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supercantaloupe · 2 months ago

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okay don giovanni review from last night. under the cut bc it's me. tldr the vocal performances were great, leporello carried the show, one of the most insane productions i've seen thus far but somehow in a new bizarre direction from normal. good snacks.

first of all i don't care how much wine you offer i think it's kind of ridiculous to charge $165 for a base ticket price for a performance that 1. isn't even in a concert hall or theater 2. is a concert performance rather than a staged performance (which was not advertised ahead of time) and 3. was not even a full production because they made the absolutely mind boggling decision to cut 100% of the recitative and replace it with Some Guy sitting on the stage narrating the plot between every 1-3 numbers

i did not pay that much gd bless. the student ticket was way cheaper.

the narration wasn't even good it was weirdly ungenerous to the women (like how do you even make elvira out be a "women, amirite" thing and also vaguely imply anna was into it in a production with zero acting? well they figured something out) and i don't think it even explained well enough what happens between each number to truly give a first time watcher a good idea of what's actually going on. not to mention that it absolutely kills any sense of momentum in the plot and makes the entire show drag like hell, because you have to wait between every single aria for either Some Guy to talk at you for three minutes straight, or wait awkwardly while people onstage walk off and people offstage walk on. it was so painfully clunky

they had a piano up there but since there was no recit it's not like she was accompanying much of anything. in practice what it ended up being used for was 1. the mandolin part for deh vieni (acceptable in the absence of a mandolin player; they were working with a limited chamber ensemble of musicians so i get it) 2. the party music at the end of act i (egregious fault imo because it absolutely kills the vibe of the scene and completely obfuscates the way the music is supposed to be adding to the tension and chaos with its different instrumental groups playing in different meters)

and 3. used to give singers their notes when the vocal line of their arias start on beat 1 measure 1, which they otherwise would have been able to get from the preceding recits (which is imo painfully amateurish for an ostensibly professional production)

all the numbers in act i were there although the narration was so bad i got jumpscared by fin ch'han dal vino because i forgot it was supposed to be there and thought we had skipped over that point in the plot. act ii had some really bizarre additional cuts made, notably they just entirely skipped over meta di voi and vedrai carino. it was like masetto and zerlina fuck off for the entirety of act ii save for, like, mille torbidi (they VERY briefly mentioned masetto getting beat up in the narration and i don't think they mentioned vedrai carino at all, they just skipped straight from deh vieni to sola sola. and also there was a painful awkward pause before deh vieni because i think the pianist forgot she was supposed to play there and the narrator jumped ahead to the next chunk of plot explanation too early). kept both dalla and tesoro (i'm fine with this ottavio was quite good though could've used a bit of ornamentation imo), kept mi tradi, kept non mi dir (more on that in a bit). no per queste which is probably a good thing not only for the show itself but also my head would have absolutely and irreversibly exploded if they had, probably

the whole thing kind of felt underrehearsed. like a quarter of the time it seemed like people didn't know what they were doing or had to be reminded where to be at that point in the show. and there were a few moments throughout where the orchestra struggled to keep up with the singers, but i really don't think they had much time to rehearse together, honestly.

and then, to my utter shock, the finale was actually really good?? like. insane compared to the rest of the show thus far. though it helps that 1. i absolutely love the harmonieband arrangements of cosa rara/i litiganti/non piu andrai, after possibly the draggiest non mi dir i've yet experienced it was like a breath of fresh air to hear that (and non mi dir was actually well performed i liked this anna but considering how much the Entire Show was dragging, the fact that they cut meta di voi and vedrai carino, AND the fact that they promised this act would be short, it felt crazy to me to keep it at that point.)

2. leporello and the don were by far the best performers of the night. so much so that i sought them out during the post show reception to tell them how great they were and enjoyed their performance. which i usually do not do, but in this like, high school recital ass production value. unbelievable relief that the final scene is dominated by the two actors in the show who most remembered that they can, and in fact Should, be acting. so much more movement and physicality and expression from those two compared to most everyone else. leporello especially, his actor apparently specializes in comedic bass roles and it shows, he was the standout all night

and 3. for the first time in the entire production they made an interesting decision regarding the physical space and staging! they had the commendatore sing from up on a balcony overlooking the audience in the foyer. the bar admittedly was set very low in the previous act and a half but the finale reminded me that i actually like this show again which is appreciated

though they then threw another curveball at me by Cutting the sextet at the end. which like didn't even piss me off at that point i was just baffled. like the don sinks down in agony and leporello sinks down whimpering in fear and the orchestra cuts off. and i'm expecting an awkward pause while they quietly get up and shuffle off so the rest of the cast can come back but nope. big orange title slate appears on the big screen behind them and the audience breaks into a roaring applause and the announcement of the wine and dessert reception. felt like i was in a fever dream

i will say the desserts were very nearly almost worth the bullshit that was the preceding show. they were so good. thank you austria for your dedication to pastry. and because i don't drink and couldn't appreciate the free wine offered i had to indulge in my own manner. spread contained chocolate oat bites (tasted as much like espresso powder as chocolate and coated in coconut, 4/10), almond sponge cake (classic, 7/10), cardamom apple bread pudding with caramel cream (not enough cardamom but otherwise very tasty and autumnal, 8.5/10) and honey cake (11/10. i don't know how they made this so good. i want more right now so much). i take both my mozart opera and my desserts very seriously.

anyway overall the production was. i would say frustrating. the singing quality was Really Good (leporello was the clear standout, probably followed by the don though i prefer my dons with a lighter voice but technically he was very good, then probably ottavio, then maybe masetto or anna. the commendatore was great but he's in it so little it's hard to compare)

i just wish they could have, like, actually done a full production. it would have been so great if they had gotten to tell the actual story and had been fully allowed to act. when there Was acting were the best moments of the show, and it's really unsurprising that most of that came from leporello, the absolute legend.

#no one respects a galant recit anymore. smh #sasha speaks #sasha reviews #don giovanni #opera tag #Really weird production. seemed designed to piss me off specifically in many aspects #frustrating in others because it DID have a lot of (mostly and regrettably squandered) promise that shone through in moments #but the singing was good. when there Was acting that was good. the desserts were good. the narration was dogshit i hate that so much #could not have fathomed producing a performance with a narrator replacing a recit #ZERO clue how they plan on applying that model to fanciulla later in the season.#if they do at all but it seems like a Thing for this company maybe? idk #don't know if i'll go see their carmen next spring. maybe it depends on my schedule #i think carmen might suffer a little less from the narration treatment comparatively since it can already be done with dialogue #as opposed to recit #idek how you'd do a puccini like that though. unless you just completely disregard narrative flow and comprehension #which honestly maybe they do. at least the flow part. including narration feels like they WANT comprehension (even if they do it poorly)#but don't seem to care about the flow considering how it butchered one of the best operas in the repertoire so far.#seriously if you just do what's written on the page for dg you have a slam dunk. and they deliberately chose not to. baffling #anyway carmen is at the french embassy next spring so maybe i just go to practice my french.#and see if they compete with austria for their refreshment spread.#and yes i realize now that part of the high ticket price is meant to cover the wine and desserts but i still think it's kind of ridiculous #okay done now bye.

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wren-kitchens · 12 days ago

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being bad at something is so embarrassing like yeah. yeah if I practiced more i’d be better. yeah the reason I don't practice is because i’m bad. i recognise the irony. i’m still not gonna practice

#this is about drawing #I think it's partially because i’m on tumblr and i’m seeing SO much cool art and it's all better than I could do with years of practice #whereas with crochet I Can do it if I watch enough youtube tutorials but I also cba #it's a different vibe though #I just wanna Be Able to draw without spending years learning how to #I knowwww it's a bad mindset to have #but there's nothing like losing 80% of your confidence in five minutes because you zoomed out of a drawing and oh god what is that #how did I think that looked remotely good oh no I have to curl up in a hole and die #I ended up getting good at fic cause I was 12 and into hamilton and the combination of that equals zero shame #and I wish I still had that GLFHSK #I was also on wattpad so like yk full combo of literally no room to be embarrassed #wren wrambles #this is because I tried to draw my webfishing avatar and now I want to blow up

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fullofvexation · 6 months ago

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It stg every time I see an anti-CGI-in-movies post I have to physically put my phone down to restrain myself from replying with a ten page diatribe about why that's a stupid stance everyone applaud my self control

#it makes me SO ANGRY #they're always written by ppl who have ZERO knowledge of how vfx in film actually works #and then there 700 replies that are nonsense or misinformat #but the trex in Jurassic park- THE FULL BODY SHOTS WERE CGI STFU #but Guillermo del Toro- WE REDID ALL HIS CREATURES OVER THE PROSTHETICS STFU #but vecna/jarnathan/the predator- THE WERE ALL RETOUCHED YOURE NOT SEEING PURE PRACTICAL EFFECTS #AUGH #as if vfx artists don't have it rough already #you get punched by your studio punched by the director #and then if your shit is good enough people will say Look! Look how good these practical effects were!#it makes me want to scream #you spend your days making things so that people can ignore it if it's good and hate you if it's bad #I'm begging people think for a SECOND before you just slam and entire art form and professional field ffs #okay I'm done #I have so much to say about this I could go on forever

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nozomijoestar · 8 months ago

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you reblogging so much of shin megami tensei got me back on playing the game i had for a while (smt5) but i'm really curious what the one ur reblogging is about

I want to play four (the one with the samurai) if that's the one you mean but if you mean three then that's Nocturne and I'm playing it now. You play a guy who with his two friends is spared the apocalypse but are left to all fend for themselves in the world after, infested with demons because the people that ended the world wanted to bring about the process of creating a new one. Instead of dying immediately in what's effectively now a waiting room with everyone from Heaven, Hell, and myth, the player is saved because some kid (won't spoil his identity) who's part of these forces likes you and makes you swallow a parasite. You become half human half demon. Because you're now half demon you get excluded from being able to make a Reason ie. come up with an idea for a world to replace the old one, then get sponsored by a demon to fight in the struggle to make your Reason the new world. But being excluded from making your own allows you to choose what Reason you'll sponsor and champion into existence, or you can reject all of them, or you can leave the world to be solely for demons. Among other routes.

It's demonic pokemon just like other mainline SMT in a philosophical thought experiment, because the only way to gain party members is by fighting then talking to demons to collect them. I just really like the different Reason philosophies and how they interact and what happens when you reject them all; I like what the game is trying to say about what defines a human being, even if they get made demonic, really what's the difference between a human being and a demon at all and so on. It's not very character driven, characters are more a representation of the themes, commentary the game is making etc. and implications of where those intersect or what's implied but in this case I think that's fine. The music is bangin and the atmosphere is fantastic. I know it has a reputation for being hard but so far I don't care when it'll get hard for me, the combat is fun; getting absorbed in everything else is the real reward. And I love Demi-Fiend's tattoos that are more like his demonic veins. Really that was the first thing that always made me wanna play, his design.

How do you not find this cool

#Yosuga Reason and Freedom Reason make the most sense to me because either humanity should either take responsibility for our free will #or be exterminated to make room again for all other life on the planet if we can't and devolve into cleaning each other out #all the others are either temporary short sighted parts of humanity's problems or abandon it to death entirely which ig is also ok #there's also the one where you do choose to be a pawn but in the long run what's being a pawn getting you tbh #and by just ok on the others is i mean i think the coin toss between favoring Yosuga or Freedom is more interesting here #'but why like Yosuga at all-' listen if something's not working it's not working that means you do the practical thing & eliminate it #i am not wishy washy kiddie gloves when it comes to humanity as a whole if we can't fix our shit w free will we have earned our destruction #extremely selfish to make everyone suffer living on the off chance something 'good' happens while we cause destruction & horror to ALL life #what is that really in clinging on to good things if not chasing pleasure for your fleeting gain and evil persists around or because of it #all truly is vanity #also I see zero difference between Yosuga social darwinism until we die out from reality as it is- minus the suppression of free will #we're already suffering Yosuga in a sense #if you can't use your free will for good and betterment for others esp those who can't use free will themselves and yourself then you die #sums up how i see getting to try Freedom vs / alongside Yosuga #might makes right is already exactly how the world works and how it always has worked #the entirety of human history to right now is who can kill and surpress the best to take from others- Yosuga just makes it obvious #and the sole principle to exist but it's already existed even in a world with free will and Freedom

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luckyladylily · 1 year ago

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You know, after a hundred days of strike, I have noticed absolutely no differences.

I mean, they say shows are canceled because of it, but they would cancel shows for any reason or no reason at all. They often wouldn't tell us one way or another for months or years. Functionally, the uncertainty is the same.

The same goes for delays. How the hell am I supposed to tell if some show or another was delayed? They were never released in any sort of timely fashion before. What does a delay even mean when there is nothing even resembling a schedule? I mean, there wasn't even something like "within the first two weeks of august we will put something up for you to watch."

Zero accountability means they got away with whatever bullshit practices they wanted to, but now its cutting both ways. Any claim that this strike is negatively impacting me is meaningless because Netflix and most the other entities like them have built a system where it is extremely difficult to hold anyone accountable for anything.

And now they seem to think they can just bring accountability back? If they had numbers they could point to maybe it would work, but that's half the battle here. They are desperate to avoid releasing anything that tells anyone outside the company what the hell is going on. So we are just supposed to take their word for it, no really bro, it's actually really bad for you and all the strikers fault if only you could see the numbers that we refuse to show you, you're just gonna have to trust us bro.

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girlrotterr · 17 days ago

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⊹ ⠀࣪ She's thinking about me every night, oh! ⠀ ࣪˖

✧ ⁺˳ loser!ellie x stripper!reader headcanons! ֹ　 a/n: first attempt at headcanons!! soo this may be a little jumbled but I absolutely loved making this!!

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie who swears it’s the last time she’s coming to see you because she can’t risk embarrassing herself again. But the moment she remembers the rhythm of your body, her mind drifts, and suddenly she’s back at the club, dollar in hand, cheeks warm as she recalls the tiny, breathless “Hello..” she squeaked out the last time. Before she knows it, she’s there again, telling herself it’s just one more time.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie who’s made herself a regular at the club, nervously occupying the same table every night, hoping for just a glimpse of you. But her dorkiness draws attention; other dancers lean over, offering her dances with winks and playful smiles. She goes stiff, almost panicking, stuttering, “Oh, no—I mean, no, thank you,” glancing toward the stage, desperate for you to see that she’s loyal to one person only. “Come on, sweetheart, it’s just one dance.” Too polite to shut them down, she mumbles, “I, um…no, sorry,” rubbing the back of her neck and avoiding eye contact like her life depends on it. “I’m, like… kinda into someone already,” her voice is so quiet that the other dancers smirk, teasing her about her crush. She turns bright red, waving them off, mumbling, “It’s…not like that,” even as her eyes drift to the stage.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie who can’t help but stare when you’re on stage, entranced by every movement, forgetting herself so completely that she grips the edge of her seat, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. The second you look her way, though, her cheeks flush crimson, and she fumbles over her drink, trying to play it cool, but you see it—the way she’s completely, hopelessly hooked on you.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie whenever she thinks she’ll act smooth next time, she ends up a flustered mess. Her hand trembles midair as she finally gathers the courage to slip a dollar between your thong; the moment their fingers brush, her eyes go wide, and she swears her heart might actually stop.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie who tries to mutter something cool under her breath, like “you’re so sexy,” but it comes out so soft and awkward that you have to lean in to hear her. Your knowing smile makes her cheeks heat up even more.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie who barely finishes her shift at her part-time job before she’s rushing to her phone, pulling up her bank app to see if her paycheck hit. The second she sees it’s in, she’s already thinking about all the ways she can spend it on you. She might be broke for the next two weeks, but the thought of seeing your face light up is enough to keep her going.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie hyping herself up by imagining what she’ll surprise you with next. The moment her shift’s over, she’s browsing for little things you’d love: those fancy earrings you mentioned once, a necklace she thinks would look perfect on you, or that one bottle of perfume she remembers you ran out of. By the time she’s done, she’s practically holding an empty wallet, but she doesn’t even care.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie who shows up at the club with a nervous grin and a freshly wrapped gift just for you, stuffed in a little paper bag she decorated herself to save money. She’s a bit embarrassed handing it to you, mumbling, “It’s nothing fancy,” but her heart’s racing as she watches you unwrap it. Every time you gasp or smile, her face lights up even brighter, totally worth every last cent.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie who sits at home counting change, literally living off instant ramen, but with zero regrets because she already spent her last dollars on that pair of heels you were obsessing over. She pictures you wearing them, looking absolutely incredible, and can’t wait for your next dance. Even though she’s practically starving, she figures seeing you in them will more than make up for it.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie who can’t even afford the gas to drive herself home but still manages to slip a folded bill to you at the club, the look on her face a mixture of pride and shyness as she mutters, “Just…y’know, for you.” It’s her last dollar, but when you smile and lean in to thank her, she’s practically glowing, whispering to herself that she’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie who hypes herself up to ask you out after your shift, but when she sees you coming her way, her mind goes blank. “You’re, like… really good at…” she blurts out, regretting it the instant it leaves her lips. Blushing hard, she watches you raise a brow, her heart racing as she shuffles awkwardly on the spot. But when you smile at her, she’s secretly thrilled.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie dresses in a rotation of baggy jeans that hang a little low on her hips, with boxers peeking out and a series of painfully awkward T-shirts proclaiming phrases like “Raw Sex” or “Big Dick Is Back In Town” in bold, obnoxious letters. She strolls in with her half-tucked T-shirt, completely unaware of how ridiculous she looks, thinking they make her seem cool.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie who tries to keep her composure as you eye her stupid shirt, but the blush creeping up her neck gives her away. She fumbles, wishing she’d worn anything else, but it’s too late. You lean in, whispering, “Nice shirt,” and Ellie is left a red-faced mess, speechless, trying to figure out if you’re making fun of her or if you actually think it’s… well, nice. “It was laundry day…” She fidgets nervously with the hem of her shirt, tugging it down to cover the waistband of her jeans, as if you won’t notice the bold letters across her chest.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie who goes completely stiff when you slide onto her lap, her eyes wide as she tries to figure out where to put her hands without losing her mind. Her palms are already clammy, and she stares up at you, clearly overwhelmed, the tips of her fingers hovering, barely daring to graze you. As you lean closer, brushing your chest against her, she bites her lip to keep from making a sound, her breath catching. When you take her hand and guide it to your waist, she’s sure you can feel her fingers trembling, cold against your skin. You whisper something teasing in her ear, and she’s suddenly even more nervous, her pulse racing as she clings to your words.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie who’s a flustered, shaky mess when her fingertips brush the soft skin , cheeks flushed red as she tries to avoid looking too overwhelmed. You can feel her hands flex slightly, as if she’s afraid to grip you too tightly and ruin the moment. Every little movement from you has her body tensing, her fingers trailing tentatively over you, and the way she’s practically holding her breath gives her away. When her fingers graze your ass, she flinches, almost pulling back, but your playful smile makes her stay put.

⋆ ⁺ ∿ Loser!Ellie whose cheeks are flushed, and she can barely make eye contact, her voice a hoarse whisper as she mumbles, “I—I don’t usually… um..” When you rest your hands on her shoulders, guiding her hands more firmly around you, her fingertips sink into your waist, icy and shaky. She tries to lean in like she knows what she’s doing, only for you to kiss her neck, leaving her a quivering mess. She tilts her head back, giving you full access, her breath hitching audibly, and she prays you don’t tease her about it. But you do, whispering against her ear, making her shift in her seat as her face flushes an even deeper shade of pink, almost whining in response.

#ellie headcanons #loser!ellie #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie fanfic #ellie tlou #ellie x y/n #ellie smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader smut #ellie x you

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xosannie · 2 months ago

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Head Empty, Mouth Full

☆Genre: smut 18+ MDNI

☆Pairing: soft bf!Yunho x needy gf!reader

☆Word Count: 1.9k

☆Warnings: pwp, oral (m receiving), praise, hair pulling, cock worship, just a sprinkle of deep throat, soft dom Yunho, cum eating, reader doesn’t orgasm (sorry) (let me know if I missed anything)

☆a/n: Short fic, I just can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to give Yunho head. Yunho makes me feral so I hope you enjoy this as much as I do ^_^

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You hummed softly at the feeling of Yunho‘s long fingers massaging your scalp. Your head rested on his thigh as he sat back against the headboard on your bed. You both enjoy each other's warmth as a movie played on the TV.

You felt so warm and so safe snuggled up in the covers and nuzzling into Yunho’s lap. Every now and then he would glance down, smiling softly at the sight of your comfortable position. Your hair was so soft, he liked to brush the strands out of your face so he could see your pretty beauty marks better.

“You’re so pretty,” he said in a low, gruff tone.

“You’re one to talk.”

Yunho chuckles at your reply, cupping your face to stroke your cheek. Yunho’s touch was so gentle, it made your heart swell. He felt so warm, and he smelled so nice. He just came out of the shower a few minutes ago, so you could faintly smell his body wash. It was a mix of musk and soft vanilla.

You nuzzled your face in his thigh, taking in his scent and holding him closer. You loved his smell, his touch, and his voice. You loved his long fingers that felt good when they ran in your hair, and you loved how they felt thrusting deep inside you.

Woah, where did that come from?

You try to shake those thoughts away. You and Yunho were having a wholesome time; let’s not ruin it with your degeneracy. Your eyes zeroed in on his crotch that was a mere inches away from your face.

Oh no… Why were you feeling horny all of a sudden?

You tried to ignore the small ache that began to grow in between your legs. You shifted around, legs entangling with Yunho’s under the covers. Yunho didn’t think of it much, assuming that you were just trying to get comfortable.

It wasn’t until he felt your hands slowly running up his thigh, gripping the fabric of his sweats, that made him put two and two together. He noticed the shift in your behavior, and a small smirk grew on his lips.

“Is my baby horny?”

You pressed your lips together, and you felt a blush creeping up on your cheeks. Of course, Yunho has always been observant; he can practically read you like a book. You didn’t know why you were feeling shy all of a sudden; it’s not like you both haven’t had sex many times before. You nod slowly, avoiding Yunho’s gaze.

“How did you know?” You ask softly.

“We’ve been dating for years; I can tell when my girlfriend is horny.”

You hear him chuckle darkly, the sound sending straight to your core. He runs his hands down under the cover to rub your arm in a soothing manner.

“What do you want to do about that, huh?”

Your eyes flickered back to the crotch of his sweats, your mouth starting to feel empty. You rolled over on your stomach, resting your weight on your elbows in front of you. You look up at a smirking Yunho.

He knew exactly what you wanted.

His hand cupped your jaw, thumb toying with your bottom lip, pulling it down just to let it snap back in place.

“Wanna suck my dick?” He says softly, his voice deep with desire, and you already started to feel hypnotized by it.

You nod your head, looking up at Yunho through your lashes. He tsked at you, shaking his head side to side before speaking.

“Use your words, baby.”

"Yes, I want to suck your dick.”

He smiled wide, pushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear.

“Go on then. You have my permission.”

Without a second thought, you pulled the waistband of Yunho’s sweats, pulling them under his balls and admiring his soft dick.

He watched in admiration as you took his length in your hand, slowly stroking it. It honestly didn’t take long for Yunho to start getting hard; the sight of you looking up at him with his dick in your hand alone was enough to cause a stir at his lower stomach.

You loved the feeling of Yunho slowly getting more aroused; you took his half-hard cock in your warm mouth. You loved it even more when you felt him grow bigger against your lips. He let out a small huff, never taking his eyes off you.

“That’s it, my good girl; get me hard.”

You moaned softly at his praise, encouraging you to bob your head slowly up and down his shaft. After you felt he was fully hard, you pulled off, collecting a wad of spit and letting it drip past your lips and down on his length. You use that as lubricant, stroking Yunho a little faster.

Yunho’s breath started to grow heavier, and his eyes glistened with desire and affection. You just looked so pretty between his legs. He continued to run his hands in your hair, wanting to keep touching you any way he could.

“You have the prettiest cock,” you whisper, placing a warm kiss on his tip while you looked up at him.

Yunho takes in a breath through his nose, your praise going straight to his dick. His eyes darkened a bit, watching the way your lips pressed against him.

You trailed kisses from his tip all the way down to the base of his shaft; you stuck your tongue out and licked a long strip back up to the top. Yunho let out a shaky breath as his fingers started to grip at the roots of your hair.

“You are so perfect like this.”

You whimper softly, licking his tip while you stroke the rest of his shaft.

“I love your dick Yunho,” you whine.

He moaned at your words, feeling himself throb. You take the head of his length in your mouth, sucking softly while your tongue dances around his slit. Yunho let out a quiet moan, brows furrowing as he spoke in a breathless tone.

“I love when you worship my cock.”

You couldn’t take much more; you needed Yunho to fill your mouth. You slid down, taking him deeper, which caused Yunho to gasp. He wasn’t expecting you to take him in all of a sudden, and he held your hair back to keep it out of your face.

“Fuuckk, there you go.” He breathed out.

You bobbed your head up and down slowly, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his throbbing length sliding against your tongue. You let out moans, subconsciously rocking your hips back and forth with need.

You core ached desperately between your legs. You loved sucking Yunho off so much; it was so hot and intimate. You swear you can get close just by having his dick in your mouth.

“Mmm, you look so happy with my cock in your mouth,” he moaned, looking down at your blissed face.

You whimper at his words, your hand holding onto what you couldn’t reach. Yunho’s dick was long; you’re still training yourself to fully take him down your throat with ease.

You pull off to let yourself breathe, stroking him faster as you pant heavily. A string of saliva connected from your lips to his tip, and Yunho groaned at the sight. He reached down to wipe the drool off the side of your mouth.

You rested your head on his thigh while stroking his cock; he chucked at your behavior, petting your hair while he watched you endearingly. You started to feel yourself get more needy, but you didn’t want to stop pleasing Yunho. Not until he finished.

“My pretty girl just can’t get enough of my dick, huh?”

You whimpered, hiding your face in his lap. He gripped the roots of your hair, slowly lifting your head up to look at him. The action was both gentle and rough; it made your pussy throb.

“Answer me when I talk to you.”

“Yes! I love your dick. I can never get enough,” you moaned out.

You loved how Yunho can manage to be both soft and demanding. Hearing his dominant words while he spoke in a gentle tone made you feel dizzy. He groaned, enjoying the look on your face and the sound of your needy voice.

You take him back in your mouth, sucking while bobbing your head. This time Yunho helped guide you on his cock. He held onto your hair, pushing and pulling your head up and down. His moans grew louder, and so did yours.

You tried to keep your eyes on Yunho, wanting to see his expression, but your vision kept blurring. Tears spilled out of your eyes from how turned on you were, and Yunho smiled while wiping them away. The sounds of lewd slurping and low moans filled the room.

You wanted more; you needed more. You pulled off one last time, trying to even out your breath to prepare yourself for what you were going to do next. You saw the way Yunho twitched in your hand, his pretty cock glistening in the dim lighting as it shone with your saliva.

You kissed his tip one last time before taking him back in your mouth. This time, you steadied your head, taking in a breath through your nose, and let your jaw relax. Yunho watched you intently, curious about what you’re doing.

“What is it, ba-oh my god!”

You take Yunho deeper in your mouth, going all the way down till your nose nuzzled against his pelvis. Yunho let out a loud moan, throwing his head back and tightening his grip in your hair. The feeling of your throat constricting around his length was enough to make him feel closer to release.

“I’m gonna… I’m close.” He whined.

You moaned, pulling off just to do it again. This time Yunho held you down, panting heavily as he moaned your name beautifully. You gripped his sweats tightly, feeling dizzy and, oh, so aroused. You felt him uncontrollably buck his hips up, fucking your face and making you choke.

You choking is what pushed Yunho off the edge. And with one last whine from him, he came down your throat.

You pulled off slightly so his hot seed could cover your tongue. You moaned at the taste of him; you swear you almost came right then and there. Once you felt Yunho pull you off by your hair, you looked up at him holding his cum in your mouth.

Yunho panted heavily, head resting on the headboard after his intense orgasm. He looked down at you, cupping your cheek.

“Let me see,” he huffed.

You opened your mouth, showing off his semen on your tongue and making sure not to let it spill out. He smiled weakly, patting your cheek.

“Good girl, now swallow.”

You did just that, opening your mouth again to show him that you swallowed every last bit. He cupped your face with both his hands.

“You’re so good to me; come here, sweetheart.”

Your heart swelled with pride at his words, sitting up to straddle his lap. You felt him wrap his long arms around your waist as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. You hum in the kiss, smiling wide.

“I like being your good girl.” You say softly, causing Yunho to chuckle breathlessly.

“That was amazing, baby.”

You giggle, placing a kiss on his nose, making him scrunch it up adorably. You both sat there for a moment, feeling his soft touches on your body as he tried to soothe you. He rubbed your aching jaw, placing kisses down your neck.

“You really know how to make me feel good.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift.”

You both laughed softly; you felt his arms tighten his hold around you. He grabbed your chin to pull you in for another slow kiss.

“Now it’s my turn to make you cum.”

“Fuck, yes, please,” you groan.

#ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #smut #jeong yunho #yunho smut #yunho #yunho x reader

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gyuswhore · 4 months ago

Text

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

[You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here.

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents.

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7 [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations.

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway.

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too.

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table.

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway.

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order.

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink.

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved.

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time.

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence.

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either.

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence.

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave.

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.”

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion.

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least.

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him.

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing.

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving.

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him.

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself.

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever.

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth.

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too.

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco.

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.”

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances.

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after.

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!”

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck.

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks.

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault.

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside.

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire.

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting.

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?”

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again.

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact.

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little.

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop.

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway.

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators.

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of.

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag.

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask.

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?”

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside.

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things.

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.

“Am I late for something again?”

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face.

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all.

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage.

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you.

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.”

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard.

“So you can fix it?”

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.”

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine.

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you.

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work.

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him.

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular.

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close.

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly.

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row.

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.”

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.”

You questioned if this was a mistake.

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course.

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again.

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke.

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t.

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos.

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often.

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving.

“Shall we go to the office then?”

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra.

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed.

Cute.

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet.

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup.

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side.

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins.

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space.

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?”

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?”

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying.

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues.

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–”

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.”

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease.

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name.

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea.

“Are you doing anything else today?”

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly.

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside.

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt.

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay.

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly.

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination.

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars.

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer.

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway.

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched.

“Fuck, yes you can.”

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top.

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers.

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs.

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster.

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace.

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth.

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees.

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy.

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly.

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs.

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support.

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him.

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you.

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash.

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harrysbelovedd · 6 months ago

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espresso [rafe cameron]

“oh he looks so cute, wrapped round my finger..” ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

pairing - rafe cameron x reader

summary - rafe doesn’t do relationships, cuddling, kisses, and sweetness. strictly no commitment hookups had sufficed. that was until he met the girl at the coffee shop.

warnings - nothing rlly, just super sweet whipped rafe

Rafe was heartless. Cold. Rough. Any situation he had with girls was nothing more than that—a situation, a fling. He had absolutely zero desire to be in anything committed.

To his friends, his sisters, his family, and his hookups—he was a mean, heartless monster. (Only tolerating Wheezie, of course.)

And he liked it that way.

No one expected anything from him, no one bored him with their feelings. It made his life so much easier not being overly concerned about the well-being of others.

But today, when Wheezie dragged Rafe to some fancy coffee shop she’s been wanting to visit, his philosophy flew out the window.

“Yeah, I’ll have the caramel latte with cold foam,” the young girl recites her order. “Oh! And a chocolate croissant.”

“Yeah, for sure!” I smile at her, typing her order into the till. “Anything for you?” I turn my attention to the man next to her, presumably a father or brother—probably brother, he seems younger.

He doesn’t say anything, his gaze remaining intent on my features, like my words flew right past his ears.

“Um.. sir? Did you want anything?”

The girl next him sighs, shoving his shoulder. “Stop staring at her you creep.”

His head shakes, like he was snapped out of a trance. He comes to the situation at hand, pinching the bridge of his nose “I’m sorry, that was probably creepy, my bad,” he chuckles awkwardly. The girl next to him makes a face at him, surprised by his actions.

“It’s okay,” I smile. “I zone out a lot too,” I let out a small giggle, trying to make him feel more comfortable.

He grins, “Yeah, um, I’ll take a macchiato, thanks.”

“Great, and could I get a name for the order?”

“Whe—“

“Rafe,” he interjects. I grin, writing his name down.

He pays for the drinks, smiling at me before going to find a table with the girl.

“What was that?” Wheezie questions loudly.

“Shut it, Wheeze. I was zoned out, is all.”

She blows out a puff of air, “Yeah right, me and that barista could practically see the drool falling out of your mouth the second you laid eyes on—“

I kick Wheezie’s leg under the table when that same pretty barista comes by with our drinks.

“One caramel latte with cold foam and a chocolate croissant,” She smiles sweetly, placing the pastry and sugary drink in front of Wheezie. “And one macchiato for Rafe.”

When my name rolls off her tongue, I swear I see stars. She says it with a sweetness I’ve never heard before. Her voice so soft and kind. As she’s placing the drink in front of me, all I can think about it how much I wish I knew her name.

So, I incite a moment for her to tell me. “Thank you…” I pause, trailing off.

“Oh, Y/n!” She says, surprise I asked such a question.

Y/n. So fitting. It’s perfect.

“That’s a pretty name,” for a pretty girl, I wish to say.

She grins, her cheeks flushing a shy pink. “Thanks, if you guys need anything else, let me know!” She informs before wandering off.

Once she’s out of ear shot, Wheezie begins. “Might as well go kiss her over the coffee beans.”

“Oh, shut up, Wheeze.”

one year later

I walk through the doors of Tannyhill like I have so many times before, it’s become a second home.

“Hi, sweetie.” Rose says from the living room where she sips on a glass of wine, reading a book.

“Hi, Rose! Do you know where—“

“He’s in the gym with Topper and Kelce. Beware I hear a lot of groaning and shouting. Too much testosterone for their own good.” She jokes.

I chuckle, shaking my head as I head to the side of the house near the garage where the gym is. The blasting of rap music grows louder the closer I get along with the clanking of weights, and occasional grunts.

I open the door and see Topper and Kelce doing pull ups while Rafe bench presses. Rafe can’t see me due to obviously needing to stay focused.

“Hey, Y/n,” Topper greets, jumping down from the pull up bar.

Before I could ever reply with a greeting, Rafe hooks up the bench press, sitting up quickly. “Y/n?” He smiles, his smile faltering when he turns back toward his friends. “Aye, Kelce, turn that shit down.”

He gets up, walking toward me and pushing me out the door and back into the hallway. He closes the door behind him and his hands find their spot on my waist, a grin taking home on his lips. “Hey baby.”

I smile, my cheeks flushing pink. “Hi.”

“What’re you doing here?” He asks, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles into my skin that’s exposed near the hemline of my shirt.

My hands run up his chest, manicured nails running along the collar of his shirt. “Nothin’… just missed you is all.”

“Yeah?” He questions, that sly smirk on his lips. “You missed me, baby?”

“Yeah, come hang out with me? We can just stay upstairs or we can go to the beach maybe? Or go get lunch, hm?” I coo, my hands now running along his jaw, studying his every feature.

“Whatever you wanna do, my love. Just wanna spend time with you.” He leans in, his lips kissing their favorite spots along my jaw and neck. He pauses for a moment when he hears childish giggles from the other side of the door.

Topper and Kelce walk out, teasing grins on their faces. “I missed you baby,” Topper mocks. “I missed you more, come kiss me and spend time with me, please Y/n. Let me worship the ground you—“

Kelce was cut off by a rough punch to his shoulder. “Ow! Shit, Rafe. Not my fault you’re whipped.”

Topper and Kelce chuckle, walking past us toward the front door. “Try that shit again and you won’t be able to walk out of here!” Rafe threatens.

“Oh cmon, Rafe. They just know you’re wrapped around my finger,” I say loud enough for them to hear.

“Ain’t that the motherfuckin’ truth!” Topper shouts before shutting the front door behind him.

Rafe buries his head in my shoulder, “Baby, you’re just egging them on.”

I chuckle, “Sorry, you’re just so cute all wrapped around my finger.”

He looks back in my eyes, a smile on his lips. “I’m whipped and I’m proud.”

I chuckle, slapping his chest playfully as I drag him upstairs.

#obx fic #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron fluff #rafe obx #rafe cameron blurb #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #outer banks #outerbanks rafe

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inkskinned · 1 year ago

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it's just that there's a few more steps you have to take that other people don't have to take, but they don't see the steps, so they think you should be able to hop from moment to moment, a chickadee.

it isn't getting out of bed. it is the weight, the hook in your chest, the anchor. you have to move the anchor first. you have to silence your alarm, but your phone is in your hand, which means now you have to put the phone down, which is too-hard. you get stuck in there for a while, the white screen, mindlessly scrolling. you don't even like this activity, have tried a few other options but - here you are, and time is passing.

you've googled iron deficiency causes depression and if i drink enough water does it help with mental illness and anxiety but no caffiene within the last two weeks, like how you googled am i gay quiz at 17.

it isn't just calling the doctor back, it's the anxiety, it's these little moths in your lung cavities, furious and fluttering. you need to figure out how to capture your fingers from between their nervous bodies. you are an adult, you can say the words yes hi, i'm calling because i need - but you need to practice first. maybe write it down because what if you misspeak, wouldn't that be embarrassing. write it down, but you need to find a pen first. well, actually, your desk is kind of messy. you should get a new pen. you should get a new organizational system. you should try journaling.

your grades in school were always strange. the way teachers would say things like it feels like you're not trying. you could touch stars in the stuff you cared about. well, sometimes. god be willing. homework average zero. oops! your english teacher's wrinkled brow: i know you know this stuff. what the fuck are you doing?

it isn't the showering, it's the mirror before the shower and the soft horrible pull of your naked physique. you have to avoid eye contact completely or else it'll be 93 minutes later and you'll have picked at your skin until every little pore is bleeding. you have to stand up but standing is tiring and also you should have remembered to buy more soap but you never remember anything. maybe get out of the shower and while it's still running and you're still dripping wet, use your phone to take a note. make a note to get your groceries. let the shower run while you stand half-in half-out and get lost in your phone for a moment. come back out when the water runs cold and now you have to sprint to get ready.

your grandmother's frown. you're just being lazy. protestant work ethics in a house that isn't even protestant. she says she just learned different but she means learned better, doesn't she.

it's not that you can't send the email, it's that your hands have been hurting lately and the desk really is messy and also why the fuck would you even care about this thing? doesn't everyone else feel like they're drowning? hi brendon thanks so much for sending! will review and get back to you shortly. but now you're on the internet, close the tab with tumblr on it. go on, close it. feel the little soft vapor of boredom come up and over your eyeteeth and make everything overwhelming and itchy.

literally all you have to do is put on shoes to go outside. you're literally already dressed, that's the hard part of this whole thing. literally just put the shoes on. just... do it! do it! this shit is easy!

it's literally that easy. just stop taking all those stupid invisible steps. stop following your strange made-up rules. times like this, even you're positive you're faking. you just don't want to bother with the cleaning and the cooking and the being-an-adult.

but then - shouldn't you be able to put these stupid shoes on? nobody's even looking. go on kid. life is out there! just take the leap!

get moving.

#spilled ink #writeblr #warm up

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wynnyfryd · 5 months ago

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@messessentialist told me her friend called to rant about spotting an “upsettingly beautiful boy in a tj maxx” and i vomited 1200 words about it, enjoy

—

fic idea: chrissy and eddie work together at tj maxx. one afternoon a guy comes in who’s so hot that it kinda just pisses eddie off? bc like, who does this gorgeous asshole think he is??? coming in here and popping his hip at eddie’s counter, like, does he even know how uncomfortable it is to start chubbin’ up in skinny jeans?? that shit chafes!

so eddie gets all flustered and responds by getting an attitude with the guy because he has zero chill (and also because the dude’s iced coffee is sweating a ring all over eddie’s counter, and so help him if his manager gets on his ass one more time about keeping his station tidy—)

“did you need help finding anything else today?” eddie sneers. “coasters, perhaps?”

upsettingly hot guy looks confused for a second before he follows eddie’s pointed glance at the plastic starbucks cup leaving a cold puddle on the laminate, and then he sneers right back; adjusts the ray bans nestled in his perfect honey brown hair and looks eddie up and down — long, slow, one eyebrow lifting in subtle elitist disapproval.

“what?” he snorts, “hot topic wasn’t hiring?”

oh, fuck you very much!

so eddie’s all ‘nemesis acquired’ and holds the biggest grudge of all time. makes a sworn enemy and a boogeyman out of the guy, turns him into urban legend, starts blaming the Upsettingly Beautiful Man for every little thing that goes wrong in his life — at work, at home, at band practice; no place is safe from the dreaded UBM.

“he’s not a fucking cryptid!” gareth snaps one day at rehearsal, chucking a drumstick at eddie’s head. “just track him down and bone already so you can shut the hell up!”

“wouldn’t he just talk about him more after they have sex?” jeff wonders, to which gareth narrows his eyes and raises his second drumstick as a threat.

meanwhile, eddie’s cute coworker chrissy (who he’s become surprisingly good friends with, to the point of referring to her as his work wife) gets a girlfriend. robin’s sooooo pretty, and soooo nice, and sooooo tall, eddie, did you know how tall she is?

yes, chrissy, he’s supremely aware of a stranger’s five-foot-eight-and-a-half stature now, thank you.

“you have to meet her!” chrissy gushes, bouncing up onto her toes.

eddie hangs another shirt. “you have to chill.”

“hey!” she pouts, pixar princess cute. “you wouldn’t tell the sun to dull its shine, would you?”

“i mean, i would, but i doubt the giant ball of plasma cares what i want.”

“okay, whatever, eeyore.” she rolls her eyes but she physically can’t stop beaming even as she does it, and eddie finds himself melting under it — some sort of radiant area attack coming from the apples of this girl’s cheeks, he swears, because the next thing he knows he’s agreeing to go to rando new girlfriend’s housewarming party this weekend so he can meet her properly.

only he doesn’t get to meet her properly, because when he shows up to the party the two bedroom apartment is packed with people he’s never seen, and it’s loud as fuck in here and he’s sweating through his leather from the six flights of stairs he had to climb to reach the place, so he steps through a sliding door out to the balcony and lo and behold, if it isn’t Upsettingly Beautiful Man looking upsettingly beautiful — positively fucking divine, actually, the last wisps of fuchsia sunset catching the gold streaks in his hair and dotting the tip of his flawless nose. Seriously, does this dude have any flaws? A scar, a birthmark, an unsightly ingrown hair? Eddie can’t even see a single blackhead for fuck’s sake.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer” the dude mutters, turning to look at him, and, “oh, my god, you again?”

“uh.”

“i’ve got a fucking coaster this time,” the guy says, lifting his solo cup and giving it a little shake to point out the cork round sitting underneath it, “so if that’s what you came out here to berate me for, then you’ll have to think of something else.”

“uh,” eddie says again, because he has no idea what brought this on but he’s pretty sure it has shit all to do with him, and pretty boy’s really working himself up now, arms moving in sharp gestures as he paces back and forth on the short balcony.

“not that it even matters if i didn’t have a coaster, because this is my house! i can do what i want with my own fucking stuff in my own fucking apartment, nance, i don’t— uh…”

pretty boy’s face blossoms rose petal red, a heavy blush creeping up his jawline as he catches himself mid rant and folds in on himself, crossing his arms over his chest with a sheepish expression.

eddie’s always had a thing for shepherding.

“i’m listening,” he says, popping a cigarette in his mouth and holding the pack out in offering. “if you care to vent.”

the guy — steve, eddie finds out — tells him all about his controlling ex-girlfriend as they work their way through two cigarettes each, the sun slipping away to reveal a full topaz moon, big and low and close, ripe citrus bending the branch of a tree. nance was a real piece of work by the sounds of it, and eddie feels like an absolute shit for the way he treated steve, who had apparently just gotten dumped the night before they met and had been out shopping for a “please take me back” present.

“like that was ever gonna work,” steve mumbles, ashing over the railing. “pathetic. anyway, sorry i was rude to you that day or whatever.”

“you weren’t.”

“nah, i was.” steve shifts his weight, knocks their shoulders together. “not that you didn’t deserve it.”

“yeahhhh,” eddie agrees, cringing at himself. “sorry.”

“all good. so what’s your story then, huh? who pissed in your cheerios that day?”

eddie blames the alcohol fumes wafting from steve’s cup — a justification that makes perfect sense and would totally hold up in a court of law — for what he says next.

“honestly? you.”

steve’s face is so cartoonishly offended that eddie busts out laughing, eyes crinkling, head thrown back.

“oh, so you’re just an asshole,” steve nods sagely. “first cute guy to flirt with me in six weeks is a lunatic. love that for me.”

“no, i—” eddie laughs, “okay, we’re coming back to how you think i’m cute, but i just meant, uh-”

oh, fuck it. eddie’s never been good at holding his cards close to the chest. more of a 52 pick up kinda guy, historically, and why change now?

“you were so gorgeous it, like, genuinely upset me for a second,” eddie admits, running his tongue over his lip. he stubs out his cigarette; turns to look right at steve. “like, uh, like cuteness aggression or some shit.”

steve mirrors his posture, leaning an elbow on the railing, nearly chest to chest. “so you are crazy,” he smiles.

“that’s correct.” eddie swallows.

steve moves in to close the gap. “good crazy?”

“fun crazy, so i’m told.”

“i’m gonna kiss you if that’s cool.”

“very”

the kiss tastes like ripe citrus

#steddie #steddie headcanons #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #buckingham #enemies to lovers

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