it, I'm getting major princess treatment vibes in this pile, but it's not something that you take for granted nor is your life just completely sunshine and rainbows. The struggles that weigh on your shoulders, you carry them well, and you always manage to give others a smile or just the things that you say will make their day or change their way of thinking about life. People admire your confidence, they love your humor, some people just want to BE you entirely because of how other individuals and opportunities just seem to gravitate towards you. People in general just deem you as someone's who is lucky. Words are spells, and people liken yours to the Midas touch. You're great at giving yourself and others, affirmations, and a part of what expands your abundance is how you show gratitude. Even if it's not much, the way that you speak of things, will make others believe that what you have is golden. I'm getting a hypothetical scenario where you're in a financial bind, that's inevitable and out of your control, but instead of mentally just shutting down or letting this problem consume your day, you order an iced coffee, but do you know what you're gonna do with that iced coffee? You're gonna romanticize the hell out of that coffee! This also applies to how you look as well, doing a baddie on a budget haul at Marshall's? Best believe you're gonna still be serving CUNT in that outfit, name-brand or not. You know that each person's expiration date on life is unknown until it happens, so you really serve cunt by living each day like the world is your oyster. I notice that you're also very clear with your intent which is why the universe meets you half way. When you take a leap, you can fall, you know you're not invincible, but most of the time, you fly, and soar away into the next adventure. When you lose things or people that are not for you, don't resonate with anymore, or take you for granted, you could find yourself immediately seeing your losses being replaced with something better. You treat life like a celebration, and that's why people enjoy your company, others may feel that it's always going to be a fun, pleasant, and memory making moment when hanging out with you. You're wild in a way that may be scary for others, but also induce an adrenaline rush in others because your aura just feels so carefree and like they're being liberated.

#divination #intuitive #psychic #pick a card #tarot #spirituality #pac #tarotblr #tarot community #free readings #tarot readings #the tarot community #pick a pile #pick a picture

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mysteryshoptls · 2 months

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SSR Azul Ashengrotto - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Azul: That painting was done by a painter from the Coral Sea… I'm rather surprised at the number of merfolk focused paintings here in a museum on the surface.

Azul: I suppose I should expect nothing less from this Land of Dawning Museum with 100 years of history lining its halls. Their collection includes a wide variety of works.

Azul: Fufu, it does bring me pride a supporter of the museum. I must do my part well… Oh?

???: She's a lot bigger than I expected… Did the Sea Witch really need to grow to such a size…?

Azul: Well, well, Jamil-san. If there is anything I can elucidate you on this painting of the Sea Witch, I would happy to do so.

Jamil: Don't just listen in on someone else's personal mutterings like that. Your ears just pick up everything, huh.

Azul: The scene depicted in this painting is of when the Sea Witch was admonishing someone who tried to change their contract.

Jamil: And don't just start explaining without being prompted. Even I know about the story of when she transformed to that titanic size.

Jamil: But when I actually see this painting in person, she's just much larger than I had imagined… It's just hard to believe.

Azul: You believe this depiction is a fictional exaggeration of what actually happened?

Azul: I completely understand that. I had the same thoughts the first time I saw this painting.

Azul: Nevertheless, this painting has faithfully reproduced a well-known legend passed down in the Coral Sea.

Azul: The Sea Witch embodies the spirit of compassion. And yet, she also demonstrated her anger at the mer who broke their contract.

Azul: But all of it was for the purpose to reform the soul of the mer who had acted in bad faith!

Jamil: What, she disciplined them for their own good? …Actually, yeah, there are some people who don't learn their lesson from just a light scolding.

Azul: Indeed. That is how it is taught in the Coral Sea.

Azul: You cannot just spoil someone rotten, there needs to be some discipline as well. I believe that shows true compassion.

Jamil: I can't believe something reasonable actually came from your mouth… What's wrong, are you sick or something?

Azul: Not at all. I only say this because there was someone close to me who would do the exact same thing.

Jamil: You personally know a mer who is similar to the Sea Witch? Who could that be?

Azul: My grandmother.

Azul: She always dotes on me… And when I was a child, I was definitely spoiled rotten by her.

Azul: However, she didn't hold back on scolding me when I didn't heed her advice and mixed some dangerous potions together.

Azul: And that was beyond terrifying… She was as furious as whirlpools in a strait.

Jamil: Whirlpools in a strait, huh… I bet that was as intense at the Sea Witch in this painting.

Azul: Indeed she was. Even if I had wanted to swim away, my legs were shaking so much, I couldn't even move.

Azul: However, I do understand now that she was tough because she had been worried about me.

Azul: Even after leaving home, I diligently put forth the effort every single day while always remembering her teachings.

Azul: So whenever I go to work, I remember what she would say to me, and use that to strengthen myself before beginning.

Azul: She would say… "Become a mer who is capable of helping someone else."

Jamil: …I see.

Jamil: I gotta say, I wasn't expecting you to be that much of a grandma's boy. That's a bit of a shocker.

Azul: A grandma's boy… Well, I suppose. I am who I am now thanks to her.

Azul: Of course, it also wouldn't be incorrect to say that I learned the importance of proper compensation from her, either.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Azul: This is… a painting that depicts story of when the Fairest Queen disguised herself as an old woman and visited a young girl who lived in a forest.

Azul: If I recall, as a way to help the young girl in love, she personally came to deliver apples that the she needed for a dish.

Jamil: So she was going to get through to her love interest through their stomach, hm. If the Fairest Queen herself brought them all the way there, those apples must have been especially delicious.

Azul: Indeed, one can almost smell that sweet apple aroma just by looking at this painting.

Azul: I'm sure it would be rather difficult for a painter from the oceans to draw such a real-looking apple.

Jamil: You think? Apples are imported under the sea, too. I feel like they could draw it by looking at that…

Azul: Of course, we absolutely can get our hands of apples in the sea. However, there is a large difference in how the light hits it and how the color shines upon it when it is at the sea floor compared to the surface.

Azul: Unless that painter has spent enough years on land, the way they draw them will be completely different from how they look on land.

Jamil: Interesting. Speaking of differences, Azul… Is it true that things smell differently on land and in the sea?

Azul: Oh, you're quite knowledgeable.

Azul: It often does feel as though the same things smell differently under the sea or on the surface.

Azul: When I first came on land, every scent was new to me, so every time I came across something new, I made it a point to determine its aroma.

Jamil: You just went around sniffing everything left and right… Haha, makes me laugh just imagining it.

Jamil: I bet everything smelling different caused some confusion, huh.

Azul: I suppose so. However, I did make some new discoveries. I especially found my meal times to be very valuable.

Azul: I can never forget that moment I realized just how different the flavors of ingredients that we also had in the ocean could be just from the change in aroma.

Azul: People do often say that fragrance is a valuable part of determining the taste factor of a dish.

Jamil: That's true. Oftentimes spices are used as a way to add fragrance in the same way.

Jamil: So, what was the dish that made you realize that even the same ingredients could affect the flavor?

Azul: Just a simple grilled dish. Char-grilled meat or fish, for example.

Azul: Of course, I've eaten things made on land underwater before, but the flavor was completely different.

Jamil: Char-grilling, hm. I can definitely see that as having a different flavor, since those dishes heavily rely on aromas.

Azul: Indeed. As such, at Jade and Floyd's suggestion, we had a barbeque soon after we came to the surface…

Azul: However, our ingredients became charred due to our inability to control the heat properly, and smoke kept getting into our eyes… It was one hardship after another, since we had no idea how to do it effectively.

Azul: Not to mention that Jade and Floyd found it entertaining to keep blowing the smoke in my direction… It was a wretched time.

Jamil: Sounds like fun to me. I can picture just how disgruntled you must have been.

Azul: Oh, is that right? I'll make sure to invite you next time, Jamil-san, since you seem interested.

Jamil: …I think I'll pass, actually.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Jamil: This is a painting of the Lord of the Underworld and his human helper from his legends, huh. This lady looks pretty unhappy.

Azul: It is said that they would have troubles compromising often, and it seems that she is very reluctant towards something here.

Azul: In addition, she had failed in a task that the Lord had given her, and made a major misstep by reporting incorrect information.

Azul: However, he didn't abandon her and instead gave her a chance to redeem herself.

Azul: How utterly generous he is… The Lord of the Underworld is a wonderful inspiration as someone who knows how to rouse his people.

Jamil: Well, I can't deny that, but… To me, there's something to be said about being too tolerant.

Jamil: I know I personally would rather not have an increase in workload because something gets promised without thinking.

Azul: Are you perhaps talking about matter of raising the PR level of Night Raven College that the Headmage requested?

Azul: When that topic was brought up in the last Housewarden meeting, Kalim-san was so forthright in accepting the task.

Jamil: You accepted it, too. This is an unbearable weight on me, and my fellow dorm students, you know.

Jamil: I get why softhearted Kalim took it on, but why would you go out of your way to accept this sort of annoying task?

Azul: No reason why… The Headmage was in need, so I volunteered out of the goodness of my heart.

Azul: Also… If this PR were to succeed, then it would be beneficial to me, as well.

Jamil: Beneficial to you?

Azul: If the good name of our academy is spread, then that will also reflect on us, you see?

Azul: More than ever people will recognize us as being students from that Night Raven College…

Azul: And if it is a grand success, then as one of the organizers, I may have the chance to grow my own opportunities.

Jamil: So that's why. You're completely different from Kalim, who just took it on because the Headmage asked.

Jamil: But anyway, this is all just hypothetical, right? There's also the chance that it's all just a waste of time and effort.

Azul: That is true. However, that is no reason to sit back and do nothing.

Azul: My main goal while at this academy is to maximize my own marketability before heading out into society.

Azul: In order to achieve that, there is nothing I am unwilling to do. I must take every opportunity that is given to me.

Jamil: Sigh, that's just like you.

Jamil: Speaking of which, have you already come up with how you're planning on increasing PR?

Jamil: I hear that the organizer will have to implement the best idea personally. That's a pretty hefty load, don't you think?

Azul: Fufu, I can't go into details, but… Of course, I've thought of some feasible ideas.

Azul: If you're interested, why not join us, Jamil-san?

Azul: It would be remiss if I were to completely monopolize this wonderful of an opportunity.

Jamil: No thanks. I'll be leaving now before I get wrapped up in anything troublesome.

Azul: Fufu, and there he slips away from me. …Hm? This painting…

Azul: It's the mermaid who fell in love with a human from one of the Sea Witch's legends. She seems so naïve and vulnerable; one prone to being led on.

Azul: Fufu… The world is cruel, after all. I wonder how much of reality she actually understood.

Requested by @pianostarinwonderland.

#twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #twst azul #twst jamil #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: kalim #mention: jade #mention: floyd #mention: crowley

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70sscifiart · 5 months

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The Last-Minute Sci-Fi Gift Guide

There's only one thing worse than procrastinating on getting gifts for your loved ones, and that's procrastinating on putting together a guide to help out everyone else with all those gifts. It's Dec 12, so you can decide for yourself which I'm doing.

Art book: Worlds Beyond Time, $32

If you follow this blog, you might have heard of this one. I published Worlds Beyond Time: Sci-Fi Art of the 1970s this year after five years of work on it, and I think it's really good! 400+ images, 100+ artists, with lots of fun art history and jokes.

Also, it's just $20 right now if you order through my publisher and use the code SKIPTHELINE! Cheapest it's ever been!

Card game: Coup, $14

In this "social deduction" card game, you play as a government official in a future dystopia who needs to backstab their way into power. Everyone starts out with just two cards in this bluffing game, so the tide can turn pretty quick when players start assassinating each other's cards. The fast pace makes it a good gift for someone who loves spies but thinks they don't like card games.

Game to play over Zoom: Bad Spaceships, $3

If a bluffing game stresses you out, try Bad Spaceships: It's a collaborative world-building game in which you roll dice to see what area of your spaceship connects to another, forcing you to spitball exactly why this is the case. As the game puts it, you might fix the hull by playing Tetris, or charge your weapons in the swimming pool. You're basically getting weird prompts to tell a story that can evolve over the course of the game.

It's such an indie game that it comes as PDFs you download from itch.io, but you can play it just as well over Zoom, if you're looking for an excuse to catch up with your old digital nomad college friend.

Movies/TV: Streaming service gift card

Gift cards are all well and good, but you can personalize them by recommending a few of your favorite shows as well. I suggest:

Hulu: Cowboy Bebop

Apple TV+: Severance

Criterion Channel: Ravenous, Paprika, Strange Days

Paramount+: Yellowjackets

Amazon Prime: The Devil's Hour

But to be honest, this entry is just an excuse to talk about the new Max show Scavenger’s Reign. Inspired by the work of French artist Moebius and with a clear debt to famed 70s animated film Fantastic Planet, this stylish sci-fi show features a bunch of humans trying to survive on a beautiful but hostile alien world. Perfect for lovers of fictional nature.

Vintage sci-fi

This Etsy shop has some good stuff, like the 1971 Frank Kelly Freas NASA poster above, a bit of history that I even mentioned on page 167 of my art book.

Penguin science fiction postcards, $28

These postcards have a ton of very cool sci-fi covers I've blogged in the past – great value if you want a lot of art for a low cost.

Meteorite pendant necklace, $34

I think we all know what kind of rock your loved ones need around their neck: A chunk of meteorite straight out of the 1576 Argentinan meteorite fall.

Book recs

For astronauts: Packing for Mars by Mary Roach, The New Guys: The Historic Class of Astronauts That Broke Barriers and Changed the Face of Space Travel by Meredith Bagby

For comedians: Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir, Even Greater Mistakes: Short Stories by Charlie Jane Anders

For sleuths: Six Wakes by Mur Lafferty, Drunk on All Your Strange New Words by Eddie Robson

For crafters: Knits of Tomorrow: Toys and Accessories for your Retro-Future Needs

For the resistance fighters: The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley, An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

For slasher movie fans: Clown in a Cornfield by Adam Cesare

Syd Mead "Biomorph Vehicle" button down shirt, $49

T-shirts aren't classy enough for the world's coolest visual futurist, Syd Mead. I haven't actually bought this incredibly odd shirt, but I really need to.

Art prints (and more) from 70s sci-fi artists

Artist shops can be surprisingly hard to track down on the internet, but here's a short list of ones I've come across. All of these artists are featured in my book (except one), so you can read up on them before you commit to a print.

Michael Whelan

John Harris

Syd Mead

Don Maitz

David B Mattingly

Peter Andrew Jones - Jones was one of just a few artists who declined to be included in my art book, but he has a distinct, colorful style that I would have loved to have featured!

Finally, here's one extra bonus, just for everyone who made it to the end of this article: The UK-based educational charity Centre for Computing History sells three big officially licensed John Harris posters featuring these three artworks, famous for their use as covers for Sinclair programming manuals.

It's a great deal that I've never seen mentioned anywhere, and Harris' work has a timeless quality that makes it great for an unassuming wall decoration. If you're outside the UK, the shipping costs will be a pain, but there's no better deal for a classic sci-fi poster.

#gift guide #sci-fi #sci-fi gift ideas #gift ideas #retro sci-fi art

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canisalbus · 7 months

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hello!! i’ve always wondered what kind of traumas vasco holds himself. i know machete can be very particular (e.g. touching/personal space) , but what are some things maybe machete does to make vasco more comfortable out of just their pure love for each other? like, for example - assume vasco maybe has a hard time keeping up with personal hygiene , or maybe machete is just a lot more clean and neat than vasco is , so machete is always folding his clothes to his own standards and reminding him to wash his fur after a while of going about weekly things , since machete himself probably washes every so often just to brush out matts in his fur .

love your art btw!! :3

He really doesn't like being told what to do. His father was keen on molding Vasco into his own image and his mother was overbearing and overprotective. He was their only son (youngest child, he has two older twin sisters) and as such a lot of pressure and unrealistic expectations were placed on him. He has a tendency to rebel against authorities, especially those who use their power and status to make life miserable for people below them. He has hard time accepting advice and doesn't listen if someone shows up to explain him how he should live his life. One of the ways Machete occasionally gets on his nerves is his constant need to be in control of everything going on around him, which means he often ends up attempting to (well-meaningly) manage Vasco as well. Eventually he figures out Vasco isn't very receptive to outside guidance and usually tries to give him room to do things his own way, even if it's not the "correct" way he would prefer to handle them.

Machete has many health anxieties and once Vasco becomes a fixed part of his life he starts to worry about his wellbeing as well. Like many floppy eared dogs, Vasco has a history of dealing with recurring ear infections, especially when he was very young. Antibiotics weren't available yet so the most effective way to treat them was puncturing the ear drum and letting the accumulated fluid and pus drain out. It was painful and scary and left Vasco with a lasting aversion and distrust for medicine and doctors. He's the kind of person that resists seeking treatment even when they're clearly ill or injured and just tries to shrug it off and wait it out. Luckily he's rarely sick and the scuffs and bruises he gets from being an active and outdoorsy person heal fairly quickly. Nowadays he's very careful about drying and airing out his ear canals properly when they get wet, in hopes of minimizing the chances of another infection. He also cleans them regularly, or lets Machete help with that.

He can be a bit disorganized and overly spontaneous, which can manifest as certain sense of chaoticness. Machete does end up subtly and discreetly picking up after him, planning ahead and going the extra mile to make sure Vasco's life goes as smoothly as possible, usually in ways Vasco doesn't even notice. The clothing part was an apt everyday example, Vasco has a habit of disrobing quickly and carelessly and leaving his (expensive and expertly tailored) garments on the floor or draped across furniture and sooner or later Machete will collect them and fold them neatly for him.

#answered #thedarkspiresofkredikshaw #Vasco #Machete

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dduane · 7 months

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Judging books by their covers

Having spent the morning reading the notes on this post (and reading them, and reading them...), I realized I really needed to get to grips with a piece of work I'd been avoiding.

Some of you may remember me mentioning that the Young Wizards website's longtime ISP went out of business suddenly in July, necessitating the site's hasty relocation to a new home. In the process a lot of its internal URLs ceased to operate correctly, meaning that files weren't displaying. (As I was quickly reminded when looking for the original David Wiesner art for So You Want To Be A Wizard at 01:30 last night.)

Anyway, I just wound up spending the day rescanning book covers for the Young Wizards publication history page, and was reminded of some favorites while getting the work done. (And a note for the interested: if there's any particular cover from an English-language edition of the YW books that interests you, or you think the sight of one might jog your memory somehow, that page is where you'll find the images. Use the tabs under the header image to take you through the history of publishers and artists.)

Meanwhile, being reminded of what happened to the covers for So You Want To... alone is both funny and a bit sobering. Styles change, formats change, art directors change. Sometimes the covers get a lot better, and sometimes they, uh, don't. Look at the difference in styles alone among these, for example.

Most of the time the writer gets to take what they're given, and like it. Sometimes, though, they get to give advice.

Here, for example, is one time that happened.

This is for the UK hardcover of the first of the Feline Wizards books. The artist, Mick Posen, is a cat person... and he insisted on having pictures of the cats who inspired the NY worldgating team before he started painting. Just look at these three, especially Rhiow there in the foreground. Is this a hero, or what? :)

Here's one that caused a little controversy.

The question of the day: Is Nita wearing anything? And if so, what?

The art won Greg Swearingen a silver Spectrum Award for that Deep Wizardry painting. But he and my then-editor on the series, Michael Stearns, apparently got into it a little regarding a conflict between the text and the necessities of painting a YA cover. If I remember correctly, I think Greg was holding out for "She's not wearing anything in the text in this situation, she just turned human again after changing back from being a whale, she shouldn't be wearing anything here!" and Michael was saying "But the parents, what if we freak out the parents...!" ...Eventually it seems like some kind of compromise was achieved. Swirly light = magic, or something. (shrug) Not my problem. It's a lovely cover.

About this one I have, well, mixed feelings. At this end of time, the art looks clunky. Yet this is also my first bestseller. When the SF Book Club published this omnibus, Support Your Local Wizard quickly set records as their single most-requested item of all time for new members just signing up. Its print run ran to more than 250,000 copies, and it remained constantly in print until the Book Club itself ended.

I've always been fond of this one for Deep Wizardry, and also of the one the artist, Neal McPheeters, did for the Dell Yearling and Dell mass market paperback editions of So You Want To... . There's a solid quality to both of them, but the second one in particular, that appeals to me.

(For those in the notes on that other post who reacted immediately to Kit's antenna: This is one of the reasons why it features—along with one of Nita's wands from the rowan tree Liused—on all the covers of the revised/updated Young Wizards New Millennium Editions. I've seen a lot of memories jogged by its appearance.)

...Do I have a favorite favorite one of all these covers? As usual, it's hard to pick. But I have to admit that I smile, at the moment, when looking at this one—Greg Swearingen’s art again—since in a couple of weeks it'll be the fortieth anniversary of So You Want To Be A Wizard's publication.

We'll see what the publisher does for the fiftieth. :)

#Young Wizards #Young Wizards series #covers

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evanpeterswhoresblog · 10 months

Text

Behind the Crime

Warren Lipka x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, dominate warren, underage drinking, underage smoking, use of marijuana, rough sex, hint of choking, talk of robbery, um yeah i think that’s it

summary: from the moment you were brought into the heist, you knew working with warren was going to be hard…

word count: 3.4k

a/n: sorry for not posting guys i have not been on the grind lately. i watched this movie and omfg evan was so attractive i just needed to write. if you’re the real warren lipka just scroll this is about evan…

~~~

You sit back in your chair, the crew members adjusting your mic. You’re starting to regret doing this interview, but it’s too late to back out now. Everything’s already set up, the camera is about to be rolling. The interviewer is sitting a few feet away from you, notes in his hand. He waits for you to give him the signal that you’re ready. You nod, he begins.

“So, y/n, how did you become involved with the group?” He asks.

“I was first approached by Spencer when I was eating lunch outside one day...”

~~~

You were sitting alone, the cool fall breeze almost too cold to be comforting. You didn’t pay much mind to it though, you were more focussed on your studying. You were flipping through the pages of another history article when suddenly there was a presence beside you. Looking up at them as soon as you noticed, you recognized the boy as someone from your class.

“Can I help you?” You asked, your tone polite.

He looked nervous as if he were about to ask you out. “Hi, uh, I don’t know if you remember my name, I’m Spencer we have Art History together.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen you,” you replied. “Do you need help with the homework or something?”

“No, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else, if you’re not busy or anything,” he said, his voice quiet.

You look away for a second before replying. “Sure, sit down if you want I’m not busy.”

He smiled at you before quickly sitting at the spot across from you. He put his bag on the table, you could see him take a deep breath. Was he really going to ask you out? You thought he was cute, but definitely not your type. You started to pray he wouldn’t say anything along those lines.

“I started to ask around a week or two ago about people who are good with computers and stuff, a lot of people told me you were the best person to go to,” he started. He lacked confidence in his voice, you felt bad for the poor guy but paid close attention to his words. “I need some... help with cameras.”

“What kind of cameras?” You asked, intrigued.

What he was saying was true, you were decently good with computers. You mostly would hack into places and disable things you didn’t like, like the cameras on the public library computers. It wasn’t anything illegal, at least you didn’t think it was illegal. It probably was, but you didn’t care.

“Just you know cameras in... semipublic places...”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what kind though? Phone, laptop, desktop, security?”

“Security,” he answered quietly. “But before you say no listen, how does a couple hundred thousand dollars' worth of payment sound?

“What?”

“I won’t tell you the details till I know you’re on board but let's just say something is going down and we need help with the cameras. The pay would be huge and all you’d have to do is just mess with some cameras for like twenty minutes.”

You only stared at him; your mouth slightly hung open. Was he being serious? Was he really asking you to join him in a potential robbery that would pay hundreds of thousands of dollars? You never would’ve expected to be asked such a question on a cloudy Thursday at lunch. You shut your book completely and look around to make sure nobody is close.

“This money, it’s guaranteed?”

He nods. “As long as we get the job done, you’ll have it.”

You knew it was crazy, you knew whatever was going to happen would either result in you going to prison or having to run off into hiding. But the thought of being able to pay all your student loans off and have extra money to live off of was more appealing. Hacking into cameras wasn’t that hard, and it wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Unless it was.

“If you’re trying to get me to make sure a murder or rape isn’t on camera I’ll snitch,” you warned him.

“Oh no, nothing like that is happening at all. It’s just you know a robbery,” he replied, his expression genuine.

You nodded your head, convinced whatever he was asking couldn’t be that bad. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do it.”

~~~

“What was your first impression of the guys?

You smile. “They were really cool, funny, just overall really fun people to hang out with.”

“Do you remember the first time you met all of them?”

“Of course, like it was yesterday...”

~~~

The house you sat in front of didn’t look like a typical criminal's house. It looked like an average American’s family house actually. You were parked out on the road outside the house Spencer told you to go to, you were meeting the rest of the people involved with the robbery. It had been about ten minutes of you sitting out there debating whether or not to go in before you got a text from Spencer asking where you were. You sighed, praying to God this decision was the right one before getting out of your car.

You knocked on the front door with a shaky fist. You started to regret your decision, you thought about turning around and leaving, but the door was opened before you could act on it. An older woman stood in front of you, she looked to be in her 50s.

“Oh, you’re very pretty,” she said, making your cheeks turn red. “You’re here to see Warren, right?”

You had no idea who Warren was, but you nodded. The lady's smile grew, and she opened the door for you and ushered you inside. She directed you to the basement entrance, asking you a million questions you had no answers to. After those few but excruciating painful minutes though, you walked down the basement stairs and finally caught sight of Spencer.

There were three other guys in the room and all of their eyes were on you. Two, along with Spencer, were sitting on a couch. One of them was skinny with glasses, the other muscular with no glasses. They didn’t grasp your attention though. The last guy who was standing did. He had long dark curly hair, and eyes to match. His eyes met yours before you watched them slowly move up and down your body. You didn’t know how to react.

“Guys, this is y/n,” Spencer said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hello, I’m Eric,” the guy with glasses introduced himself.

“Chas,” the muscular guy spoke, not paying much attention to you. “Are you sure this was a good idea, Spence? How much do we really know about this chick? No offense.”

“Shut up, we agreed,” Spencer hissed. He waved you over and you complied, walking to the couch and sitting on the end beside him.

The standing guy took a step forward and held out his hand to you. You looked up at him before accepting his handshake. His hand was rough, you liked the feeling of it in yours. “I’m Warren and you are our cameraman or woman I guess.”

You laughed. “I guess.”

“How much has Spencer told you?” Warren asked after letting go of your hand and stepping back. It was then you noticed the maps on the wall with drawings all over them, the layout looked familiar.

“Just that I need to hack some cameras and that it’ll pay me a lot,” you answered. “I don’t even know what you guys are stealing.”

“Well y/n, I’m sure you’ve been to your own school's library right?”

You nodded.

“Have you ever taken a tour of the library’s rare book collection?”

You nodded again.

Warren smirked. “Then you know exactly what we’re stealing.”

Your face fell and you immediately looked at Spencer and the rest of the guys. “Are you serious? You guys want to steal historic books?”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Chas mumbled from his chair.

“Shut up Chas,” Warren quickly snapped. He looked back at you, his dark eyes engulfing yours completely. “We’ve been planning this out for months, and you are the last piece to our puzzle y/n. Think about how much you’ll be earning.”

You didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a bad idea.

~~~

“Chas eventually stopped being cold to me, I actually think in the end he became my closest friend in the group,” you say, finishing your story.

The interviewer gives you a look. “Well, besides Warren right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, a confused look on your face.

“I have to ask if the stories are true, you know about you and him. The other guys say something changed between the two of you after a party you all attended. I mean, didn’t the police even question if your involvement had a deeper meaning than simply the money?”

You shake your head, giving your best performance. “Me and Warren were only ever best friends, there was never a deeper meaning behind anything.”

~~~

Music was pumping through your body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head you could feel it. It had been a few weeks since you met the guys, and they all wanted to do something fun before the heist. So, a frat party was naturally the easiest option. That’s where you were now, already two shots and half a joint in. You didn’t know where Spencer, Nick, and Warren were, but Chas was dancing with you.

Though the two of you got off on the wrong foot, you and Chas quickly learned how well you get along. He was a good friend, all of the guys were. You liked how easily they could make you laugh and brighten your mood. They were all good people who you enjoyed being around.

Warren was the only one that you felt different for. You didn’t know why, but from the first day you met you knew your feelings for him would be different than the other three. The way he looked at you alone was completely different than the others. There was always something darker in his eyes, something you knew wasn’t supposed to be there for simply a friend. Every time the two of you looked at each other, your stomach filled with butterflies. You wanted it too. But in those first few weeks, nothing had happened. No matter how much either of you wanted it.

After some minutes of you and Chas dancing, Warren and Spencer appeared. They asked if the two of you wanted to go out and smoke, you both agreed and followed them outside the back. Not too many people were in the backyard, but there were enough for there to be a bonfire going. The four of you found an empty spot near the fire and sat down. Warren took out a joint and lit it before passing it around.

“Where’s Nick?” You asked after taking a hit.

Spencer shrugged. “Probably with the weird kids doing weird stuff.”

“He’s not that weird,” Chas replied. “He’s just awkward.”

You watched as Warren took another long hit of the joint. Because of the weed and alcohol, you found yourself even more attracted to him than when you were sober. You wanted so desperately to run your fingers through his hair, you wanted to hear his voice as you touched him. He suddenly met your gaze, his lips curled up into a mesmerizing smile. You wanted to kiss him. It was too much for you to handle.

You swallowed and stood up, brushing the dirt off your shorts. “I need to um use the bathroom.”

You didn’t wait for any of their replies. Instead, you rushed back into the house straight to the kitchen. You poured yourself a shot, downing it before giving it a second thought. You needed these feelings to go away. How were you supposed to work with Warren if you couldn’t even look at him without thinking about having sex with him? It made you feel awful. A hookup couldn’t be the reason the robbery went bad, you refused to let that happen.

After another shot, you started to forget about your feelings. In fact, you started to forget about Warren completely. All you felt was the burning sensation of the alcohol in your stomach and chest, it felt good. You stumbled out of the kitchen and into the hallway, grabbing the railings of the staircase for support. Suddenly, you felt a presence next to you, their hand on your back.

“Y/N, are you good?” It was Warren.

You turned your head and looked at him, God how could he look even better? “No- I’m not okay.”

“You’re wasted, you need some water,” he said. He moved his hand around your waist and pulled you up straight. You felt like you were on fire. “Come on, back to the kitchen.”

“Why are you here? I just- I just wanna forget about you,” you mumbled.

He started helping you walk back to the kitchen. “What? Why would you want to forget about me?”

“Because... I want you but I can’t have you. I thought you- felt the same that’s why it’s been so hard to resist,” you spoke, stumbling over your words. “I can’t look at you without thinking about you fucking me.”

Even in your drunken state, you could still see the cockiness on Warren’s face. He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly before turning and getting you a cup of water. You leaned your head back against one of the cabinets, your head was spinning. You couldn’t think straight.

“Drink,” Warren’s voice filled your ears.

You lifted your head and grabbed the solo cup from his hand, downing the water faster than ever. When you finished, you threw the cup to the floor, your eyes meeting Warren’s once again. He was standing close enough that if you reached, you could touch him.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol, or perhaps it was because of how long you’d felt the tension between you two, that gave you the courage to gently place your hand on the top of his head. His hair was soft, just like you’d expected it to be. You smiled and played with his curls. He didn’t object, you were glad. You needed this.

“Do you want me?” You asked, your voice barely audible against the loud music.

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “I thought so, but I could always be wrong.”

“Maybe I should make it clearer,” he said. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand off his head before stepping closer to you. “If this house wasn’t crowded, I’d fuck you right here, right now.”

Your heart was racing, your cheeks bright red. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Warren was still holding your wrist, it sent electric shocks throughout your body. His eyes began to shift from your eyes to your lips and so on. You swallowed; a lump had formed in your throat.

“There’s probably an empty room somewhere,” you mentioned. “You could take me to one of them and show me you mean what you say.”

Warren raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, you’re pretty drunk.”

“I’m not- I swear. I consent, I’ll remember all of this in the morning,” you replied quickly.

“All right.”

Before you could say anything else, Warren scooped you into his arms and began to carry you through the house. You didn’t know whether to pretend you were drunk so it wouldn’t look suspicious or stay awake to also not make it look suspicious. You chose to stay awake and within minutes you and Warren were alone in a bedroom, your lips connected.

The kiss was fast and rough, everything you expected from him. His arms were wrapped around your waist, he towered over you. You wasted no time, immediately kicking off your shoes and pushing Warren back until he fell onto the bed. He pulled you on top of him, guiding your hips in slow motions over his clothed erection. You felt like you were on fire, you needed more.

You broke this kiss and leaned back so you were straddling him. You pulled off your shirt and bra, Warren followed your actions. Once your eyes fell upon his toned abdomen, you audibly moaned. You quickly leaned down again and kissed his chest, beginning a trail down his body. Each breath that left his mouth made your pussy drip even more. And when you reached his navel, his breaths turned into soft whispers.

“Keep going.”

“Please.”

“I’ll do anything.”

When you no longer had any skin left to kiss you looked back up at him, his eyes were already on you. He got your signal and instantly pulled his shorts and boxers off, leaving him completely naked. You weren’t surprised at his size; you had a feeling he’d be big. You started off by slowly stroking him with your hand, the expressions on his face already enough to make you cum.

After a minute or so of that, you bent down and pressed a small kiss to his tip. You loved the way his leg twitched. It made you proud. So, you took him into your mouth. He gasped, one of his hands finding its way to the back of your head. He didn’t push you; he only twirled your hair back into a ponytail-like style and gripped it tight. You moved your head up and down, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. You were never a fan of giving head to guys, but with Warren, it was a different story.

Not much time passed before Warren pushed you gently, telling you he wasn’t going to last much longer. You didn’t care, you wanted him to finish in your mouth. But he told you he wanted to have sex, so you stopped. You peeled off your shorts and underwear before you climbed back onto him. His naked body against yours felt unreal, you were almost convinced this was all part of your drunken imagination.

However, when Warren pulled your head down and began to kiss your lips again, you knew it had to be real. His hands gripped your ass, kneading and playing with your skin. You positioned his tip at your entrance, you were so wet you didn’t need any lube. You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, you wanted to know it was okay. He gave you a nod and so you began to push yourself down on him.

He filled you well, just the perfect amount. You had thrown your head back, a moan escaping your lips. You hadn’t had sex in months, and this was the perfect way to break that streak. You started to move your body forward and backward while simultaneously going up and down. Warren’s grip on your ass tightened with each movement you made.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned. “You do it so well.”

Your confidence was boosted; you began to move faster. This only lasted a few minutes though, much to your dismay. You weren’t too athletic; you didn’t have good stamina. Warren noticed this, and without saying anything he flipped your bodies. Once on top of you, he began violent thrusts. You almost screamed from the pleasure; you’d never felt anything remotely close to it in your life. He hit your cervix each time, it made your back arch off the mattress and your nails dig into his back.

“Warren,” you whimpered. “Oh, fuck Warren.”

One of his hands wrapped around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, he just rested it there. You felt the knot in your stomach form at this. It felt so good to be dominated by him. It had been your dream for weeks, and it had finally come true. You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Warren fucking you fill your senses.

When you came, you practically screamed his name. You swore you could see stars. You’d never experienced an orgasm so hard in your life. Warren came a few seconds after you, you felt his dick pulsing inside you. He collapsed on you. You didn’t care about how his weight crushed you, you still held him as the two of you began to come down from your highs.

~~~

As the crew packs up, you remain in your chair, staring blankly out one of your windows. The interviewer is still across from you, but you don’t notice until he speaks.

“Just tell me one thing, off the record,” he says, grabbing your attention. “Did you love him?”

A small smile grows on your lips. “With all my heart.”

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