#awkward yet also sexy?
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lena-in-a-red-dress · 8 months ago
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Blue and Fire Engine Red, Pt 2
Kara shuts the door of her car shut behind her, and smoothes her sweating palms down the front of her jeans. She should have stayed in uniform, she thinks. She’s no longer on shift, but she always feels more confident with a badge pinned to her chest. As it is, wearing jeans and a tee shirt, she feels exposed, as though anyone looking at her would be able to see just how fast her heart is racing.
But she’s come this far-- she can see this through. Exhaling deeply, Kara starts the short walk up the drive to the firehouse’s open bay doors. As she crosses the threshold sounds of activity fills her ears. She glimpses firefighters rolling hoses and mounting them on the engine, and others are buffing the chrome bumper of the ambulance. She catches the eye of one, she thinks she recognizes him from multiple calls– Brainy, she’s heard the others call him. He brightens at the sight of her, and to her horror comes trotting over to greet her. 
“You are approximately 32 minutes late, Sergeant Danvers,” he says precisely. He clasps his hands behind his back. 
“I–I’m sorry?” Kara asks. She hadn’t told anyone she was coming, let alone what time she planned to show up.
“Since I glimpsed you conversing with Lieutenant Reilly, I anticipated you would seek her out. Seeing as your shift ended one hour ago, and the precinct is 30 minutes from the firehouse, you are, by my calculations, late.”
Kara blinks. “There was traffic on the freeway… how did you–?”
“The lieutenant can be found in the gym,” Brainy clips, extending an arm towards the far corner of the engine bay. There, Kara glimpses a glass paneled wall and the outline of a pull-down machine. 
“Thank you,” Kara issues numbly.
“You are most welcome.” Brainy then turns and returns to the ambulance and his chores. By now Kara’s thundering heart has climbed to her throat, but it;s too late to back out now that she’s been seen.
Kara wipes her palms again, nodding to herself. “You can do this,” she murmurs. “Look sharp, Danvers.”
Kara follows the hum treadmills and the clink of weights to the back right corner, where a glass paneled room sat under the spiraling staircase up to the second floor. There she stops, mesmerized by a dark swinging ponytail. Lena.
Lena running.
Lena running in a tank top and spandex shorts. Muscled arms swing in rhythm with her bobbing head, and Kara can glimpse round earbuds nestled in her ears. 
She almost turns away, if only to keep from getting caught ogling. But a sweaty towel smacks Lena in the side of the head, pulling her attention to the young woman smirking off to Kara’s left. Nia, is it?
“Got a visitor, LT!”
Lena’s head swivels towards Kara without breaking stride. Her sweaty features brighten at the sight of her. 
“Sergeant Danvers!” she chirps. She hops onto the strats of the treadmill, taking a moment to tap the machine off before stepping down entirely. She uses Nia’s towel to wipe her glistening face and neck, her breath huffing lightly. Kara’s mouth goes dry. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
Kara blinks, giving herself a little shake to re-orientate herself. Then she gives as easy a grin as she can manage. “And give up a free autograph? Not on your life.”
A smirk crosses Lena’s features as Nia steps up to stand at her shoulder. “Autograph?”
Kara plucks her calendar from her bag, giving it a playful flourish. Nia’s brow furrows, then lifts in delight.
“Oh my god! Miss March has a fan?!”
Lena turns towards her coworker with a roll of her eyes. “Nal…”
“Yeah?” 
“Give us a minute, will you?”
“But–!” 
“Nia.”
Nia sighs. “Fiiiiine…” She grabs her water and phone from beside the weight bench, and all but prances out with a smug, knowing smile in Kara’s direction. “Nice seeing you, Sergeant.”
They wait until Nia slips out, leaning them together with nothing but charged air between them. Kara gazes at Lena, who gives a soft smile in return. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Lena smiles back. Her cheeks are flushed, and Kara feels a glimmer of satisfaction at the thought it might not be entirely from exertion. 
“So…” she says. “I have a place or two in mind for that drink. Someplace… friendly.”
Lena gives a slow nod. “I like friendly.”
“Someplace where we could get some privacy.”
Another nod, this time accompanied by a deliberate step forward. “Privacy is good.”
“And, ahhh… one of them just so happens to be walking distance from my place.”
Dark eyebrows lift in surprise, and suddenly Kara finds herself awkwardly trying to reel herself back.
“I mean, you know, in case we can’t drive after. I didn’t mean to imply– not that I expected… um, that.”
Pressing her lips together, Lena waits for Kara to talk herself out. It serves to jolt Kara back into herself; she chuckles. “You going to cut me a break here or what?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” Lena returns, grinning. “I’m curious to see how far we’re not going to go on this date.”
Kara laughs. “Okay, okay. Look– what I mean is that I don’t expect anything more than a drink to get to know you better. That’s all.”
With a slow nod, Lena saunters even closer. “Message received,” she murmurs smoothly. “That said…”
She leans in close, until Kara can smell the tantalizing tang of sweat and the subtle fragrance of Lena’s shampoo. Her heart pounds so hard there’s no way Lena can’t hear it.
“If any of that,” Lena continues, “were to follow… I wouldn’t be averse to it.”
Unable to help her answering grin, Kara cocks her head. “Well, before we even get to that, we do have one order of business to get to first.”
She flips the calendar tauntingly between them, even going so far as to let the thing tap against Lena’s chest when she waggles it playfully. Lena glances down sharply, clearly having forgotten the “true” purpose of Kara’s visit. She throws her head back and laughs a full belly laugh that turns Kara’s insides to jello.
“Guess I’ll have to rustle up something to sign that with–”
A marker flies out of nowhere, bouncing off of Lena’s chest. She fumbles to catch it, and Kara lunges for it on reflex. Their heads crack together audibly, and they both stagger apart, cursing.
“Jesus fuck–!”
“Godammit!”
Nia’s voice calls cheerily from outside. “You’re welcome!”
Kara locks eyes with Lena, who grimaces at her. 
“You said something about privacy?”
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foldingfittedsheets · 5 months ago
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I’d like to entertain and enliven you now with the saga of my Slut Era.
I’ve always been a serial monogamist and my shortest long term relationships clocked in at three years. So perhaps that’s why when I finally broke it off with my ex I went insane on dating. Part of it was definitely just that between anxiety and loneliness I wanted to fill up my time.
This happened when I was living alone for the first time, no roommates, just me and my little cat Leeloo. I didn’t want to come home to an empty house so instead I set up dates.
Most of these were disastrous. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and I had a lot more first dates than second because they’d seen enough, including the one where people aggressively complimented me.
But after a few months I had four people I was seeing simultaneously. I was up front with all of them that things were not exclusive, and they all agreed, so no infidelity took place here, just a lot of hijinks.
Here’s who was on the dating roster:
• An apprentice woodworker that we’ll call Jill. I honestly thought at 26 years old that her being 21 wasn’t a problem age gap and I quickly learned that there was a vast gulf of both maturity and life experience between us. Jill described herself as “heteroflexible” and had just dumped her first boyfriend to flirt it up with me.
• A married woman looking for a friends with benefits. We’ll call her Alice. I insisted on meeting her husband first to be sure I wasn’t part of a cheating mess and he gave me his blessing when I stayed over at her house. Years later when he and Alice had divorced I would go on to sell him and his new fiancée an engagement ring and we both realized at the end how we knew each other and it was wildly awkward. Alice was nice, but a hardcore vegan who insisted I brush my teeth if I so much as ate string cheese before I could kiss her. She was also unhappy in her marriage and was feeling out if I’d want to get serious.
• A bartender dubbed Snakebites, so called because of her signature piercings. She cooked me a steak so raw it was still mooing and some of the best asparagus I’d ever had. In our singular sexy encounter she bit my nipple and I never got over it. Really don't bite someone if you don't know their preference and work up in pressure. We weren’t terribly compatible but neither of us were willing to admit it yet. Truthfully I considered still dating her solely because I desperately wanted her bathroom. It had all black tile, black toilet, black sink, a rain shower in the corner and a jacuzzi tub. I may not have loved her but god I loved that bathroom.
And finally,
• My beloved, who I would go on to marry, who was dealing with a lot of personal stuff at the time. Obviously that meant I liked them the best of all the people I was seeing because we were both disasters at the time.
So that’s the cast of this little misadventure. Now, our story begins with Jill.
Jill was someone who heightened my anxiety. Each of the three times she came to my home she brought and left more stuff. A self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans collection of DVDs. It was like she was trying to move in. She also liked to deride my taste in things, frequently calling me a pleb when I mentioned a band or show I liked.
She was working on a gorgeous little decorative table in her woodworking program. The main wood for the top had a beautiful dapple of knots like jaguar spots, and when she showed me a picture I exclaimed how pretty it was.
“Do you want it?”
“Oh- I mean it’s lovely, I wouldn’t mind having it, but you should sell it and make some money!”
But she was adamant. She’d give me the little side table. At about this time, Alice was starting to get awfully lovey for a FWB. I knew she wasn’t happy with her husband but I also knew we were not a good fit. Fun fact: Alice and her husband were step siblings with a pretty hefty age gap. They got together when he stumbled upon a kink photo shoot she’d done with vegetables. None of their family was happy about the relationship but they weren’t related by blood so it was fine.
So I was fending off more overt romantic advances from Alice, and feeling increasingly like I needed to break things off with Jill. Snakebites wasn’t ever initiating communication and I decided to pull a lot of plugs at once.
I ghosted Snakebites, told Alice that I thought we should cool it, and in a move worthy of a rom-com I asked my beloved if I could pretend we were exclusive to put off Jill. They agreed and I texted Jill to let her know that I was no longer single.
I was not prepared for Jill’s response. She. Was. Devastated. She flew off the handle. She’d just been waiting for the right time to tell me how she felt about me! How dare I do this to her!
What about the table?!
“You should keep the table, it’s gorgeous, you’ll be able to sell it, but I don’t expect a free table.”
Silence met me after that text. I worried and fretted and eventually headed home.
There on my doorstep. The table.
It was a small little end table, reeking of oil and polish, but very beautiful. I brought it inside. The little drawer didn’t even have a knob or guide rails. But it did have a handwritten bill proclaiming that it was costing me $500.
“I can’t afford a $500 table, Jill!” I texted.
“Well you kept saying how nice it was. I spent a lot of time on it.”
“I’m not saying it’s not worth $500” (it wasn’t, it was a tiny side table made by an apprentice) “but I can’t buy a $500 table.”
“Make me an offer.”
I stared at the little table. I did actually like it, but I worried about the repercussions of entering into this deal. Hesitantly I typed back, “$300.” I didn’t think it was worth that much but I didn’t want to insult her too badly.
This suited her for the night. But the next day she informed me she needed a new bed, and that she’d take her $300 in credit toward a new mattress. I spent the whole next day basically wrangling with her over what she wanted and eventually she spiked back up to demanding $500 for the damn table.
“Let me just give it back,” I begged. It was not the first, second, or even third time I’d asked to return the thing but this time she finally relented and gave me her address. Since she lived with her parents still I’d never been over.
I called up my beloved and said, “Hey, I need moral support, can you run an errand with me?”
They agreed which is how we loaded up a self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans DVD collection, and the table from hell into my little car together. Jill had said to meet her at one o'clock. I intended to drop everything off at noon and be done with this madness.
But while my beloved and I were on the doorstep leaving everything I heard, “Jill? You’re home early,” through the door. Her mom opened it to peer at us in confusion.
“I was just bringing Jill’s stuff back!” I chirped in alarm.
With little tact and a lot of speed we left her with Jill’s collection of things and then I sped out of there like my tail was on fire. I handed my phone to my beloved as I zoomed away instructing them to block Jill’s number. I was free. The tabletross around my neck had been returned.
It was about a month after that when my beloved and I officially began dating exclusively. I had wrapped up all my messy dating threads and it was a relief to be in a relationship again. They went on a trip to Mexico shortly after we made it official.
So I knew they were out of town. But next morning I walked out to my car and beheld a lipstick kiss pressed to the drivers side window.
I was petrified. I had just dumped three girls at once and had an extremely messy back and forth with one of them. Did I have a stalker?!
Of the girls, Alice seemed like likeliest candidate, being of a stronger lipstick variety girl than Jill or Snakebites. We had ended things a bit stiffly, but still cordial. She just laughed when I asked if she knew anything about it. “Nope,” she said, “but good luck.”
I’d rather have walked over broken glass then text Jill, and I’d firmly ghosted Snakebites so I was scared to reopen communication to ask if she was stalking me. I had to drop it. But it haunted me, that lipstick kiss.
For months I was jumpy, wondering which of my spurned lovers had done it. And why. Was it a threat? A goodbye? I lay awake thinking about it, worrying about how everyone I’d dated knew where I lived, which car was mine.
Finally, nothing else happened and I moved on. The kiss would remain a mystery and I had to be content with that.
It was a year later when I finally started filling my mom in on my dating escapades that I finally got closure. She was hooting and laughing as I went over the table debacle. Then I paused and added, “And then this kiss showed up on my car.”
“Did you like it?”
“What? No! I’m pretty sure one of them was stalking me! Who else would leave a kiss on my car?”
My mom started bellowing with laughter. “I did!” She wheezed.
Apparently. My mother had been driving by my place. And decided that a cute little gesture would be to leave me a kiss. And then decided to never mention it to me even though she’s never done anything like that previously.
“It scared the crap out of me!” I yelled while she collapsed with helpless laughter. “I thought I had a stalker! How could I possibly have known that was you?!”
“How could I have known you’d just broken up with three girls at once?” She wheezed in rejoinder and like. Fair play.
So that’s how my mom convinced me I had a stalker and I got out of buying a $500 table.
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mariasont · 6 months ago
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My Boss Won't Be Happy About This - A.H
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a/n: back to bimbo brain rot!!!! inspired by the first season that one episode (you know the one) where hotch is all macho man with elle in jamaica
masterlist
₊˚ ✩°。⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆。°✩˚₊‧
pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader
summary: you’re wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it
warnings: creepy officer, inaccuracies of how law enforcement works, hotch being sexy
wc: 1.3k
"Listen I'm not the type of girl to tell someone how to do their job, but I just don't think you're doing it right."
You were speaking to an empty room, or at least, you were speaking to the mirror in front of you. It's the kind of mirror you had seen in countless interrogation scenes, the kind you usually image Hotch standing behind. You let your gaze linger, wondering if eyes are studying you from the other side, listening to your monologue.
"Well, that, and I also just don't think it's very nice." Your brand spanking new heels were tapping against the dirty floor. 
You weren't happy about that. You weren't happy about any of this. Your feet ache, but the fear of the germs lurking on the floor paralyzes any thoughts of relief by removing your shoes.
"And hey, shouldn't I get a phone call? That's a rule, I think," you mumble, lips turning downward in an unusual frown. It seems like the right time for it. "My boss is not going to take this well. I mean, he's got this look, you know? The kind that makes you want to apologize for things you didn't even do."
You conjured up his daunting expression and released a jittery laugh, all while striving to disregard the biting cold blasting from the AC vent, which seemed determine to freeze you into place. 
You were seriously out of your element, not just in surroundings but in dress--so form-fitting it left very little to the imagination. It seemed to be a good idea for a date. That was before you realized said date would be a complete disaster. Now, it felt like a trap. It had been a spectacle for a man unworthy of the effort, and as you sat in this rigid chair, you found yourself tugging at the hem every other moment, a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of modesty.
"So, when he hears about this little error... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Six hours had passed in this dreary space, and you could feel your sanity fraying at the edges. You muttered, half to yourself, "Not that they're as cute as mine, but you get the point."
The door hinge's creak made you sit bolt upright, a silent supplication for Hotch's rescue echoing through your mind. But today, it seemed, the gods were indifferent. The officer who had arrested you stepped in.
"Having fun talking to yourself?"
You flashed your sweetest smile. "Oh, tons! But I'd have much more fun if you'd uncuff me."
He said nothing, folding his arms over his chest as he dragged his gaze up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle in discomfort. You attempted to dispel the creeping dread, but it stubbornly lingered.
You did what you could to cover up, despite the awkward angle of your arms. "Listen, this is all just a big mistake. I work for the FBI," you insisted, though it was clear the officer's attention was fixated on your tits rather than your words. "Well, I mean, I'm an assistant for the unit chief of the BAU unit. You've heard of Aaron Hotchner, haven't you?"
The officer's mouth closed without a word, as the door was thrust open yet again, and this time, your heart leapt in recognition. Your knight in shining armor with a lethal expression.
His eyes instantly zeroed in on the officer with a look that could curdle blood, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that you weren't the object of his anger. He approached you wordlessly, his every motion precise and determined.
He carefully shed his jacket, a gesture he seldom made, and draped it across your shoulders. The fleeting caress of his hand against your skin was enough to make you lean into his touch. You let out a breath that you had been unconsciously holding back. 
You watched as Hotch turned, his voice a low, steady force, his words carefully chosen and tinged with an unsettling peace. "Officer," he began, the title spoken almost as warning. "I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. This woman is not only an esteemed member of the FBI, but she is also under my direct supervision."
He stepped closer, encroaching on the officer's personal space. You watched, almost in slow motion, as the officer's expression morphed into one of sheer terror, his earlier confidence dissolving like sugar in hot tea.
"Six hours," he continued, his voice never rising yet somehow it took up all the space in the confined room. "Six hours of unwarranted detention, without due process. I expect her immediate release. And make no mistake, this lapse in judgment will have its ramifications."
The officer was mute, his fingers clumsily unlocking the handcuffs, his movements hurried, his hands trembling. A twinge of pity flickered within you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the memory of considering the table as a makeshift blanket.
The moment the metal clicked open; you wasted no time. You flung your arms around Hotch, the pent relief and biting chill of the past few hours pouring out of you. You were desperate for warmth, specifically his warmth.
He stiffened, caught off guard by your actions. You feel the anger radiating through him, practically pulsing through his skin. As you clung to him, you felt the draft on your legs as your dress slid up, and without missing a beat Hotch's hand discreetly adjusted the fabric, all while keeping his eyes locked on the officer, a silent warning in his gaze.
Once he was certain you were decently covered, he allowed himself to draw him into his arms. One arm secured around your waist, the other weaving through your hair. You were cold. It renewed another tide of rage through his bloodstream.
With the officer's departure, the room's oppressive atmosphere lightened a touch, leaving you still latched onto your boss.
"Oh, sir, you wouldn't believe it," you started, his hands tracing up your spine and sparking a trail of goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. "They kept asking me about a heist, as if I'd know anything about that! And then they show me this picture, and I mean, sure, she had my hair, but that's about it."
You rambled on, and he let you, the absurdity of the situation pouring out in a stream of consciousness. Hotch's hold on you tightened. You could sense the coiled tension in him, a tempest of anger held a bay.
"And the room, it was so cold! I mean, I'm sure you can tell. My teeth were chattering, and all I could think of was how I'd rather be filing your paperwork or listening to Reid's factoids about the quantum mechanics of coffee beans."
You felt Hotch's breath on your hair as he let out a sigh. 
"I'm just glad you're here now," you whispered, finally allowing yourself to relax in his embrace.
Hotch gave a curt nod, his jaw set. He was itching to confront the officer, to unleash a tirade not meant for your ears. But he was well aware of how much you needed him right now, and that trumped everything in his book.
Hotch took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "This isn't just incompetence; it's negligence. I will have this place reevaluated for its standards, or lack thereof."
You took a step back, hands still resting on his arms, and he maintained his grip on your waist. "I bet this is the last time you'll let me go on a date without a full background check on the guy, huh, sir?"
Hotch's hold on your waist firmed just a fraction. "Maybe it's the last time I let you go on a date, period."
He was only half-joking.
"Not even with you?" You tilted your head to meet his gaze, drawing his jacket closer around you.
Hotch just simply gives you that look, the one that says a thousand words without a sound. He's telling you to tread lightly.
"Alright, I'll be good," you giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Can you take me home now, please?"
He nods, "Yeah, let's get you home."
And then he leads you out, thinking to himself that the next person to take you out will be him, but that's for him to know and you to find out later.
taglist: @hotchhner @khxna
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lisired · 2 months ago
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DREAM BOYS: slut me out
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pairing: shy!jisung x (f) reader
genre/warnings: smut, unprotected sex (before you tap it make sure you wrap it), oral (m) receiving, switch!jisung, switch!reader (at least i think so… i wanna say there’s not really strong dom/sub dynamics here)
summary: The Dream Boys are notorious for banging everything on campus with a pulse and breaking hearts, but every time you see Jisung, you can’t help but think he’s nothing like them; he can barely even look into your eyes.
word count: 5.3k
a/n: i wrote this on a whim lol. as always, feedback is appreciated!
If I was a bad bitch,
I’d wanna fuck me too
There was something about Park Jisung that confused you to no end. 
For one, you wondered how a boy could be so awkward. You weren’t even this bad at your peak of social ineptitude, but he somehow seemed to always be shy and blushing. 
The most baffling thing about him, however, wasn’t just his timid personality and lack of confidence around the opposite sex. It was his ability to get along so well with people who were the complete opposite of him. 
Everybody at your school knew him and his friends collectively as the Dream Boys and they were notorious on campus for allegedly fucking every girl they set their sights on. You had no way of knowing how true that was, but based on nothing but vibes alone, most of them you didn’t doubt one bit. 
Mark, the sweet boy who posted bible quotes on his story every morning. Jeno, the intelligent one who obviously didn’t buy his way into college. Jaemin, the campus heartthrob everyone wanted to bring home to Mama. And Haechan, the party boy who was never not hungover. 
But Jisung was something different entirely. You had no idea why he hung out with them at all. Your interactions with him had been limited thus far, but he stammered out every sentence he spoke and could hardly maintain eye contact. 
There was no way in hell he was a whore. 
The school library had unfortunately become your second home over the past few weeks and you were lounging at a table with your friends when Ryujin whispered, “Looks like the Dream Boys are throwing another Halloween party this year. I hope there’s no more cum punch rumors. I almost threw up because of that shit.”
Yuna winced. Those rumors had positively ruined the drinking last year for everybody. “Dream Boys? More like fuckboys.”
You snickered. You didn’t have a clue where the name came from, but you couldn’t resist quipping, “And what did you think they dreamed about?”
“Pussy,” she answered without hesitation.
You laughed again. The boys were handsome, you would give them that, but they also gave the impression that they were carrying sexually transmitted infections yet to be unearthed by health authorities. 
Ryujin seemed like she was reading from her phone, probably gathering more information about the aforementioned party, and soon enough she chirped, “No worries, guys. Haechan just posted that there will not be any cum punch, but everyone should watch their drink.”
“I won’t be attending,” you replied with total disinterest. “Have fun potentially drinking some random dude’s kids.”
Ryujin groaned, but she had been expecting that response. It was no secret you had something against those boys because of their fuckboy reputation and while she didn’t blame you for that, she didn’t see it as an excuse to skip out on harmless fun. “You’re so boring.”
You shrugged, indifferent. “If boring means spending my free time watching Shemar Moore chase bad guys in two different universes, both of which he’s incredibly sexy in, instead of risking my tongue falling off, then I’ll be that.”
“You both are disgusting,” Yuna said in disapproval. “You want to fuck someone’s bald dad and Ryujin wants to fuck Haechan.”
Ryujin gawked. “That’s a lie!”
Yuna wasn’t convinced. “Admit it. The only reason you want to go to this party after last year’s fiasco is because you know Haechan will be there and you want to suck his dick until the foreskin dries up like a raisin.”
You made a face. The graphic description was putting unholy pictures in your mind that you would rather not see. “Yeah, I’m gonna go. You girls got that,” you told them as you rose from the table, tossing your bag over your shoulder. “I will see you guys when I emerge from my Netflix binging.”
Meanwhile, Jisung was by himself in the break room of the local cafe he worked at trying desperately to think of something that would undo the boner in his pants before his co-workers saw him and teased him to hell and back. It wasn’t even because of a pretty customer this time. He was just daydreaming. 
Was it a smart thing to do while he was at work? No, maybe not. But he couldn’t help it. His mind had been filled with perverted thoughts lately. It was the second week of October and Jisung was attempting to get all of the sexual frustration out of his system before the start of No Nut November.
He had been the first one to lose last year. And the year before that. And the year before that. This year, he needed a turnaround. 
When his boner wouldn’t go down as soon as he’d hoped, Jisung ultimately decided to go wank it in the bathroom as quietly as possible and got back to work. And to his luck, you were standing right there at the counter waiting for someone to take your order. 
Jisung swallowed when he saw you. He had always found you gorgeous and seeing you after orgasming made his brain short-circuit. With a little plan to increase his body count another digit, he went up to the counter and put on his shyest performance. “Hello. What can I get for you today?”
Your brows furrowed. He didn’t sound as bashful as he looked. That said, he sounded like he was donning his customer service voice, and everybody knew that the person you were at work didn’t reflect your true self. “Hi, can I get the Jasmine green tea, please?”
Jisung kept his eyes trained to the screen the entire time, even though he wanted nothing more than to look at you. “Sure thing. Would you like any add-ons?”
“Tapioca pearls. Extra, please.”
God, the way you kept saying, “Please,” was driving him crazy. He knew you were simply being polite, which was more than he could say about some customers he got, but it was making him picture other situations where he could have you begging for him. 
“Will that be everything?” Jisung asked as if his thoughts hadn’t wandered somewhere dangerous.
You nodded your head, taking out your card. “That’s it.”
While you were temporarily distracted by having to pay, Jisung took the opportunity to get a better look at you. His eyes flitted to your lips that were coated in a clear gloss which made them look plumper. It was all he could do not to think about how perfect they would look wrapped around his cock.
“I heard you and your friends are throwing a party tonight,” you mentioned, waiting for your order to be processed. Not that you gave a damn. You just wanted something to talk about. 
Jisung was pleased you didn’t seem to notice his less than clean thoughts, but when you mentioned the party, he stifled a groan. “Yeah, I can’t go. I have a closing shift.”
“Damn, that must suck,” you replied, watching the hint of annoyance spread across his face. “When do you guys close, by the way? I was thinking about getting some work done.”
“We close at nine,” Jisung told you matter-of-factly. “Don’t you usually work in the library?”
You lifted a brow, smiling softly. “Are you keeping tabs?”
Jisung glanced away. Make no mistake, he wasn’t stalking you or anything, but he did happen to see you in the library whenever he popped inside. You were there more often than not. “I see you around every now and then.”
You hummed. “To answer your question, I do usually work in the library, but my friends are being insufferable today and I knew I wasn’t gonna get any work done around them, so I hopped ship.”
Jisung nodded his head in understanding. “Yeah, I get it. My friends are pretty annoying at times too.”
You had an obvious disdain for boys in his group, but for some reason, you were always so nice to him. It was almost as if you had some kind of soft spot. Jisung wondered if he could manipulate that kindness. He figured you must have assumed he wasn’t as bad as the men he surrounded himself with, which couldn’t have been more wrong, but you didn’t need to know that. 
There was no opportunity for you to give him a response, because his co-worker placed your drink in front of you, saying, “Here you go, one Jasmine green tea, extra tapioca pearls.”
You thanked them and glanced back at Jisung, telling him, “I’m gonna go find a seat,” and walked away. 
Jisung was disappointed, but it was better than you leaving. And in truth, it wasn’t so bad, because it gave him a little more time to think of a way of getting you to go home with him. He didn’t want to lose for the fourth year in a row since he started college, and you were a beautiful girl that thought highly of him for whatever reason. 
You were still lingering in the cafe a few hours later and it was that time of night where Jisung had to start excessively wiping counters to appear busy, because he didn’t expect many more customers. 
But you were the only customer in sight and he was the only employee at this hour, so he approached your table and inhaled a deep breath. “Hey, do you mind if I ask you something?”
You glanced up at him, wanting to giggle at how nervous he seemed for whatever reason, but resisting. “Sure.”
Jisung started fidgeting with the rings on his long fingers, which drew your attention to his hands, specifically how big they were. “Can I sit down?”
You wordlessly nodded over at the seat in front of you. 
With one more small glance in the direction of the door, which didn’t appear to be welcoming more customers any time soon, Jisung slid into the booth. You both sat there in silence until he finally willed himself to speak. “So, I was wondering… can I ask you a favor?”
You were tempted to respond with, I wasn’t aware I owed you any. But you were very curious to know where this was going, so you decided to let him get straight to the point. “Depends. What’s the favor?”
“Promise not to tell anyone?” he asked. 
“Sure, I’ll promise,” you replied, nodding. “As long as you’re not about to ask me to hide a body.”
That threw Jisung off guard and he quickly shook his head. “What? No, of course not. Look, uh, I need a favor from you, but it’s something kinda…”
Pushing down the top of your laptop, you held your face in your hands and gave Jisung your undivided attention. You were beginning to suspect that it was a favor of a sexual nature. 
When you looked at him like that, Jisung glanced away. “It’s kinda embarrassing to say, but I was wondering… if I could come to your house.”
Now that was definitely a surprise. “My house?”
Jisung nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Yeah, that’s what I was wondering. I’m sorry, I know it’s weird. I just…”
Your brows furrowed. Jisung had been to your apartment before. Once. Twice, if you counted him having to come back because he forgot his notebook. Either way, you weren’t necessarily friends and it only happened because of an assignment, the fact that the library had been completely packed, and your apartment was nearby. 
“Why?”
“Well… I wanted to know if you could help me with something.”
“You’re so vague,” you teased. “What do you need?”
Jisung exhaled a breath and decided he was just going to come out and say what he meant. “Listen, this is gonna be kinda weird, and if you say no I completely understand and will leave you alone for the rest of my life. But me and my friends are preparing for No Nut November and…”
“And you want to get all of the horny juice out of your system so you don’t nut on the first day like a loser,” you finished for him. It wasn’t that hard to guess, all things considered. “You know it doesn’t work like that, right?”
“It does,” he insisted. He said nothing else, waiting for you to either agree to blessing his cock tonight or let him suffer, and hoping you chose the former. 
You had already made your mind up, but you pretended to be uncertain, shrugging your shoulders. “Why me?”
Much to your surprise, Jisung didn’t skip a beat. “You’re the only girl I didn’t think would judge me.”
And that was exactly how he won you over, because you hurriedly began packing up your things to go home and get a shower before Jisung could get there. Maybe shave too. You didn’t go bald, but a little trim had never hurt anybody. 
Almost the very second his shift ended, Jisung was in his car growing increasingly more frustrated at every encountered red light as he drove as fast as he possibly could without going over the speed limit. 
When he rang the doorbell, you almost immediately answered the door, wearing nothing but a shirt that looked far too big for someone of your stature. “What took you so long?” you asked, widening the door so he could enter. 
“Lots of traffic tonight,” Jisung replied, waltzing inside your house as if his heart wasn’t thumping in his chest at the idea of getting fucked. 
You closed the door and led him to the bedroom. The soft, feminine smell of your body wash clung to you and the scent was already driving him crazy with lust. 
Jisung glanced around your bedroom, happy to be back here again. The last time he was inside your bedroom, he’d seen your panties spilling out of their drawer and it had taken everything in him to focus on the assignment at hand. 
His eyes fell to your delicious legs which were smooth and shiny. No doubt you had just gotten out of the shower. You got ready for him, which had to count for something. You had consented to fucking him, after all, so your interest in him couldn’t have been any more blatant. 
You plopped on your bed, noticing the way he was drinking in the sight of you. “Don’t just stand there,” you said, stifling a giggle. 
Jisung swallowed the unignorable lump in his throat. “What do you want me to do?”
You hummed, pretending to think about it. “Come here.”
He took tentative steps towards your bed. It was adorably pink and fluffy, and he almost felt bad for knowing it was going to be ruined by the time he returned home. Then, he started thinking about what else was pink, and from that point on his mind began reeling with lewd thoughts. 
You had to pull Jisung onto the bed, shoving him onto his back. The gasp he made was cut off by your lips smashing against his as you kissed him like your life depended on it, gently tugging on his black hair. You didn’t want to hurt him, but at the same time, that was exactly what you wanted. 
It pleasantly surprised you that Jisung was a decent kisser. You could tell he had some kind of experience, which was fair since he was a grown man with very obvious needs, and your panties were pooling with arousal when his hands drifted to your waist as you straddled him, pulling you flush against his rapidly hardening cock. 
As if he wasn’t already struggling to breathe enough, you broke the kiss and began trailing your lips faintly over his jaw. Then his neck. Then his collarbone. He figured you would go down again to his chest, but you went back to his throat and started sucking and nibbling at the flesh. 
“Fuck,” Jisung panted, already worked up and you had barely done anything together so far. He was sure you could feel how hard he was, given that he was pressed right against you, but you went about kissing him as if you had no clue. 
His reactions did make you giggle smugly though, quite proud of yourself. The marks you were leaving at the base of his neck were going to be there for days. Maybe weeks. The room felt hotter now that you were making such a mess of him. He brought his hands up from your perfect waist to your under your shirt, his fingers ghosting over your breasts. 
It was your turn to gasp out. The soft sounds you made did wonders to turn him on. He cupped your chest in his big palms and let his thumb work over the stiffened nipple. All the while, you were beginning to grind against his bulge as your lips wandered here and there, drawing a guttural groan from Jisung’s throat. 
“Oh my god,” he said, stilling your hips with his strong hands. Something your body liked more than you cared to admit.
You met his eyes. They were filled with lust and desire and impatience. “Are you okay?”
Jisung nodded his head, glancing at your body. He was hoping you would get out of that shirt sooner than later. He wanted to see you. “It’s just…,” he trailed, his voice faint. “I’ve never done this before.”
You didn’t gawk. You didn’t laugh. There was no amusement nor was there any surprise. “That’s okay. We can take things slow, if you want.”
“I’d rather not. I like things fast,” Jisung insisted. 
You laughed. “Well, that can be arranged too. Have you ever had a blowjob?”
The thought of you sucking his cock alone nearly made a cold shudder wreck through Jisung’s body. “Once,” he said, trying to keep his composure. “It was a long time ago.”
“Now, we can’t have that,” you replied, crawling off of him to bring your attention to the very prominent bulge in his pants. You could tell he was big and that thought had you salivating. 
Jisung undid his pants hurriedly and tossed them to the ground like they meant nothing, giving you plenty enough time to ruffle through your drawer for something to tie your hair back with. 
With your hair out of the way, you patiently sat on your knees as he got just naked enough that you would be able to suck him off. Maybe deep down you had always wanted to. Jisung was exactly the type of guy you were into - the ones that looked away when a pretty girl complimented them and had a beautiful, shy smile. 
It didn’t surprise you that his cock was just as veiny as his hands were, but it did make your mouth run dry. 
“Sweet Jesus,” you mumbled underneath your breath, knowing that you were in for a treat. 
Jisung resisted a smirk. He knew he had a brag-worthy cock that was enough to make any woman lose her everlasting mind, whether she was going down on him or he was going inside her. You were no exception. Matter of fact, all it took was one look before you got a hold of his cock and spat on his pretty tip. 
He swore quietly, watching you attentively. There wasn’t even a need to get him hard because he had already stiffened from the way you were kissing him and grinding against his dick, so you got straight to work. 
You skipped the slow parts - the teasing bits with your tongue at the tip and base of his cock, and immediately went to the action. Jisung said he liked things fast and so that was exactly what you would give him. And he was going to take it like he’d asked.
“Shit. Shit. Fuck,” he cursed, clutching the sheets. You weren’t wasting any time and he almost couldn’t believe it. 
You hadn’t even waited before taking as much of him into your mouth as you could and that made Jisung’s head spin like he was about to explode. And in a way, that wasn’t necessarily untrue. He already knew this was going to be one of his shorter experiences, but definitely one of his better orgasms. 
Jisung groaned loudly. It was a shock, because he was one of the quietest boys you’d ever met, so it wasn’t too hard for you to guess that he was currently enjoying himself. The sound of his euphoric noises were making you horny and you could feel your panties getting even wetter. 
You wanted to fuck him so bad. It was killing you right now. He was just so perfect; so handsome and cute and easy to provoke. You wanted to draw the most sexy, uncontrollable reactions from him and watch what it did to his little male brain. 
Jisung could tell how much you wanted him and it only aroused him more. You were so fucking eager. You were going to town, sucking him off like you were in love with him, like you were worshiping him, and it got him off to an inexplicable extent. He couldn’t even begin to describe how your mouth felt sealed around him like you wanted to suck him completely dry. 
You ran your hands up his stomach, up his thighs. He was sensitive in more places than one, your touches making his breath hitch in his throat. 
“I’m gonna come,” he warned, knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with all the stunts you were pulling.
Damn, already, you thought to yourself, wanting to chuckle. Not that you were actually even remotely surprised. You knew what you were doing; you were ruining him and taking a little piece of him to serve as a reminder of your victory. 
You didn’t slow down. If anything, you went even faster, your head bobbing up and down his shaft like you wanted to eat him for every meal of every goddamn day. Jisung winced his eyes clothed and accepted his fate, knowing he was merely seconds away from the heat in his stomach unfurling. 
With the last piece of his self-control officially waning now that you were sucking his dick like you had something to prove, Jisung involuntarily began thrusting into your mouth, messily fucking your throat with every intention of getting himself off. You let him. At the moment, you were just pleased you’d driven him mad. 
And that you knew for sure, because the buildup of ecstasy at short last began to overflow and Jisung couldn’t take it anymore. He gave one final long, deep moan as he released down your throat and clasped your sheets for purchase, convulsing with the effort. 
Jisung was shaking. When his eyes finally opened, all he saw was you swallowing his load even though he hadn’t asked you to, and it made him burn from the inside out. 
You grinned when he withdrew from your mouth and glanced up to meet his eyes, watching him struggle to find words. “You good?” you asked, shifting on your knees. 
Jisung nodded, but that word didn’t even begin to capture the feeling he had inside right now. That was a revolutionary nut. “I… yeah. I’m good.”
Getting up from your knees, you ignored the faint ache in them and asked, “Do you wanna fuck now?”
“God, yes,” Jisung replied in a heartbeat, stroking himself back rigid. It would happen in no time. 
When he was hard, he gathered you in his arms and tossed you unceremoniously onto the bed, a gasp escaping your mouth as your back met the mattress. Jisung ordered you to raise your hips, which you did on command, and he slipped your panties from underneath you to throw them wherever his pants were. Still unsatisfied, he tugged at your shirt too until you were completely naked.
The sight of you made him hold his breath. Your smooth skin and supple breasts and kissable tummy. He slipped a hand between your legs, wondering if he should return the favor before he fucked you, but he was surprised by how wet you had gotten from giving him pleasure. 
“You really are something else,” he mumbled, running his arousal-slicked fingers over his throbbing dick. 
You laughed, debating what to do with your legs, and ultimately deciding on draping them over his broad shoulders. Jisung groaned, having imagined one too many times how your cunt would feel as he pushed in and out of it silkily, and concluding that there was no point in drawing things out, he slipped between your slick folds. 
He growled in pleasure immediately, because both the way your pussy welcomed him in with ease and the way it invitingly throbbed around him was making him unravel. It was completely insane. The power you had over him right now was lethal and he couldn’t believe how wet and snug you were just for him. 
“Oh, god,” you moaned out, because suddenly your legs on him weren’t enough and you detangled them from his shoulders to wrap around his slim waist instead so that it would be easier to lock your arms around him as well. 
It took a long moment for Jisung to will himself to open his eyes, because they had been winced closed since the moment he felt you tightening around him. He looked you in the eyes. “Is this okay?” he asked softly. 
You nodded your head. His cock was long and thick and veiny and everything in between. You were in a world between heaven and earth, elevating to the gods and struggling to stay grounded. “It’s perfect, baby. Fuck me just like that.”
Jisung felt dizzy. He knew he had been right in choosing you. It wasn’t every girl that could leave him on the cusp of insanity with both her throat and her pussy, and he was still reeling from the head you’d given him. His whole body was scalding with lust and passion as he reaped pleasure from your body with every labored thrust. 
You couldn’t get enough how he felt stroking against your walls and it showed in the way you were kneading and gushing around his cock. The tension in the air was exhilarating, throttling. You grappled his forearms to keep him close, not wanting to be separated when he was fucking you this good. 
“Can you say my name?” Jisung asked, his voice thick with desire. 
“Jisung,” you called out softly, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts in a perfect sync. You simply couldn’t help yourself. This would be your undoing. 
Jisung swore underneath his breath, unable to control the way his stammering hips reacted to the hint of breathlessness in your voice, and smoothed his palms over your beautiful, bare body. He ran his fingers over your cheek, your neck, your chest and your thighs. 
He knew he needed to make you come if he cared about not absolutely humiliating himself, because he was going to unravel in a matter of minutes. With that thought, he stuck his hand between your legs and thumbed your clit, asking, “How does that feel?”
You cried out his name again, shuddering with sensitivity. Your heart was hammering in your chest and pounding in your ears and the throbbing between your legs was brutal. If he was trying to finish you, it was working. You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer. 
Jisung took that as a sign that you liked it and he continued rubbing the sensitive nub, all the while giving you those long, deep strokes you seemed to be enjoying. You couldn’t breathe through the ecstasy. The way he was stretching you out and bringing you high made you feel as if you could choke. 
You trembled beneath him, torn between taking his cock and arching away from the pleasure. “Oh my god. Fuck. I’m gonna come,” you said, feeling the sweat clinging to your skin. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was lying about being a virgin. 
That drew a grunt out of Jisung in anticipation. He didn’t stop touching your clit, didn’t stop stroking your sweet spot. “You gonna come for me?”
You nodded your head vigorously. The rhythm of his thrusts and the relentlessness of his hand between your legs was going to make you see stars. Of that you were certain. Your mouth hung open, gasping for breath, struggling to breathe in the stuffy air. 
Then it finally rammed into you like a freight train and you let out a mangled cry of Jisung’s name as you reached your peak. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. You begged for mercy, overcome. Undone. Your face tensed and you throbbed around his cock over and over, your entire body unstill. 
When you tried to squirm away from it, Jisung held you securely in his arms so that you had no option but to take the pleasure he was giving you, and everything about it made you feel faint. 
He only released you when you went slack against the sheets, the most empty look in your stare as if your soul had been completely snatched from your body, and he couldn’t but moan. God fucking damn. 
Jisung kept fucking you through your orgasm, knowing that his was right around the corner, especially with how you had clamped around him like a noose as you came and the soft moans you were making as he tried to get himself off. It was classic mutually assured destruction. 
You were hyper aware of the wet sound of his hips smacking into yours echoing out on the walls, even wetter now that you had orgasmed on his cock. Knowing the effect he had on you somehow turned you on. You were still trying to collect yourself after having one hell of an orgasm, throwing your arms around his body again. 
“Mm. Jisung, come. I want you to come,” you purred, rubbing your hands down his back. 
Jisung was losing his mind. He knew he was a goner the second you said that and thus he begrudgingly withdrew from your soaked pussy, flipped you onto your stomach, and started to stroke himself the rest of the way with his fist. 
In a matter of seconds, he was groaning so close to and simultaneously too far from your ear, landing a stripe of his cum on your ass as he winced his eyes closed for the nth time. You looked behind you in time to see his face tensing and his lips parted in a perfect deep moan that had you clenching around nothing.
Jisung dropped beside you like a deadweight and tried to gather his breath. His mind was staggering from the orgasm and the tight feel of your cunt around his cock and he wasn’t going to be capable of thinking straight for the next hour or so. 
When you at last willed yourself to move, you brushed the hair out of his face and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Jisung replied, nodding. “Are you?”
“I’m good,” you told him, grinning from ear to ear. You were hoping he wouldn’t leave without your number. The sex was a little too good not to happen again. 
Jisung bobbed his head again. He slowly sat up, knowing his head would spin if he got up too fast, and said, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”
You hummed in response, watching his back as he grabbed his pants and stepped out of the room. 
When he was in the bathroom, Jisung whipped out his phone from the pocket of his pants and texted his group chat. 
jisung: just lost my virginity for the 28th time not that i’m counting
mark: lmfaooo how long are these girls gon fall for that shit 
jeno: for real, he lies more than jaemin
jaemin: ntm on me. but i’m impressed he’s kept it up for this long 
haechan: come on. all he has to do is stutter and they’re like aweeee jisungie wungie is your cock heavy? here let me hold that for you
Jisung rolled his eyes and put his phone away. All he knew was the sex was amazing and he was coming back for seconds; you would be the perfect place to dump his cum before the start of November. 
And he wasn’t losing.
2K notes · View notes
yvesette · 6 months ago
Text
WE GOT MARRIED!
ִ ࣪𖤐 ۪ ݁ 𓈒 ── choi seungcheol
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SUMMARY: ── the premise of the popular reality show, "we got married," was simple: you and another celebrity would pretend to be married for two weeks, navigating various romantic and domestic challenges together. when your partner turns out to be choi seungcheol however, feelings complicate your perception of reality.
PAIRING: [choi seungcheol (s.coups) x f!reader] GENRE: [eventual smut, domestic fluff, angst, idol!au, fake dating, one bed, all the good shit]
CW: afab!reader, nicknames (angel, babygirl, baby, good girl), arguing (it’s sorted out), soft!dom ?? + pussydrunk cheol, big!dick cheol, fingering, penetration, safe sex (ofc), possessive!cheol, hair pulling, light choking
      ℘  ◌  ﹒ ⠀ ꢾ꣒⠀  ׅ⠀ㅤ ⑅
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── pre-show interview:
interviewer: "thank you for joining us today! can you tell us a little about yourself and what initially made you hesitant to join 'we got married'?"
you fiddle with your hands and compose yourself into a smile.
“of course. i’m y/n, and to be honest, when i was first approached about the show, i had a lot of reservations. being an idol, my life is already under constant scrutiny, and the idea of faking a marriage on national television was daunting. i was worried about how my fans would react and whether I'd be able to genuinely connect with my on-screen partner."
interviewer: "what eventually convinced you to participate?"
you think, “it was a mix of curiosity and encouragement from my friends and management. they believed it would be a good opportunity for me to show a different side of myself, one that isn't always visible on stage. plus, the idea of experiencing something as unique as a reality show marriage was too intriguing to pass up."
interviewer: "do you know who your partner will be yet?
you smile nervously, “no, i don't. it’s a complete surprise for me. all i know is that it's someone from a well-known group. i’m really curious to find out who it is!"
interviewer: "that must be exciting! can you share what your ideal type is for the camera?”
you grin thoughtfully, “my ideal type is someone who is kind-hearted and takes care of the people around them. they should have a strong sense of responsibility but also listen and understand. a good sense of humor is a must — oh and physically, i guess i find myself drawn to someone with a warm smile and expressive eyes. someone who can be both charismatic on stage and down-to-earth in everyday life."
interviewer: "finally, do you have any worries or concerns going into the show?"
you: "i’m a bit worried about how awkward it might be at first. there’s always that initial nervousness when meeting someone new, and this situation is quite intense. i hope we can get past that quickly and have a good time together.”
day 1:
you stood in front of the door to a luxurious townhome, hands fidgeting nervously at your sides. this would be your new home for the next two weeks. the camera crew gave you a nod, signaling it was time to head inside. taking a deep breath, you open the door and step into the living room, where a warm, cozy ambiance greets you. as you set your bag down, you hear the sound of the front door opening again. you turn, breath caught in your throat, and a man, looking slightly familiar to you, enters the room.
he was wearing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, paired with dark jeans that accentuated his tall, athletic frame. his broad shoulders and well-defined chest were subtly outlined by the fabric of his shirt, hinting at the strength beneath. the open collar revealed a glimpse of his collarbones, which added an effortlessly sexy touch to his appearance and you thanked god you’d been paired with someone this attractive, as selfish as it sounded. his face was a perfect blend of boyish charm and mature masculinity and his dark hair was styled in a slightly tousled manner.
the man in front of you carried a polite smile. for a moment, you both stood there, slightly taken aback by the reality of the situation.then, as if on cue, you both bowed to each other in polite, awkward unison. "hello!" you said at the same time, voices overlapping. realizing what happened, you both laughed nervously and bowed again, this time with even more formality.
“hi, i’m y/n," you said, smiling despite your nerves.
“i’m seungcheol. it’s nice to meet you,” he said, returning your smile.
there was a brief pause as you both sized each other up, trying to gauge the other's reaction. something about him seemed familiar, but you couldn't quite place it.
your heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned on you and you remembered his face from music and award shows. you were almost certain the man in front of you was a member of seventeen and your mind was almost more eased you were paired with another idol.
as you shook his hand, your mind raced with a million thoughts. should you mention that you know who he is? would it be weird? awkward?
before you could decide, seungcheol spoke again, his voice cheerful and inviting, “i know this is a bit of an odd situation, but let's make these two weeks memorable, okay?”
you nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his face and your cheeks flushed slightly.
the first task was to explore the house together, finding little notes and hints left by the producers about upcoming challenges and activities. as you moved from room to room, seungcheol’s playful nature shined through. he made jokes about the odd decorations and even tried on an oversized apron in the kitchen, to which he realized how easily he could make you laugh.
in the living room, you found a note instructing you to cook your first meal together. seungcheol looked at you with genuine curiosity in his eyes. "do you cook often?"
you shook your head, “i try, but i’m not the best. how about you?”
he shrugged, “i can manage, could you hand me those eggs?”
working side by side in the kitchen, you both stumbled through the recipe, exchanging glances and giggles as you tried to make sense of the instructions. seungcheol’s presence was comforting; his easygoing demeanor made it feel less like a staged activity and you had to remind yourself of your situation every once in a while.
“careful!" you warned as he nearly knocked over a bowl of flour.
“oops," he laughed, catching it just in time. "oh my god, thanks for warning me.”
when the meal was finally ready, you both sat down at the coffee table, a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie settling in.
“you know," he says, his voice low and conspiratorial, "i have to admit, i was a bit of a fan of yours before this."
you almost spit out your food and your eyes widen in surprise, “you were?”
he nodded, a shy smirk playing on his lips. "yeah, i may or may not have listened to…a few, songs.”
you couldn't help but laugh, feeling a rush of disbelief, “well," you said, unable to hide the smile on your face, "i guess we both have some fangirling/fanboying to do then.”
seungcheol chuckled before taking a sip of his drink, “looks like we're off to a good start then."
later that evening, as you both settled on the couch to go over the day's events, you found yourself stealing glances at seungcheol when he wasn't looking. the cameras captured every moment, but by now, they had become background noise. seungcheol’s arm rested casually on the back of the couch, his presence reassuring.
"so what did you think of our first day together?" seungcheol asked, turning to you with a gentle smile.
you smiled back, feeling more at ease now. "honestly , it was fun. a bit overwhelming at first, but i think we handled it pretty well."
he nodded, his expression thoughtful. "yeah , i think so too. it’s all about getting comfortable with each other, right?"
you laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "exactly."
as the night continued, the two of you talked about your experiences in the industry, sharing stories and laughing over funny moments. the more you talked, the more you realized how much you had in common. it was easy to forget the cameras were even there.
day 5:
it had been a few days of filming and your arranged marriage with the charming seungcheol was off to an...interesting start. between the awkward getting-to-know-you interviews and staged "newlywed" activities for the cameras, you were still trying to find your footing in this bizarre situation.
one minute, you and seungcheol were bickering like an old married couple over whose turn it was to do the dishes, (it would always end with him insisting he did the chore.) the next, you'd catch him shooting you an ambiguous look from under those ridiculously long lashes, causing a fluttery feeling to erupt in your stomach. it was a constant back-and-forth of feeling flustered yet intrigued by your new husband.
today, the production crew had you and seungcheol participate in a silly pillow fight "challenge" meant to showcase your playful newlywed dynamic. what started off as an innocent, goofy bout of whacking each other with the plush objects quickly devolved into an all-out war.
giggling breathlessly, you launched another fluffy projectile at seungcheol’s head, who had now affectionately insisted you call him cheol.
he taunted with a roguish grin, deflecting your pillow attack.
you both scrambled for ammunition, whacking each other relentlessly. you shrieked as a particularly fierce blow sent you tumbling backwards onto the bed.
in a flash, seungcheol pounced - pinning your wrists above your head as he straddled your waist. his sculpted body pressed against yours, stealing your breath away.
"i win," he murmured huskily, drinking in your flushed, disheveled state. a few dark strands of hair had fallen over his forehead, making him look ridiculously pretty and you both froze as the heated tension reached a tipping point, chests heaving from the exertion of your pillow fight.
then, all at once, realization seemed to wash over both of you. this had crossed a line, strayed too far from the realm of pretend into something that felt a little too real for your comfort. seungcheol quickly released your wrists and rolled off you, running a flustered hand through his tousled hair as the cameras cut and the producers applaud your chemistry ‘played up’ for the show.
“i…sorry, i got a bit carried away there," he muttered gruffly, unable to meet your eyes.
you pushed yourself into a sitting position, clutching a pillow protectively to your chest. “no, it's...yeah, me too," you mumbled, cheeks burning.
as seungcheol swiftly excused himself, you couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper and more complicated had been irrevocably awakened on your end, you watched your fake husband’s broad back retreating towards the door, then he paused and glanced over his shoulder at you.
despite the flustered awkwardness of moments before, his gaze openly raked over your disheveled form in a way that made heat lick through your veins. you clutched the pillow tighter, suddenly feeling very exposed under his molten perusal.
as quickly as the blazing look had appeared, it faded to a neutral expression once more as he gave you a brisk nod. "i’ll...see you later," he murmured in a rough rasp before ducking out of the room, leaving you flushed and wondering what the hell had just happened.
day 9:
the sweltering summer heat had prompted the producers to film a scene with you and seungcheol enjoying some relaxation at the rooftop pool.
you tried not to stare too openly as seungcheol stripped off his shirt, revealing a toned, sculpted torso that made your mouth go dry. rivulets of glistening water trailed tantalizing paths down those firm abs as he sank into the cool pool with a contented sigh.
“you coming in or what, y/n?" he flashed you a lopsided grin, sending your pulse into an erratic stutter.
shaking yourself free of your momentary thirst, you made a big show of daintily dipping a toe in to test the temperature, “oh my god it’s freezing.” you step out of the water onto the poolside and shiver from the contact.
cheol arches an incredulous brow at your overly dramatic reaction. then without warning, he kicked up an arched wave that splashed you squarely in the face.
you sputtered in outraged shock as he cackled at your drenched, bedraggled state. you cursed at him and then tilted your head, “oh you’re gonna get it now…”
retaliating, you cannonballed directly towards him, prompting a yelp as he tried dodging the cascading wall of water.
what started as an innocent pool dip quickly devolved into an all-out splash fight, filled with laughter and shrieks, water spraying everywhere. at one point, seungcheol grabbed you around the waist from behind, holding you flush against his chest as you squealed and squirmed playfully...
as the sun dipped low on the horizon, it set the sky ablaze with vibrant shades of orange and red bled across the heavens, intermingling with streaks of brilliant pink and lavender. the surface of the rooftop pool shimmered like liquid amber, endlessly rippling and refracting the spectacular colors above.
as the playful battle subsided, you found yourselves standing chest-deep, catching your breath. seungcheol, hair plastered to his forehead, offered you a sheepish grin. his hand, reaching out to brush a stray strand from your eye, hesitated in mid-air.
the air crackled with a sudden tension, a shift from playful banter to something more intense. you held his gaze, unsure of where this unexpected touch might lead. the playful facade, for a moment, seemed to falter, revealing a vulnerability that sent a shiver down your spine.
as the camera crew wrapped their filming of the segment momentarily, cheol leaned against the pool deck, catching his breath, while you treaded water, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.
“you know," seungcheol said, his voice slightly breathless, "for someone who almost drowned me with pool water ten minutes ago - you’re pretty fun to do this whole fake marriage this with.”
his compliment caught you off guard, a blush creeping up your cheeks. you looked away, fiddling with the straps of your swimsuit and snorted, “you would have survived, trust.”
you bit your lip, “but you’re not…awful, to do this with. i’m glad it was you.”
his biceps flexed as he pushed himself off the wall, the water cascading down his toned arms. he smiled and ran a hand through his hair, which was now drying in messy waves.
you had to admit to yourself, in another situation, he was pretty close to your type. your mind took a sharp turn and a thrilling image of cheol, those big arms holding you close, pinning you down. he could easily manhandle you, and the thought sent a forbidden thrill through you.
taking a deep breath, you forced your gaze away from him, the delicious heat replaced by a cold wave of reality.
that evening, the producers insisted that as a "newly married couple," you and seungcheol needed to share the bedroom set for an authentic experience. your heart pounded as the camera crew ushered you both into the dimly lit bedroom, pulling the covers back invitingly.
"alright you two, get nice and cozy for us!" the director called out teasingly. "we’ll get some candid footage of your first night spent in the same room together as husband and wife."
you shot seungcheol an awkward look, but he just gave you a reassuring smile as he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. the cameras rolled as you climbed stiffly into bed together, maintaining a prim distance at first.
however, as soon as the crew lights winked off and you were left in intimate shadows, cheol’s touch grew bolder. his arm snaked more fully around you, hand skimming along your curves as he tugged you flush against his solid frame and he watched your face for approval.
"just go with it for the cameras," he murmured in your ear, making you shiver at the feel of his warm breath fanning your neck.
you gave a shaky nod, trying to ignore the rampant spiraling spawning low in your belly from his nearness. but as the man next to you nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, letting out a contented sigh, you felt yourself instinctively relaxing into his embrace.
before long, the camera crew was dismissing themselves, leaving you and seungcheol tangled together intimately. you started to pull away, murmuring about giving him some space, but his arms only tightened around you.
“stay," he rumbled in that deep velvety tone that made heat curl low in your belly. "please. just for tonight."
you couldn't help but overthink the situation as you lay cocooned in seungcheol’s strong arms later that night. his slow, even breathing tickled the nape of your neck as he slumbered peacefully behind you.
this whole scenario - cuddling intimately, sharing a bed, his persistent insistence that you stay - it was quickly becoming difficult for you to differentiate reality and the fake of your friendship, or whatever you could call it.
realistically, there was no way seungcheol actually had romantic feelings for you, right? you were just some virtual stranger he'd been assigned to act affectionate towards for the sake of entertainment.
no, you reasoned to yourself, cheol was simply an incredibly dedicated performer who happened to be devastatingly good-looking. he was merely playing the role of an infatuated newlywed husband exceptionally well. all those lingering looks, the electrifying touches, the way he'd pulled you insistently into his embrace - it was just him staying committed to the act. you were just a tolerable person for him to pretend to be married to for the cameras. that’s all this was. if you started projecting more meaning onto your partner’s actions, reading into lingering touches and heated glances, you'd only end up getting your hopes up and complicating things.
chewing your lip, you willed yourself not to dwell on the intimacy of your current position - pressed snugly back against his toned chest, legs tangled together, breaths mingling. it didn’t mean anything. he was just...really, really good at making this fake marriage feel real.
you lay there for a long while, keenly aware of every rise and fall of seungcheol’s chest against your back, the whisper of his warm breath fanning your nape. his arm was a solid, heated band around your waist, anchoring you to his slumbering form.
carefully, you began extracting yourself from his arms, trying not to rouse him. he made a soft grumbling sound of protest as you slipped out of bed, his arm reflexively tightening for a moment before falling away. you froze, watching him with bated breath, but he merely rolled onto his back with a gusty sigh, face relaxing back into peaceful slumber.
for a long moment, you simply stood there drinking in the sight of him - all tousled ebony hair, chiseled features, lips slightly parted as he slumbered. your heart gave a powerful thud, desperate longing temporarily overwhelming rationality.
then, you wrenched your gaze away, wrapping your arms around yourself as you crept towards the door on soft feet and went to your separate bedroom. this was for the best. putting some distance between you before things inevitably became more tangled and awkward.
day 12:
"you’re burning it!" seungcheol suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the pan on the stove where the sauce was starting to smoke.
by late afternoon, you were both working on preparing dinner in the kitchen. the producers had given you a complex recipe to follow, and the pressure was mounting. seungcheol was chopping vegetables while you tried to manage the stove, but things weren't going as planned.
you glanced over, feeling flustered. "i know, i know! i’m trying to fix it!"
"well, you need to do it faster! we can't serve burnt food," he retorted, his tone sharper than you expected.
you felt a surge of irritation. "why don't you come over here and do it then if you're so concerned?"
seungcheol put down the knife he was holding, his jaw tightening. "i’m just trying to help. there’s no need to get defensive."
you turn off the stove and face him, your frustration boiling over. "it feels like you're criticizing everything i’m doing. this is supposed to be fun but—“ you sigh.
seungcheol’s expression softened slightly, but he didn't back down. "i’m not trying to criticize you. i’m just stressed because i want this to turn out well. we’re both under a lot of pressure.”
his words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. you felt a warmth bloom in your cheeks, a prickling awareness that transcended the confines of the tiny kitchen. it wasn't just the heat from the stove anymore; it was the sudden, electrifying tension that crackled between you.
whatever this "show marriage" was quickly becoming, it was growing increasingly difficult to remember it wasn't real.
his gaze held yours, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. was it just the stress of the competition, or was there something more? maybe it was the way his thumb brushed against yours as he reached for a spatula, a touch that lingered a beat too long. maybe it was the way his voice seemed to drop an octave whenever he spoke directly to you.
the air grew thick, the playful banter of the morning replaced by a charged silence. you weren't talking simply about cooking anymore. this felt like something more, something simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.
suddenly, a loud clang from the living room shattered the spell. the cameraman had accidentally knocked over a vase, the sound breaking the intimate bubble you'd somehow created. seungcheol offered a grin of reconciliation, the tension momentarily broken.
as you both cleaned up the broken vase, a playful jab exchanged here and there, you couldn't shake the feeling that cheol’s feelings for you mirrored your own. maybe it was just wishful thinking, fueled by the close proximity and manufactured intimacy of the show. but a tiny, hopeful spark ignited within you. perhaps, just perhaps, this fake marriage could be a gateway into something else.
the air crackled with an unspoken apology after your argument in the kitchen. the rest of the day was filmed in a tense silence, punctuated only by the polite pleasantries expected for the cameras. seungcheol stole glances at you every now and then, his gaze laced with regret, but you studiously avoided his eyes.
dinner was a quiet affair, the weight of the fight hanging heavy between you. as the last crew member packed up their equipment and said their goodbyes, a heavy sigh escaped seungcheol’s lips. you remembered you only had two more days left with him before you parted ways and continued your daily, busy lives.
you lean against the doorframe of cheol’s assigned bedroom. he’s reading something foreign and doesn’t notice your presence at first. "hey," you started hesitantly, the artificiality of your fabricated married life suddenly feeling suffocating. he looked up, his eyes filled with a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.
"i shouldn't have snapped at you," he said, his voice rough. "this whole thing... the pressure, the cameras... it just — you know, gets to me sometimes.”
you understood. the world only saw the polished, perfect idols on stage, not the stress and anxieties that gnawed at them behind the scenes. partially this show felt like a risk of balance between speculation and approval. “i know," you admitted softly, surprised at the tremor in your voice. "it gets to me too."
silence settled again, but this time it wasn't tense. it was a comfortable quiet, an unspoken understanding blooming between you.
you took a seat on the mattress and asked him what he was reading.
“amour,” he says, flipping the book over to show you the cover.
“amour?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "isn’t that french for love?"
cheol rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "yeah, it is. found it at the airport bookstore. it’s about a journalist who travels around france asking people about love."
a playful glint sparked in your eyes. "funny," you said, tracing the title with your finger, “didn’t know you were such a romantic.”
a wry smile tugged at the corner of seungcheol's lips. "maybe i’m just curious," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur that made you nervous. "especially after all this... 'pretend' marriage stuff." he paused, his gaze flickering from the book to your face. "maybe the line between pretending and feeling is a little more blurry than we thought."
he words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. the playful banter you'd used as a shield these past 2 weeks suddenly felt inadequate. you met his gaze, the air crackling with a new kind of tension.
"maybe it is," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.
the glint in your eyes softened into something deeper, something that mirrored the sudden intensity in cheol’s gaze. he set his book down on the nightstand with a soft thud, the sound swallowed by the heavy silence that had descended upon the room.
he took a slow movement towards you across the bed, his eyes searching yours with a depth that made your breath catch. you could practically feel the unspoken question hanging in the air, a question your heart already knew the answer to. there was a palpable tension between you, an invisible thread pulling you closer.
without another word, seungcheol closed the remaining distance between you. his hand reached out to cup your cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. his thumb brushed against your soft skin, a gentle caress that spoke volumes. it was as if he was trying to communicate everything he felt in that simple touch, the unspoken emotions and the growing connection between you.
his eyes flickered down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, asking for permission without uttering a single word. you gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, your heart pounding in your chest.
then, he leaned in. the kiss was hesitant at first, a soft exploration that tasted of unspoken longing and a newfound vulnerability. hips lips were warm and tender against yours, moving with a gentleness that made your heart ache and charged with the electricity of forbidden desire and the sweetness of a connection that transcended the cameras and the manufactured reality of your "marriage."
as the kiss deepened, seungcheol’s other hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer. you responded instinctively, your hands sliding up to rest on his broad shoulders. the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. the kiss grew more passionate, an unspoken promise of the bond forming between you.
his fingers threaded through your hair, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss. the heat of his body pressed against yours, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart mirroring your own. every touch, every movement was filled with a mix of tenderness and urgency, a dance of emotions that neither of you could deny any longer.
in one swift movement, seungcheol lifted you onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around you securely. the sudden shift made you gasp, breaking the kiss momentarily. he took advantage of your parted lips, diving back in with a new intensity. his hand tangled in your hair, gripping it roughly as he deepened the kiss. the raw hunger in his actions satisfied a need you’d had since the moment you met him and ignited a new thirst in you for more than a kiss.
his lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your jaw and neck. seungcheol’s breath was warm against your skin, each kiss sending shivers down your spine. "cheol-ie," you breathed out, your voice shaky with desire. "i’ve needed you so bad.”
he groaned against your neck, the sound vibrating through you and making your core tighten with need. "you have no idea how much I’ve wanted you babygirl,” he murmured, his voice rough with longing. the nickname makes you feel weak in his arms as they roam over your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.
you began to move against him, grinding your hips down on his lap. the friction elicited a deep, guttural moan from his chest, his grip on your hair tightening. his lips continued their path along your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin. each touch, each kiss, was driving you both closer to the edge.
your hands slid under his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours and see the body you’d thought about and fantasized about at the pool. his muscles tensed under your touch, and he let out another low groan. the sound sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, making you grind harder against him.
feeling the need for more, you reached for the hem of your top, and without hesitation, cheol’s hands followed suit, helping you remove the garment until it fell forgotten to the floor. his eyes drank in the sight before him, the intensity of his gaze sending a thrill through you. with a passion that matched your own, he leaned in to capture your lips in a feverish kiss, his movements urgent and commanding.
seungcheol’s hands moved to your breasts, his touch sending electric pulses of pleasure coursing through your body. his lips followed suit, trailing hot kisses down your neck and collarbone before finding their way to your exposed skin. the sensation of his warm mouth on your sensitive flesh made you gasp, a moan escaping your lips as you arched into his touch.
as he sucked and massaged your breasts with a hunger that bordered on desperation, you couldn't help but whine his name, the sound echoing in the room like a symphony of desire.
his only response was a deep, guttural groan, the sound vibrating through you.
cheol’s hands moved to your hips, guiding your movements and matching your rhythm. the sensation of his hardness pressing against you was intoxicating, heightening the desire coursing through your veins. “i need you," he whispered hoarsely against your neck, his breath hot and heavy.
you pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. the intensity you saw there took your breath away. "i need you too, cheol," you whispered back, your voice filled with the same raw need.
"show me," he commanded, his voice dropping to a low, authoritative tone. "show me how much you want me."
you bit your lip and your mind was urging you to shed the last remnants of clothing separating you from seungcheol’s touch. with a sense of urgency, you sat up, for just a moment to rid yourself of your pajama shorts and panties. he gently helped you slip out of the remainder of your clothes until you were completely bare in front of him.
as you returned to straddle him, seungcheol’s eyes darkened with possessiveness, his slightly dumbfounded gaze raking over your exposed form with undisguised lust. you reached for his hand, guiding it to where you needed him most.
his fingers moved in circles with a skill and reverence that bordered on worship. as he teased and caressed you with one hand, his other grabbed the back of your neck to pull you into his orbit.
"cheol," you gasped, your voice filled with need as his touch sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. "pl-please, want you inside of me..”
his response was a low, guttural growl, the sound sending shivers down your spine. he pressed his fingers against your throbbing center, the sensation driving you crazy, and leaned against your ear, “i know angel, i know, need to prep you.”
he slipped two long fingers inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. you couldn't help but arch impossibly back into his touch, a high pitched moan escaping your lips as he filled you completely. his fingers curled inside you and slipped in and out, stretching you and sending waves of pleasure over you that you could feel building closer and closer to your climax.
cheol pulled your face closer to his by your neck as he pumped his fingers in and out of you and whispered in his deep voice words of praise, “you’re so good for me.” his voice was rough in responsive to your obedience.
“such a good girl.”
the words sent a thrill through you, and your breathing that had gotten more quick by the second let all the air escape from your lungs as you completely gave in to the sensations in your body. you reached your peak screaming his name and collapsing onto the bed with your back. now on top of you, cheol guided you down from your high, and his movements became slower and more gentle until his fingers pulled out of you.
you felt his hand move to your lips, gently pressing against them. with a mix of hesitation and curiosity, you parted your lips, allowing cheol to guide his fingers inside your mouth so you could taste yourself.
“that’s it babygirl,” he said, a low groan escaping his lips. the sight of you, so willing and eager for his touch, only fueled the fire burning inside of him. he pulls his fingers from your mouth to press gentle kisses on your lips and your cheek - a sharp contrast from the intensity that had taken over him before.
as the passion of the moment continued to build, you couldn't help but notice the unmistakable hardness pressing against your thigh. seungcheol’s arousal was evident, his desire matching your own in its fervor. a surge of need washed over you, and you found yourself craving him in a way that was almost overwhelming.
desperation clawed at your insides, urging you to beg for him, to plead with him to take you in his arms and fuck you until you saw stars. but as you glanced into his eyes, you saw a flicker of uncertainty, a hint of fear lurking beneath the surface.
you reached for him, your fingers tracing the outline of his arousal through his pants. the intensity of his desire was palpable, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. you wanted him, needed him, in a way that bordered on obsession. but as you moved to undo his pants, you felt him hesitate, his hands shaking slightly. "i…i don’t know if i can," he whispered hoarsely, his voice filled with a sigh.
you whispered, your voice soft and filled with sincerity. "i want this, with you."
a flicker of relief flashed across his features, his shoulders relaxing slightly at your words. but the worry still lingered in his eyes, the fear of causing you pain evident in every line of his expression. he reached down to free his member from the confines of his sweatpants, discarding the clothing with a swift movement. as his length sprang free, you couldn't help but gasp at the sight before you. he was almost comically big, his arousal standing proudly against his abdomen, thick and pulsing with desire.
a mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through you as you watched him, desire pooling low in your belly. you couldn't help but wonder how he was going to fit inside of you, the thought sending a thrill of anticipation racing through you. seungcheol reached for his wallet on the nightstand, retrieving a condom with practiced ease and slipped it on.
cheol lifted your legs over his head, moving himself between them, a gasp escaped your lips at the sudden change in position. you felt him slowly enter you, his size stretching you in a way that was both exhilarating and slightly painful. the stretch stung, sending a jolt of sensation coursing through your body, but it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. he had to be the biggest you'd ever had, filling you completely and leaving you breathless with desire.
“‘s-so big,” was all you could breathe out with awe in your voice.
“you’re so fucking tight,” he murmured with both hands holding your legs over his shoulder so he could stretch you out as much as possible. bottoming out, he studied your face for signs of discomfort and deciding he could move. as seungcheol began to thrust gently at first, you felt his movements cautious and tender, as if he were testing the waters. each slow push and pull sent waves of pleasure rippling through you, his size stretching you in ways that ignited a fire deep within.
“feels so fucking good, your perfect pussy…” he groans into your neck.
you couldn't help but vocalize how good you felt as well, “don’t stop baby, please.”
something about that nickname makes his movements became more urgent, more desperate, as he surrendered himself to the pleasure of being inside you. with each thrust, you felt yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable crescendo. his thrusts became rougher, more dominant, as he took control of the rhythm. with a growl of desire, he reached for your throat, his grip firm but not constricting.
the sensation of his hand around your neck sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through you, the combination of pleasure and pain driving you wild with desire. "who makes you feel this good?" he demanded, his voice rough with need.
you gasped at the sensation, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. "you," you screamed, your voice filled with rawness. "It's you, cheol."
he flipped you over onto your hands and knees, positioning you perfectly for him to take you from behind. you gasped at the sudden change in position, the feeling of vulnerability and excitement coursing through you. but before you could react, seungcheol’s hands were on you, grabbing your ass possessively as he pulled you towards him. the sensation of his grip on your flesh sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine, curved for him to hit your perfect angle.
as you thought you couldn't take any more, you felt his hand tangle in your hair, pulling you back towards him with a force that left you breathless. “want you to be mine..” he choked out, his words claiming you.
“‘m yours," you gasped, your voice surrendering yourself completely. with a final, desperate thrust, cheol buried himself deep inside you, sending you both hurtling over the edge into ecstasy. pleasure exploded through every nerve ending in your body as you both reached the peak together, your cries of passion mingling in the air as you rode out the waves of bliss together.
seungcheol slowly withdrew from you and as you caught your breathe, he removed the condom, discarding it thoughtfully before turning his attention back to you. his demeanor shifted, his previous intensity giving way to a tender concern. leaning in, he pressed soft kisses to your tired face, his touch gentle and reassuring. "are you okay?" he whispered, his voice filled with genuine concern as he traced a soothing hand along your sweaty cheek.
you nodded, a contented smile gracing your lips as you bask in the warmth of his affection.
he tenderly cleaned you with a warm, damp cloth that he quickly fetched from the bathroom, his movements gentle and careful as he ensured tour comfort. once satisfied, he disposed of the cloth and returned to your side, pulling the covers over the both of your naked bodies.
you lay in each other's arms, the quiet of the room enveloping them like a comforting embrace. the air was filled with a sense of contentment but also questions rang through your mind. unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you spoke up. "cheol, earlier... did you mean what you said?" you asked, her voice tentative yet filled with hope.
seungcheol turned to you, his gaze soft yet filled with meaning. “every word," he replied, his voice steady and sure. “if you want — then you’re mine, and i’m yours.”
your mind buzzed with uncertainty and you sigh, snuggling closer to him. the realization that your time together on the show was fleeting weighed heavily on your heart, casting a shadow over the intimacy you had shared.
"seungcheol," you begin, switching from the nickname you’d been using. “i can’t help but wonder...after filming ends, what happens to us? we haven't known each other for long, and...” you gnawed at your lip, “what if we’re just caught in the moment?”
his expression faltered, a flicker of hurt flashing across his features at your words. he had been so certain of your connection, so confident in the depth of your feelings for each other, that your doubts came as a painful blow.
he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he gently cupped your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. "caught in the moment?" he repeated, his voice filled with an anxiety-ridden tone you had never heard before. "is that really what you think this is?"
your chest clenched at the anguish in seungcheol’s eyes, the weight of your words settling heavily between the two of you. you hadn't meant to hurt him, hadn't realized the impact your doubts would have on him.
"no, seungcheol, that's not what i meant," you hurried to explain, sitting up — your voice thick with regret. "i just... i’m scared. scared that what we have isn't enough to survive once the cameras stop rolling."
seungcheol sat up, shoulders slumped, the weight of your uncertainty pressing down on him like a boulder. "i need some time to think," he said, his voice strained. without another word, he stood up, dressed himself with the clothes he’d discarded on the floor as you protested, and left the room, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing through the silence.
you curled up under the covers, the emptiness of the room amplifying the loneliness you felt.
day 13:
the next morning dawned with a heavy sense of awkwardness hanging in the air. as you emerged from your room, the weight of last night’s conversation still pressed on your chest. cheol was already in the kitchen, his back turned to you as he prepared breakfast. the usual warmth and easy smiles were conspicuously absent.
"good morning," you said softly, trying to break the tension.
"morning," he replied flatly, not turning to face you. his tone was distant, a stark contrast to the intimate moments you had shared just hours before.
breakfast was a quiet affair, the silence between you filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. every clink of cutlery felt amplified, every glance avoided a reminder of the rift that had formed.
filming started shortly after, the crew bustling around to set up the day’s scenes. you and seungcheol went through the motions, but the chemistry that had once made your interactions effortless now felt forced. the cameras captured your strained smiles and awkward pauses, the tension between you palpable.
by the end of the day, the weight of the unspoken words and unresolved tension was nearly unbearable. as the crew packed up and the lights dimmed, you felt a deep sense of despair settle in. the connection that had once felt so strong now seemed fragile.
the newly familiar routine of brushing your teeth and changing into pajamas felt strangely hollow without seungcheol’s presence by your side. as you slipped under the covers, the cool sheets seemed to amplify the emptiness of the space beside you.
day 14:
the next day dawned with a sense of finality, the knowledge that it was the last day of filming adding a layer of bittersweet tension to the air. you went through your morning routine mechanically, each action feeling heavy with the weight of the unspoken words and unresolved emotions between you and your fake husband.
the filming started early, the crew bustling around to capture the last few scenes of your time together. you and seungcheol interacted politely, tension still lingering. you found yourself stealing glances at him, wishing for a moment alone to bridge the gap, but the demands of filming left little room for personal conversations. the day moved swiftly, and before you knew it, it was time for the post-show interview.
post-show interview:
you sat in the brightly lit room, the camera trained on you as the producer asked the final questions. the weight of the moment pressed on you, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves.
interviewer: "so, how do you feel now that the show is ending?”
her voice was gentle but probing.
you paused, considering your words carefully. "its been an amazing experience," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "i’ve learned so much about myself and about what i want in a relationship. and...i’ve come to care for seungcheol deeply. more than i expected."
the interviewer leaned in, sensing the depth of your emotions.
interviewer: “can you elaborate on that? how has your relationship with seungcheol evolved?"
you nodded, your heart pounding. "at first, it was just about getting to know each other, but as the days went by, i found myself feeling…a certain way about him. he’s kind, supportive, and has this way of making me feel seen and valued. i’ve realized that i fell for him and that my feelings were real.”
a pang of regret hit you, remembering your doubts and the hurt in cheol’s eyes. you wondered if you should share your feelings fully, fearing the consequences of the media. but then, you decided—if there was a chance that he would see this interview when the show aired, perhaps he would understand the depth of your feelings and know that you regretted your words.
“i’ve fallen for seungcheol," you confessed, your voice breaking slightly. "and i regret the doubts i voiced. i wish i could take them back. i hope... i hope he can see how much he means to me."
the interviewer smiled softly, sensing the raw emotion in your words and the scoop she had just gotten. “thank you for sharing that," she said gently. "it’s clear that this experience has been transformative for you."
the weeks after the show wrapped up were a whirlwind of activity as you dived back into your work. your agency had announced a comeback, and preparations were in full swing, leaving little time for anything else. yet, despite the hectic schedule, thoughts of seungcheol lingered in the back of your mind, a constant undercurrent to your busy days. you cherished the rare quiet moments in your dorm, where you could catch up with your girl friends or simply relax. even during these times, you found yourself checking your phone, hoping for a message from the person you longed for. as the days passed with no word, a sense of uncertainty grew, mingled with the hope that he would reach out once the show aired.
when the show finally did air, you watched your post-show interview with bated breath, wondering how seungcheol would react. the raw honesty of your confession, the vulnerability you had shown, left you feeling exposed but kept you waiting next to your phone.
then, the call came. hearing cheol’s voice, filled with emotion and understanding, was like a balm to your weary heart. his words of reconciliation and his desire to give your relationship a real chance were everything you had hoped for. the prospect of meeting him off-camera, to explore your connection without the pressures of the show, filled you with a renewed sense of excitement and somewhat worry.
the next day, you found yourself standing outside a small, cozy café, your heart racing with anticipation. the door opened, and there he was—your same old cheol, looking just as nervous and hopeful as you felt.
he smiled as he saw you, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made your heart flutter. "hey," he said softly, stepping closer.
"hey," you replied, your voice quiet and your eyes watery.
without another word, he pulled you into a hug, holding you close. the warmth of his embrace, the familiar scent of him, it all felt right.
you both sat down, ordering drinks and talking about everything and nothing. the conversation flowed easily, the tension from the show slowly melting away as you reconnected on a deeper, more personal level.
"i’ve been thinking about you every day," he confessed, his hand reaching out to cover yours. "i want to explore this, see where it leads. no cameras, no scripts—just us."
you nodded, tears of happiness glistening in your eyes. "i want that too, cheol. i want us to have a real chance."
as seungcheol and you left the café, a small crowd had gathered outside, eager to catch a glimpse of the two of you together. camera flashes illuminated the sidewalk as fan-sites and news networks alike snapped photos, their interest palpable in the air. reporters shouted questions, their voices blending into a cacophony of speculation about your relationship.
online, netizens dissected every detail, analyzing photos and videos from the show and your recent café outing. comments and posts flooded social media platforms, with hashtags trending worldwide. the public's curiosity and excitement seemed to know no bounds as they speculated about the nature of your relationship.
cheol took to his instagram, posting a photo of the two of you holding hands outside the café with a quote from “amour,” the novel he had read previously.
— “ there will come a time when you believe everything is finished; that will be the beginning. “
end.
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nevernonline · 9 days ago
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✧.* talk too much; kmg
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synopsis:  a charismatic but slightly awkward mingyu, whose tendency to talk too much creates hilariously unpredictable situations.  one early morning he spots a stranger sitting in the corner of the café—someone who's quiet, mysterious, and a little intimidating. drawn to her aura, he strikes up a conversation. but every time he opens his mouth, his words seem to betray him.
paring: mingyu x fem! reader. 
genre:strangers2whatever (hehe)  
warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol) some minor sexy stuff, but not much really.
word count: 11k
content: . non-idol idolings, awkward over sharer mingyu.
note: non rlly edited prob weird typos, xo. ( there's a part 2 in my drafts fully bc I couldn't stop writing about these two)
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The bell above the café door jingled as the stranger stepped inside. Mingyu, standing in front of the register, halfway through recounting a story to his favorite barista about the time he accidentally adopted a stray cat. He paused mid-sentence, caught off guard by the stranger’s presence.  
She was unlike anyone who usually wandered into the cozy café—a stark contrast to the warm, inviting space. Dressed in muted tones, she carried an air of quiet confidence and mystery, expression unreadable. The girl didn’t look around or hesitate, walking directly to a table in the far corner as though she had been here a hundred times before.  
Mingyu watched her settle in, his curiosity piqued. The girl placed a cherry red leather-bound journal on the table, opened it to a blank page, and began scribbling furiously.  
“She doesn't look like she’s here for the coffee,” Mingyu muttered to himself.  
Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the notepad behind the counter from his stunned regular bar keep and approached the table.  
“Hi there,” he said brightly. “Welcome to uh, Black Rabbit. Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? One of the world-famous muffins? Well, they’re not world-famous yet, but I think they are. Anyway—”  
The stranger looked up, her sharp eyes meeting his. Mingyu froze for a moment, forgetting whatever it was he was going to say next.  
“Black coffee,” the stranger said curtly. Her voice was low, measured, and entirely unimpressed.  
“Got it. One black coffee. Simple. Classic. You know, I respect that. Some people come in here and order drinks with so many extra syrups and toppings it’s like they’re trying to create a dessert in disguise. But you—you’re all about the essentials.”  
The girl raised an eyebrow. “Is there a point to this? Also do you even work here?”  
Mingyu blinked, realizing he was rambling. “Uh, nope! No point. Just making conversation. I’ll get that coffee for you. And, uh, no I don’t. Just helping out.”  
He turned and practically sprinted back to the counter, silently berating himself. “Cool, Mingyu. It's really cool.”  
When he returned with the coffee, he found her staring out the window, lost in thought. He set the cup down gently, but instead of leaving, he spoke again.  
“Hey, I don’t mean to pry, but are you... writing something? You looked really focused earlier. Like, next-level focused. Are you an author? Or maybe a secret spy writing down your next mission?”  
The stranger sighed, looking back at him with an exasperated expression. “Do you always ask this many questions?”  
“Only when I’m curious,” Mingyu replied with a grin. “And I’m very curious about you. You’ve got that whole mysterious, ‘I’ve got secrets’ vibe going on.”  
The girl finally gave a hint of a smile, though it was barely noticeable. “Maybe I do.”  
That small flicker of amusement was all the encouragement Mingyu needed. “Okay, so you are a spy. Or an undercover rockstar. Oh! Or a—”  
“I’m sorry, but I’m trying to work,” she interrupted, though her tone was softer now.  
Mingyu took a step back, raising his hands. “Got it. I’ll leave you to it. But if you need anything—like a refill, a snack, or a friendly face—I’m your guy.”  
“But you said you don’t work here.” 
As he walked away, the stranger shook their head, a faint smile tugging at their lips. Mingyu may have talked too much, but there was something disarmingly genuine about him that made it hard to stay annoyed.  
Heading up to grab his own cup from the counter, Mingyu stole another glance at her and couldn’t help but wonder what kind of story they were carrying—and whether he’d somehow become a part of it.
The next afternoon, the café was busier than usual, filled with a mix of students typing away on their laptops and a few regulars deep in conversation. Mingyu was at the counter, enthusiastically explaining to another regular Mrs. Park how the secret to perfect coffee lay in "a gentle pour and a mindful attitude," when the bell jingled again.  
Mingyu's head snapped up, and sure enough, the girl from yesterday was back. This time, she seemed even more aloof, her eyes scanning the room briefly before settling back on her spot in the corner. She didn't notice Mingyu’s stare as she quietly set down her cherry red journal and began flipping through its pages.  
Mingyu found himself momentarily frozen in place, suddenly aware of how *awkward* his last encounter had been. "Don't be weird this time. Don't overdo it," he muttered to himself, but his mind was already spiraling into potential conversation starters. What if he said something she’d find interesting? What if he said too much?  
With a deep breath, Mingyu stepped away from the counter. He was *determined* to keep things casual.  
“Hey, you,” Mingyu called out, walking toward her table, “back again, huh? Is the coffee that good, or are you just here for a change of scenery?”  
The girl looked up from her journal, her eyes scanning him briefly before she spoke in her usual flat tone. “Just getting out of the house for a while.”  
Mingyu nodded, trying to read the mood. “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes, you just need a little break from your own four walls. I mean, my walls are full of stuff—vinyl records, old concert tickets, a couple of questionable cat sweaters... but still.”  
Her lips twitched, just for a second. “A questionable cat sweater?”  
Mingyu grinned. “Yeah. It’s got a picture of a cat wearing glasses, trying to look intellectual. But honestly, I think it just makes the cat look like it’s about to take over the world. It was for my work Christmas party, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t worn it more than once.”  
There was a moment of silence, and then the corner of her mouth curled up slightly. “I’d like to see that.”  
Mingyu’s heart did a little flip. She’s smiling. "It’s not for sale. Only available to cat enthusiasts who appreciate the depth of their feline overlords."  
Her smile lingered for just a second longer before it faded back into the neutral expression she wore so often. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said softly, her fingers tapping lightly on the table.  
Mingyu felt a brief hesitation. Maybe it was better not to press too hard. He had a tendency to run with a conversation until it got awkward, and right now, the conversation felt almost... comfortable.  
"So," Mingyu started, his mind racing for something else to say, “I’m guessing you’re writing more top-secret spy notes today? Or is it a shocking revelation about how you once got lost in a supermarket for three hours?”  
The girl’s eyebrow arched. “That’s an oddly specific guess.”  
Mingyu shrugged. “You'd be surprised how many people get lost in supermarkets. But, you know, it's all about the aisles and the lights. Before you know it, you're trapped in the frozen food section, wondering how you got there in the first place.”  
She watched him for a moment, then laughed softly—a real laugh this time, not just a polite chuckle. It was low, but genuine, and it made Mingyu’s chest feel lighter than it had in days.  
“Okay, I’ll admit that’s sort of funny, considering I assume you’re speaking from experience,” she said, surprising him even more. “But no, I’m not writing about that. Just...” She paused for a moment, her fingers stopping their restless tapping. “Just... trying to work through some things.”  
The shift in her tone was subtle, but Mingyu could feel the change. For the first time, he wasn’t just a guy talking too much. He was hearing her in a way that felt real, as if she was opening up to him without fully realizing it.  
“I get it,” Mingyu said, his voice softening. “Sometimes you just need a space to think things through. Like, I talk on the radio every night—way too much sometimes—but I guess it helps me sort out my own head.”  
The girl looked up at him then, her eyes lingering on his face with a quiet intensity that made his heart race.  
“You talk on the radio?” she asked.  
Mingyu chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah. You could say I’m kind of a big deal, I mean here anyway to people who know me” He made a vague gesture to the café around them. “But only to the people who are really into weird facts and  random stories. Like, one time I told my listeners about how I accidentally ended up with two lunch boxes after a miscommunication with a vending machine. I’m not proud of it, but hey, it makes for a great segment."  
She tilted her head slightly. “What else do you talk about?”  
Mingyu opened his mouth to reply, but then realized he was getting carried away. "Well, I don't want to bore you with my radio segment. Not everyone's cup of tea."  
She looked thoughtful for a second. “I’d listen to you.”  
His heart skipped. “Really?”  
“Maybe.” She leaned back in her chair, her gaze still steady. “If you were actually interesting enough.”  
Mingyu burst out laughing. “Okay, ouch. But I’ll take that as a challenge.”  
She shrugged, and for a moment, Mingyu just stood there, unsure whether he’d said something that was too much or if she was just being her usual, unreadable self.  
Finally, he broke the silence with a casual, “If you do end up listening, I’ll make sure to talk about my cat sweater for at least twenty minutes. That’ll make it worth your while.”  
A flash of amusement crossed her face. “I’ll hold you to that.”  
Mingyu smirked, making a mental note to talk in depth about his weird festive sweater, “Are you ever going to tell me your name?” 
“If you’re worth it.” A challenge from the enigma of a girl. 
“Okay, I’m Mingyu, by the way.” 
She just smiled as he walked off and went back to her black coffee without another word. 
Later in the night, the rain hitting the pavement outside of his office he watched as he had just finished setting up for his radio show. He spoke into the microphone, he could still feel the weight of his earlier conversation with the girl in the café. Something about her, her quiet mystery, had left him thinking, and for the first time in a long while, he felt calm on air.  
“Good evening, everyone,” Mingyu’s voice boomed through the mic. “I’m your host, Mingyu, here to take you through the night with some extremely random thoughts in between your hot hit countdown. But first, let’s talk about something near and dear to my heart: cats. Yes, that’s right. Cats. And how, in some cultures, they’re considered mystical beings that can sense your innermost thoughts. Which, if you ask me, explains a lot about why my cat is currently judging me for eating cereal at 11 PM.”  
He paused, chuckling to himself as he imagined the girl sitting in the corner of the café, maybe listening to him right now.  
“Anyway,” he continued, leaning into the mic. “If anyone out there has a cat sweater as legendary as mine, I’d love to hear about it. Or if you’ve ever gotten lost in a supermarket, accidentally adopting an extra lunchbox, send me a message. You know, just the things we all need to talk about. Let’s connect, guys. Let’s keep it real. If you’re watching us live right now on Youtube leave your stories in the chat or don’t hesitate to hit me up on twitter at gyunation.”  
The next morning, the café was as cozy as ever, with soft music playing in the background and a few early risers getting their caffeine fix. Mingyu was ordering coffee when the door opened again. He turned, already knowing who it was before she even walked in.  
The girl from the had returned. She gave him a small, knowing smile as she walked in and headed toward her usual table.  
Mingyu’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t expect to see you here again.”  
She raised an eyebrow. “I said I’d hold you to it.”  
He blinked. “Wait, what?”  
“You’re wearing your cat sweater today,” she said with a hint of a smile, her eyes glinting. “And I’m listening to you. Now, tell me about the mystical powers of cats, Mingyu.”  
Mingyu couldn’t help it. He grinned. He’d found a way to connect, just like he’d always hoped—through the stories, through the weirdness, and maybe, just maybe, through the unexpected bonds that only seemed to form when you weren’t trying so hard.  
“If you finally tell me your name.” 
“It’s y/n.” 
Mingyu blinked, a mix of surprise and excitement flickering in his eyes. "Y/N," he repeated slowly, as if savoring the sound of it. It was simple, yet it felt like a small victory. There was something about hearing her name that made everything feel a little less mysterious, a little more real.  
“I didn’t expect it to be so... normal,” Mingyu said with a half-joking grin, but there was a warmth in his tone that made the words feel genuine. "I was kind of hoping for something  cooler, like... I don't know, Phoenix or something. Or even Astrid, that would’ve been a great name."  
Y/N raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”  
Mingyu let out a short, embarrassed laugh. “Maybe. I get random ideas sometimes. Like, when I was younger, I was convinced my name should’ve been something cooler, like Max or Axel. But then I realized I was always just Mingyu. And now, well, I’m starting to like it." He hesitated for a second. “I’m starting to like the name y/n too.”  
There was a flicker of something in her expression, something soft and fleeting, before it was replaced with her usual composed demeanor. “I’m glad to know you like it. Mingyu is honestly a nicer name than Axel. Though, you’re still in trouble. I’m waiting for my cat wisdom.”  
Mingyu nodded enthusiastically, happy to follow the new flow of their conversation. He slid into the chair across from her, trying to hide the fact his hands were still slightly shaking from the excitement of actually talking with her. “Okay, okay. The mystical powers of cats—where do I even begin?” He leaned in dramatically, as if about to reveal some ancient secret.  
"First of all, cats are masters of manipulation," Mingyu began, gesturing with his hands for emphasis. "I mean, if you’ve ever had a cat sit on your lap, staring at you like they know you’ve got food, but they're too dignified to beg—that’s sort of like when you know you’re in their power."  
Y/N’s lips twitched, and for the first time, she seemed fully engaged in his rambling. “Manipulation, huh?” she murmured, leaning back in her chair. "I thought we were talking about mystical powers, not  deviousness."  
Mingyu grinned. “That is their mystical power, come on. They can manipulate you into giving them whatever they want, whether it’s food, affection, or a new scratching post. It’s all about the gaze, the quiet dominance. There’s a reason people say cats can see into your soul.”  
Y/N nodded slowly, clearly entertained. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. But what about the mystical part? You know, the one where cats are supposed to be magical, like, bringing good luck and stuff.”  
“That’s a good one.” Mingyu leaned forward, his eyes lighting up with the sudden spark of inspiration. “Well, think about it. Cats sleep all day, but when they wake up, they’re already confident they can get what they want. They just know that time is precious, that sleep is sacred, and that the real power is in being present when it counts.”  
He paused for a second, realizing that this wasn’t just him making random, funny observations anymore. There was something about how he’d said it—how focused he’d been—something deeper that he hadn’t planned for. Mingyu quickly shook his head, feeling a little embarrassed.  
“Okay, maybe I’ve been watching too many cat videos, but you get what I mean, right?”  
Y/N’s eyes softened, and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod. “I get it. Cats don’t waste time. They don’t do things for anyone but themselves. That’s kind of powerful.”  
“Exactly.” Mingyu’s smile was so wide it threatened to overtake his face. “It’s like they’ve got it all figured out. We’re all running around, doing a million things at once, but cats? They take it easy, let things come to them and somehow, it works out.”  
Y/N sat there, looking at him for a moment, before her gaze drifted down to her journal. "I never thought about it that way," she said quietly.  
Mingyu noticed the shift in her energy. It was subtle, but he could tell that his words had struck something deep. Before he could say anything more, she lifted her head again, her expression more thoughtful than before.  
"Maybe I need to take a page out of the cat playbook," she murmured, almost to herself.  
Mingyu watched her for a moment, wondering if he’d said too much, or if he was getting into dangerous territory where he might have pushed her too far with his endless chatter. But when she glanced back up at him, there was no irritation, only curiosity.  
“I think we all do,” Mingyu said softly. “We could all use a little more time to just be. No pressure. No rush. Just existing in the moment.”  
Y/N gave a small smile, and for the first time, Mingyu felt like it wasn’t just her pulling away from the world. It was almost like she was letting a piece of herself connect to him, in this little moment of vulnerability.  
"So," he said after a beat, trying to keep the conversation light, "what are you going to do now? Go home and take a nap like a true cat?"  
Y/N chuckled, the sound soft and genuine. "No, I think I’ll stay here for a bit longer." She looked up at him, her eyes glinting with amusement. "But maybe I’ll actually finish what I’m writing today. You know, before I get distracted by any more of your stories."  
Mingyu’s grin widened, feeling a sense of accomplishment that he hadn't realized he was craving. “I promise, I’ll keep the stories to a minimum. But if you need a distraction, you know where to find me.”  
She raised her cup of coffee, as if to make a toast. "I might just have to do that."  
Later that day Mingyu returned to his usual post at the counter on his break from the studio, his mind still buzzing with the conversation he’d just had with Y/N. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good about a conversation. His thoughts wandered back to her, and how she hadn’t seemed annoyed by his rambling. Instead, she’d actually listened—like she wanted to listen.  
As the afternoon light filtered through the café windows, he found himself stealing glances at Y/N from the counter. She was still scribbling in her journal, her focus so intense it was almost like she was channeling her own version of that "cat power" he had talked about earlier.  
And maybe, just maybe, he could be a part of her story. Or at least, part of the narrative she was writing in her mind.  
The thought made him smile to himself, and for the first time in a while, he felt like he wasn’t just talking to fill silence. He was talking because it felt like she was listening—and maybe, just maybe, she was starting to like the sound of his voice, too.  
Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed her things from the table and walked up to him standing in line,”I already got you another one, I remembered you came here around this time yesterday so I just took a shot.” Her fingers brushing against his in the exchange. 
“I think it’s going to be just what I need,” he said softly, her smile lingering.
Mingyu nodded, suddenly aware of the quiet space between them. For a moment, neither of them spoke, but there was something comforting in the silence, something deeper than just shared words. It was like they both understood that there was more here than just a random meeting. Maybe, just maybe, they were starting to find something that couldn’t easily be put into words.
“So, what’s on your agenda today?” Mingyu asked, leaning against the counter, trying to keep the conversation going. “Any secret missions? Any mysteries waiting to be solved?”
Y/N took a sip of her espresso, savoring the rich taste before setting the cup down and looking at him with a thoughtful expression. “Actually, yes. I have been thinking about something,” she said, her voice quieter now, more reflective. “I’ve been thinking about what it means to really be somewhere. You know? Per our earlier conversation. Not just physically, but mentally. To actually let yourself be present and not be running from one thing to the next.”
Mingyu’s brows furrowed as he processed her words. “I get that,” he said slowly, almost to himself. “I think... I think I’ve been running around like that a lot lately. Always filling up my time with stuff, trying to get things done, but I’m never really here, you know? It’s like, I’m always on autopilot.”
Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Exactly. It’s easy to get caught up in the noise. But sometimes, the quiet is where the answers are.”
Mingyu felt a strange warmth spread through him at her words. It was as though they were having a conversation that was much bigger than coffee, much bigger than just now. It felt like she was giving him a glimpse into something he wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself.
"You know," he said softly, "I think I needed to hear that today."
Y/N looked at him, her gaze steady. "I think you were meant to hear it."
The words hung between them, and for a moment, Mingyu felt like the whole world outside the café had faded into the background. It was just him and her, and in this small, quiet space, they had carved out a little corner of understanding.
But before he could say anything more, Y/N stood, her bag slung over her shoulder. “I should get going,” she said, offering him a gentle smile. “But I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Same time?” Mingyu asked, suddenly eager for the next day, for the next conversation, for the next moment with her.
She gave a slight nod, her smile turning a little more playful. “Same time. And don’t forget your charm, Mingyu.”
He laughed, feeling lighter than he had in days. “I’ll bring it. I promise.”
As Y/N left the café, Mingyu stood there for a moment, watching her go. He had no idea what was coming next, no idea what kind of story he and Y/N were writing together. But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the need to rush ahead to the next chapter. He was content to let it unfold, slowly and naturally, like the turning of a page.
And when the door swung closed behind her, he found himself already looking forward to tomorrow.
This time, he didn’t mind that he was talking too much.
It was a slow evening at the radio station. Mingyu leaned back in his chair, spinning lazily in circles while a groovy indie track filled the studio. The red ON AIR sign glowed softly above the window, casting the room in a warm, familiar light.  
"Alright, everyone," Mingyu said into the mic as the song faded. His voice slid effortlessly into his signature radio tone—smooth, playful, and just a touch self-deprecating. "It's your favorite over-sharer again. If you're tuning in tonight, let me know you're out there. Send me your requests, your shout-outs, or your best guess for how long it took me to ruin my dinner plans this week."  
As he flipped through a stack of vinyl records, his thoughts wandered. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the now not so stranger at the café. She had become a regular fixture in his life over such a short time, always sitting in the same corner, writing in that journal of hers.  
The thought made him smile, and before he knew it, he was speaking again.  
"You know," he began, leaning closer to the mic, "there’s this person who’s been hanging around my favorite café lately. They don’t say much, but there’s something about them—you know, the kind of person who’s like a locked treasure chest. You just want to figure out what’s inside. I, of course, have been trying to charm them with my wit and sparkling conversation. Has it worked? I’d say sort of. But hey, persistence is key, right?"  
He chuckled, then added, “Anyway, I’ve decided to name them ‘Mystery Corner Person.’ If you’re listening, MCP, this one’s for you.”  
Mingyu queued up the next track—a dreamy, nostalgic tune that felt just right. As it played, he leaned back and sighed, wondering if she's still listening to hear his ridiculous ramblings.  
But, she did. 
The next morning at the café, y/n walked in earlier than usual, her journal tucked under one arm. Mingyu was sitting at a high top table at the window when they approached him directly.  
“I heard your show last night,” she said, her voice as calm and unreadable as ever.  
Mingyu froze, a muffin balanced precariously in one hand. “Oh, uh—did you?”  
Y/n tilted her head. “Mystery Corner Person?”  
Mingyu’s ears turned pink. “That... might’ve been about you.”  
“I figured.” They placed their journal on the counter, resting their hand on the cover. “You’re very open. I was waiting for you to bring it up actually.”  
“I like to think it’s part of my charm,” he said, flashing a sheepish grin.  
For a moment, they just stared at him, and Mingyu worried he’d made a fool of himself again. But then, to his surprise, the stranger smiled—a real, genuine smile.  
“Your persistence is let’s just say.. entertaining,” she said, her voice carrying the faintest hint of warmth.  
Mingyu felt a rush of relief and a spark of something else—hope, maybe. “Does this mean you’ll give me a shot? By being friends, I mean. Or acquaintances. Or—well, anything, really.”  
Y/n chuckled softly, their smile lingering. “I’ll give you a shot.”  
As they turned to head to their usual corner, Mingyu couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And for the first time, he felt like he might actually be breaking through that carefully guarded exterior.  
He picked up his muffin and placed it back on the plate, walking over to their table with a little extra bounce in his step. Maybe his tendency to talk too much wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
“So, mystery corner person,” Mingyu started, his voice light, playful. “Does this mean we’re friends now, or are you just humoring me?”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips quivering. “I’d say we’re on the road to friendship. But I wouldn’t get too comfortable just yet.”
“Fair enough,” Mingyu said, leaning against the back of the chair across from her, still standing. He tried to suppress the urge to keep talking, but the words came tumbling out before he could stop them. “I’ll take what I can get. Besides, I’ve learned that sometimes it’s the quiet ones who have the best stories, and I’m betting you’ve got some good ones. Maybe you’ll share them with me one day.”
Y/N chuckled softly, the sound melodic. “I’m not exactly one for sharing my whole life, though. Not yet, anyway.”
“Well, no pressure,” Mingyu said quickly, lifting his hands as if in mock surrender. “You’ve got your own time. But I’ve got to warn you—I’m a terrible secret keeper. So if you start telling me anything too wild, I might end up broadcasting it.”
“Sounds dangerous,” Y/N replied, her tone a little teasing. “I’ll make sure to be careful around you then.”
Mingyu smiled at the playful challenge in her voice. He was surprised how easy it felt to talk to her now. There was something about her calm, unruffled nature that made him feel comfortable in a way he hadn’t expected.
He sat down at the edge of the table, leaning forward. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop with the radio host charm for now,” he said, waving his hand dramatically. “But you should know, it’s a hard habit to break. I’ve been talking to a microphone alone for so long, I forget there are real people out there sometimes.”
Y/N glanced at him over the rim of her coffee cup, the corner of her mouth turning up in a small smile. “I think it’s a good thing. You’ve got a way of making everything sound a little brighter.”
Mingyu blinked at her, taken aback by the unexpected compliment. He wasn’t sure how to respond at first, but he found himself chuckling, trying to play it cool. “Well, thank you. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said about my rambling.”
Y/N gave a slight shrug, but her eyes sparkled. “You make it sound like rambling is a bad thing. Sometimes, it’s nice to just say things and see where they go.”
“See?” Mingyu said, leaning in as if he’d cracked a code. “That’s what I’m talking about. You get it. You’re a fellow over-sharer in disguise, I just know it.”
Y/N let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe. But I’ll have to decide whether you’re worthy of knowing my secrets first.”
“Well, I can’t promise I won’t annoy you with my stories,” Mingyu said with a wink. “But I’m pretty good at keeping secrets. If it makes you feel better, I won’t be sharing anything you don’t want me to.”
“Hmm, we’ll see about that,” Y/N said, a sly smile tugging at her lips.
Mingyu chuckled, standing up from his chair and giving a mock bow. “Alright, I’ll leave you to write. But, just so you know, I’m very persistent, so you’re going to be seeing a lot of me, mystery corner person.” 
Y/n just waved him off, “For someone who wanted to learn my name so badly you’re in the habit of not using it.” 
“Ah, you’ll be hearing a lot more of it. Don’t worry too much.” 
Y/N shook her head with a faint smile, but just as he turned to leave, something tugged at her resolve. She called out after him, her voice hesitant yet firm enough to stop him in his tracks. “Mingyu?”
“Yeah?” He turned around quickly, almost like he’d been waiting for her to say his name again. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged, words hanging unspoken.
Y/N hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook as if it could anchor her nerves. “Would you want to have dinner or something? I mean now that we’re friends, I figured we could hang out more. Not just over coffee.”
Mingyu’s expression softened into a genuine smile, one that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. “I’d love that,” he said without hesitation. “How about tonight? I’m off at 7:30. Can we meet at Yeatta’s? It’s just a block or two from here.”
“Yeah, that works for me,” Y/N replied, her heart skipping a beat as she tried to play it cool.
“Great,” Mingyu said, his excitement barely contained as he gave her a small wave. “I’ll see you there, Y/N.”
As he walked away, Y/N found herself staring at the space he had just vacated, her lips curving into an uncontrollable smile. There was something about Mingyu that made her heart feel lighter—like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something worth holding onto.
Mingyu arrived at Yeatta’s at exactly 7:25, five minutes early but not surprising given the way he bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly eager. When Y/N walked in a minute later, scanning the small, warmly lit restaurant, she found him standing by the entrance, his smile lighting up as soon as he spotted her. 
“Right on time,” he teased, holding the door open for her. “I was starting to think you might stand me up.”
“Oh, please,” Y/N shot back, smirking as she stepped inside. “You’d just hunt me down at the coffee shop tomorrow.”
“True,” Mingyu admitted with a grin. “I’m nothing if not persistent.” 
They were seated at a cozy booth near the back, the smell of wood-fired pizza and roasted garlic wafting through the air. The atmosphere was relaxed, with dim lighting and soft jazz playing in the background. Y/N found herself relaxing more than she expected, her usual hesitations melting away under Mingyu’s easy charm.
“So,” Mingyu began, unfolding his napkin with a flourish, “are you going to finally tell me what you were writing so furiously in that notebook of yours?”
Y/N raised an eyebrow as she picked up the menu. “You mean the “mystery notebook” that you keep trying to pry into? Not a chance.”
“Come on,” he said, leaning forward with an exaggerated pout. “You can’t keep a secret forever. Especially not from me.”
Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Nice try. Maybe if you guess right, I’ll tell you.”
“Deal.” Mingyu grinned like he had already won. “But first, what’s your go-to comfort food? And what drinks should we get? I need to know if you’re a pizza or pasta person before it kills me.”
“Depends on the mood,” she said, glancing over the menu. “But tonight? Definitely pasta and red wine. You?”
“Pizza all the way, yes to the wine for sure, I might get white though? Better for the red sauce is what I’ve heard before, not sure if it’s true.” he said confidently. “ But I’m flexible. We can share if you want to try both.”
The waiter had just placed their wine glasses on the table, a rich red for Y/N and a sparkling white for Mingyu, who claimed he wasn’t much of a wine connoisseur but was always up for a little sparkle. As they clinked their glasses, the sound rang out softly, blending into the warm hum of conversation around them. 
“To new friends,” Mingyu said with a grin. 
“And persistent ones,” Y/N added with a sly smile before taking a sip. The wine was smooth, warming her from the inside as much as the company did. 
“So,” Mingyu began, leaning back comfortably in his chair, “tell me something about you I wouldn’t guess just by looking at you.”
Y/N tilted her head, thinking as she swirled the wine in her glass. “Hm,I used to play the cello when I was younger. Like, seriously. Competitions and everything.”
“No way,” Mingyu said, his eyes widening in surprise. “Why don’t you still play?”
“I got too busy with school, life, and, well, other things took over,” she said with a shrug, a touch of wistfulness in her voice. “But it was fun while it lasted. Your turn.”
“Something you wouldn’t guess about me?” Mingyu echoed, rubbing his chin theatrically. “Alright. I once auditioned for a cooking show.”
Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? What happened?”
“Well,” he began, leaning in like he was about to reveal a deep, dark secret, “I made it to the second round. But then I totally botched a dessert challenge because I got the sugar and salt mixed up.”
Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “Oh no! What were you trying to make?”
“A soufflé,” Mingyu groaned, dramatically slumping in his chair. “I thought I’d be impressive, but instead, I made the world’s saltiest disaster.”
“I would’ve loved to see that,” Y/N said, still laughing. “You’re brave, though. I can barely cook for myself, let alone under pressure.”
“Well, lucky for you, I happen to be a pretty decent cook these days,” Mingyu said with a wink. “Maybe I’ll redeem myself and cook for you sometime.”
Y/N arched an eyebrow but smiled. “We’ll see about that. I’ll be the judge. Ramsay style.” 
The conversation naturally shifted as the wine loosened their inhibitions. Y/N talked about her love for old bookstores and how she could lose hours flipping through dusty pages, imagining the lives of people who owned them before. Mingyu shared his obsession with spontaneous road trips, confessing that he once drove five hours just to try a diner he saw on TV. 
“You’re kidding,” Y/N said, incredulous but amused. “Was it worth it?”
“Absolutely,” Mingyu said, his eyes lighting up at the memory. “Best blueberry pancakes of my life..”
Y/N shook her head, smiling. “You’re so carefree. I don’t know if I could ever just get up and go like that.” 
“Why not?” Mingyu asked, genuinely curious. “Sometimes the best moments are the unplanned ones.”
“Maybe,” she conceded, taking another sip of wine. “But I’m more of a planner. I like knowing what’s ahead.”
“Well,” Mingyu said, his tone playful but with a trace of sincerity, “if you ever feel like throwing the plan out the window, let me know. I’m pretty good at finding adventures.”
Their conversation was momentarily interrupted when the waiter approached with their pizza—a perfectly charred margherita, the thin crust bubbling with golden edges, fresh basil leaves glistening against the vibrant red of the tomato sauce. The aroma alone made Y/N’s stomach rumble, but neither of them reached for a slice right away. Instead, they lingered over their wine, the warm, dim light casting a golden glow over the table as their laughter filled the space between them.
Mingyu leaned back in his chair, his grin wide as he recounted one of his more daring childhood memories. “So, I was about ten, and I decided I was going to build the fucking coolest treehouse in the neighborhood,” he said, gesturing animatedly. “I had this old plank of wood, some rusty nails, and no clue what I was doing, obviously. I climbed up this huge tree in my backyard—like, way higher than I should’ve—and started hammering away. Next thing I know, one of the branches snapped, and there I was, dangling halfway up the tree, screaming for my mom.”
Y/N gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, but the corners of her lips twitched in amusement. “No way. You didn’t fall, did you?”
“No,” Mingyu said, shaking his head dramatically. “But I was stuck for maybe three hours? My mom had to call the neighbors to bring a ladder. And the worst part? My treehouse was just some lame ass piece of wood dangling from the tree like I was. It wasn’t exactly the cool architectural design I pictured.”
Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “That’s hilarious. I can totally picture you as this ambitious little kid, full of big plans and no backup.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Mingyu said, chuckling. “I had all the ideas but zero execution. What about you? Any wild childhood adventures? Secret missions rather, since you’re a mystery.” 
Y/N hesitated for a moment, then her expression softened, a faraway look in her eyes. “You’re a little bit of a smartass, huh? When I was fifteen, I used to sneak out of the house late at night—not to go to parties or anything. I’d climb out my bedroom window and bike to this hill just outside town. It was the perfect spot to stargaze. I’d lie there for hours, just staring at the sky, convinced I was going to be an astronomer one day. And as I got older I still go sometimes, just to have a beer and sit alone, it helps me relax.”
Mingyu’s smile softened, his gaze lingering on her as she spoke. “That sounds really nice actually,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Why astronomy?”
“I think I liked how small it made me feel,” Y/N admitted, swirling her wine glass absently. “Like, no matter how big my problems seemed, they were nothing compared to the universe. Plus, I thought if I studied the stars, maybe I could find some meaning up there. I was always sort of lost as a kid, too shy to make a lot of friends, too terrible at sports to have nobody laughing at me when I would try out for teams, all that.”
“I feel like you’re selling yourself short,” Mingyu said sincerely. “So you still go?”
Y/N shook her head, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. “Not as much anymore. Life got busier, you know? But I think about it sometimes. I miss how peaceful it was.”
“Well,” Mingyu said, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eyes, “next time you want to chase stars, let me know. I think I have a spot you’d like.”
Y/N laughed, raising an eyebrow. “You’d sit in silence under the stars? No smart ass remarks or treehouse stories?”
“Hey, shut up. I can be quiet,” Mingyu defended, though his grin gave him away. “For a little while, at least. But no promises if I see a shooting star. You’re supposed to make a wish, right? Mine would be to bring alcohol and snacks.”
Y/N chuckled, shaking her head as she reached for a slice of pizza at last. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, here we are,” he teased, raising his glass for another toast. As their glasses clinked again, their laughter and stories spilled over like the wine in their glasses—easy, unhurried, and warm. Mingyu leaned back in his seat, his wine glass balanced loosely in his hand, and gave Y/N a look that was equal parts playful and sincere. “I’m serious, though. You tell me when you want to go stargazing, and I’ll make it happen. Snacks, drinks, blankets—you name it. I’ll even promise to be quiet for the first ten minutes.”
Y/N smirked, taking a small bite of her pizza. “Ten whole minutes of silence? That might actually be a record for you.”
“Don’t push it,” Mingyu shot back with a laugh. “You’d miss my voice too much.”
“Debatable,” she teased, but her smile lingered, softening the edge of her words.
They fell into a comfortable rhythm, their conversation weaving between playful banter and moments of genuine connection. Mingyu asked her more about her writing, his questions thoughtful and encouraging, and Y/N found herself sharing more than she expected—her half-formed ideas, her struggles with self-doubt, and her dream of one day publishing a book that might make someone feel the way she did when she opened a favorite story.
“I feel like you’re already halfway there,” Mingyu said, his tone serious now. “You light up when you talk about it. It’s nice to see you smile talking about something.”
She looked down at her glass, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Maybe it’s not easy,” he admitted, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. Besides, if you ever need a cheerleader, I’m available. Very affordable, too—just pay me in pizza.”
Y/N laughed, her nerves dissolving under his earnest encouragement. “I’ll keep that in mind. What about you? What’s your big dream?”
Mingyu hesitated for a moment, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. “Honestly? I think I’m still figuring it out. But I know I want to make people happy, you know? Whether it’s through cooking, making them laugh, or just being there when they need someone. That’s what feels right to me.”
“That’s a pretty great dream,” Y/N said, her voice softening. “And I think you’re already doing it.”
Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the noise of the restaurant seemed to fade away. Mingyu’s smile turned a little sheepish, and he scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I’m glad to know I’ve got at least one satisfied customer.”
Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “You’re not  terrible company, I guess.”
“High praise,” Mingyu teased, raising his glass again. “To not being terrible company.”
Y/N clinked her glass against his, her laughter mixing with his as they returned to their meal. As the night wore on, the slices slowly disappeared, but the conversation never lost its spark. They lingered long after the plates were cleared, talking about everything from childhood dreams to places they wanted to travel.
Eventually, the waiter discreetly dropped off the check, and Mingyu reached for it without hesitation. “Don’t even think about it,” he said when Y/N protested.
“I could’ve at least split it with you,” she said, crossing her arms.
“You could have,” Mingyu replied with a cheeky grin. “But then I wouldn’t get to say I treated you on our first official hangout. You can cover the snacks for stargazing—deal?”
Y/N sighed, shaking her head with a smile. “Deal.”
As they stepped out into the crisp night air, the city lights casting a soft glow on the streets, Mingyu turned to her. “So, was I as annoying as you thought I’d be?”
“Annoying? Yes,” Y/N said, her lips twitching in amusement. “But I don’t mind.”
“I’ll take it,” Mingyu said with a laugh. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N. It was probably one of the most fun things I’ve done in a while.” 
“It was,” she admitted, surprised by how much she meant it. “See you tomorrow, persistent coffee guy?”
“Oh, you’ll see me,” he said, winking before turning to head down the street. “Unless I see you first, Mysterious Corner Person.”
Y/N watched him walk away, a warmth settling in her chest. As she started toward home, she couldn’t help but smile, already looking forward to their next meeting.
As the dawn broke, the soft glow of the morning sun streamed through the windows of the café, casting a warm hue over everything. Y/N sat at her usual corner spot, absently scrolling through her phone while waiting for her favorite annoying friend. The comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the sound of light chatter and the clinking of cups. She hadn’t quite managed to shake off the memory of last night—Mingyu's laughter, the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke, and the lingering warmth of their conversation.
Just as she checked her watch to see if Mingyu had been late or not, she heard the tinkle of the doorbell, drawing her attention. In walked Mingyu, a wide grin plastered on his face, walking up to grab two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. Y/N’s heart did a little flip; she couldn't help but smile back as he approached her with the casual confidence that always made her stomach flutter.
“I brought you your favorite,” he said, placing the cup in front of her. “Consider this an apology for being too charming last night. I didn’t mean to sweep you off your feet or anything.” The teasing lilt in his voice made Y/N chuckle, though she rolled her eyes playfully, masking the warmth tinting her cheeks.
“Too charming, huh? Is that even a thing?” she shot back, taking a sip and savoring the familiar taste. With every interaction, she found herself drawn deeper into the lighthearted banter they had cultivated. He sat down across from her, his playful nature washing away any remnants of a serious morning.
As days turned into weeks, those spontaneous coffee runs became the highlight of Y/N's mornings. Each day, Mingyu would find a new reason to linger—asking about her weekend plans, recounting strange dreams that had caused him to wake up giggling, or debating the merits of pineapple on pizza. There were moments when their conversations would drift into deeper territory, discussing their aspirations, fears, and the odd twists life threw their way. 
Y/N soon discovered that Mingyu had an uncanny ability to make even the most mundane topics feel important. One Tuesday, as they squabbled over the best pizza toppings, he insisted, “Peppers and onions bring out the true flavor of the cheese!” which led to an impromptu debate that had them both laughing until their sides hurt. 
She found herself anticipating these morning rituals, a bubble of happiness blossoming in her chest at the mere thought of seeing him. What started as a casual coffee run had morphed into something undeniably special—she began to crave his company more than she cared to admit. 
Despite her attempts to play it cool, every shared laugh, every gently lingering gaze exchanged started to intertwine their lives in ways she hadn’t expected. Each day, the corner café felt a little more like a second home, not just because of the coffee, but because of Mingyu’s presence. Occasionally, she’d catch herself daydreaming about what it would be like to invite him over for a pizza night or to share a quiet evening watching movies, a little voice in her head whispering fears of slipping from friendship into something deeper—something beautiful yet terrifying.
But for now, they relished the simplicity—the easy comfort of shared coffee, laughter, and the exhilarating thrill of something unspoken hanging softly between them, waiting for the right moment to blossom.
After weeks of easy laughter and coffee-filled mornings, Mingyu—emboldened by Y/N's growing fondness for their time together—decided it was time to showcase his culinary prowess. He had mentioned his love for cooking during one of their coffee chats, specifically teasing about a past cooking show attempt that had ended in disaster when he mistakenly used salt instead of sugar in a dessert. It was an absolute failure, but the way he recounted it had left Y/N in stitches, and she couldn’t help but encourage him to put that experience behind him. 
So it was with a mischievous smile that Mingyu sent her a message inviting her over to his place for a “proper meal.” His confidence was infectious, and Y/N found herself excited at the prospect of spending an evening cooking together, even if she glimpsed a little fear behind her excitement.
That Saturday evening, Y/N arrived at his apartment with a spring in her step, holding a bottle of wine as her contribution to the dinner. Mingyu greeted her at the door, a cute apron tied around his waist, and his hair slightly tousled as if he had been preparing all day. The kitchen already smelled inviting, with the simmering of something savory in the background.
“Welcome to my kitchen.” he declared, flinging open his arms in mock grandeur. “Prepare to be blown away.” Y/N giggled, feeling a playful banter already brewing between them as they stepped into the kitchen. 
They started a little unsure, mixing up ingredients and dancing around each other in the small space. Laughter filled the air as he guided her through the preparation of their meal. Chopping vegetables turned into a chopping competition, resulting in some accidentally discarded pieces flying across the countertop. They were both a bit clumsy, but it only added to the charm of the evening. 
However, chaos ensued as Y/N intentionally mixed up the sugar and salt while measuring the ingredients for the sauce. As a callback to make fun of Mingyu’s cooking show embarrassment hoping he wouldn’t take it to heart too much. 
Mingyu’s face morphed from confusion to pure horror as he tasted the sauce. “What is this? Are you fucking with me?” he exclaimed, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably, a burst of laughter erupting between them.
“Hey, I thought we could give you a call back to your days as an aspiring chef. You were just telling me to ‘add seasoning’!” Y/N retorted, her laughter bubbling over. 
The kitchen transformed into a battleground of flour and spills as they attempted to clean up the mess, dashing here and there grabbing paper towels and laughing uncontrollably as they dodged flour clouds that seemed intent on sticking to every surface—including themselves. The floor bore witness to a sprinkling of flour footprints leading from sink to counter and back. 
“Okay, okay. Clearly, we’re not going to win a Michelin star tonight,” Mingyu chuckled, wiping a hand across his forehead, flour now dusting his cheek. 
“Maybe we should just clean up and order takeout? Sorry for fucking up your nice meal” Y/N suggested with a grin, realizing neither of them had even started on the main course yet. 
“I have a feeling this was your plan all along, think I’m going to poison you?” He nodded enthusiastically. 
“Absolutely.” 
They huddled over his phone, browsing menus and sharing a laugh about different food combinations, all the while enjoying the relaxed comfort of each other’s company. As they placed their order, Mingyu playfully bemoaned the “greatest culinary disaster of the century,” and Y/N couldn’t help but tease him about his cooking abilities.
When the food finally arrived, they sat down on the couch, a jumble of takeout containers and mismatched plates, laughter still dancing in the air. They dug in, enjoying their food with a warmth that stemmed not just from the flavors but from the shared experience that had turned their simple dinner into pure chaos, followed by comfort as their legs touched settled into his cozy sofa, which they both pretended not to acknowledge. 
In between bites, their conversation flowed easily, the earlier chaos of the kitchen forgotten, only to be replaced by gentle teasing and heartfelt discussions. The evening had not gone as planned, yet in those moments, Y/N felt a closeness to Mingyu that she hadn't fully anticipated and wasn’re sure what it meant. 
As they polished off the last of their takeout, they leaned back against the couch, feeling the loosening tension from the day, laughter still bubbling between them. She glanced at him, his face lit up with a satisfied grin, and realized that this was far more memorable than if everything had gone perfectly. The spilled flour and overly salty sauce had become their personal anecdotes, stories to reminisce about, etched into their growing relationship. 
And even amid the mess, she felt something shift—this was more than just a casual evening; it was a bond that deepened with every laugh shared and every slight mistake made together. In the cozy warmth of the moment, Y/N found herself contemplating just how right it felt to be here with Mingyu. 
“Do you-” 
They both said at the same time, their laughter flowing still. Y/n prompted Mingyu to talk first, grabbing the can of sweating beer sitting on his coffee table and taking a swig. 
“No, just do you ever think about how crazy it is that we met each other?” Mingyu watched y/n's expression as if she was a television character. “We were strangers a few weeks ago and now here we are, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.” 
Y/N felt a warmth bloom in her chest at his words, a flutter of something electric that made her heart race. Swallowing her sip of beer, she considered his question, the implications of it wrapping around her like a blanket. “It is sort of crazy,” she replied softly, leaning back against the couch and crossing her arms as she reflected on their journey. “Just a few weeks ago, we were two random people in a coffee shop, sharing awkward small talk over our drinks.”
Mingyu chuckled, his laughter warm and inviting, causing Y/N to smile at the memory. “Right? I remember how you tried to hide your eye roll when I started rambling about my guilty pleasure shows. You've been way more patient with my quirks than I deserve.”
“Hey, you didn’t have to twist my arm to talk about junk food and reality TV. That’s a gift you offered me,” she replied, nudging him playfully with her elbow. “But seriously, I don’t know. It just feels almost too easy with you.”
He nodded, the sincerity on his face deepening. “Absolutely. I had this fear that after my cooking show mishap, I’d never cook for anyone ever again. But, somehow, I feel comfortable with you. Like I can be myself—flour-covered and all.. 
“I get that.” she replied, her heart still racing from the way his eyes searched hers, filled with an openness that was rarely offered. “It’s everything—our late-night talks about nothing and everything, all those moments and I like that I don’t feel pressure to impress you.”
Mingyu’s gaze softened as he let her words sink in, a smile spreading across his face—a mix of relief and happiness. “I feel the same way. I guess it’s nice to find someone who can appreciate you for who you are, flaws and all.”
“I thought you didn’t have any flaws?” 
The atmosphere shifted slightly, a gentle gravity settling around them as they shared this moment of vulnerability. It felt like the world outside had faded away, leaving only the sacred space between them filled with thoughtful breaths and unspoken words.
Then, suddenly, Mingyu leaned a little closer, his elbow resting on his knee as he caught her gaze with an intensity that made her heart flutter even more. “You know… I think the best part about getting to know you is discovering how we both navigate our own messiness. We’re both a little chaotic in our own ways, and it’s refreshing to find someone else who can embrace that.”
Y/N felt her cheeks heat up as Mingyu’s honesty wrapped around her like warmth. She knew that beneath the laughter and playful teasing, he was speaking to something significant happening between them. “It’s like we balance each other out, right? Your zero flaws perfectly complement my complete lack of many. ”
He threw his head back in laughter, and it vibrated through them both like a comforting echo. Touching her thigh out of instinct. 
Mingyu’s expression shifted then, his eyes earnest yet playful as he leaned in closer, robes of laughter giving way to something deeper. “Okay, but in all seriousness—what do you think happens next for us? I mean, if we keep this up?”
Y/N swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question, a mixture of excitement and vulnerability swirling in her chest. Tilting her head slightly, she studied his face, a thought bubbling to the surface that she hadn’t articulated before. “I guess we keep figuring it out. I know that’s a lame ass answer, but-” 
Mingyu’s face brightened, and he nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll have takeout nights, of course—maybe even attempt cooking again when we’re feeling bold.”
“Yes. But with a solid plan in place this time,” she teased, her heart warming at his enthusiasm. “whatever this is.”
“Whatever this is,” he echoed with a soft smile, stretching his arm out along the back of the couch, leaving just enough space for her to lean against him if she wanted to. The gesture lingered in the air, an invitation that made her pulse quicken.
Taking a deep breath, Y/N felt a wave of courage washing over her. She shifted closer, rationally giving way to instinct, and in that moment of intimacy, she let herself lean against him, their bodies fitting together effortlessly. 
“And I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else,” she murmured softly, feeling a profound shift in their dynamic as she nestled against Mingyu’s side. Warmth enveloped her, not just from his body, but from the genuine connection they had forged. She took her hands to his warm cheeks and brushed off the lingering flour, running her fingers over his soft lips. 
Mingyu’s arm instinctively draped around her shoulders, holding her close, and she felt an undeniable sense of belonging in his presence. “You can’t be this close to me and not kiss me.” he replied quietly, and she could hear the sincerity in his voice, the gravity of their shared moment.
As she stared at him in silence for a minute, a smile washed over her face as she leaned in and made a path to his lips with hers instead at the last minute swerving and giving him a kiss on the cheek playfully. 
Laughter bubbled between them, lightening the tension that had built in the air. Mingyu looked momentarily surprised, his eyes widening and brows raising in mock disappointment. “Oh, come on. That was a dick move.”
Y/N giggled, the sound of a playful melody that danced around them in the cozy space. “I couldn’t help it. The look on your face was so worth it.” She winked mischievously, enjoying how their moment, which had felt so heavy and charged just seconds before, had shifted into this playful teasing.
Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head in playful disbelief. “You’re so mean.” He feigned frustration, but the warmth of his expression and the sparkle in his eyes told her just how much he enjoyed her whimsy.  
Pride swelled within her at his compliment, and her cheeks flushed at the spontaneity of it all. They were sharing this beautiful blend of fun and intimacy—a carefree-ness that made her heart flutter and her stomach twist into knots of anticipation. She hesitated for a moment, still wrapped in the warmth of his presence, contemplating allowing the moment to settle in further. 
“Okay, okay… I’ll redeem myself,” she said softly, meeting his gaze with a hint of seriousness beneath her earlier teasing. The shift in her tone caught his attention, and his playful expression faded slightly, replaced with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
“Are you sure?” Mingyu asked, his voice low and filled with a vulnerability that made her heart ache in the best way. 
Y/N bit her lip, feeling the boldness wash over her again, surpassing any lingering nerves. “I am,” she assured him, her heart hammering as she leaned in closer this time, matching his gaze as they hovered just inches apart. “I guess we’ve come too far to hold back now, right?” 
“Right,” he breathed, his eyes darkening with something primal, something that sent a shiver of excitement coursing through her. The air between them felt charged, electric, as if they were daring each other to bridge the final distance.
In one swift movement, she closed the small gap, finally pressing her lips against his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, teetering on the edge of hesitation, but as Mingyu responded—his lips molding to hers with a warmth she'd yearned for.
Time seemed to blur around them as they savored the kiss, allowing the moment to expand, realizing that this was a milestone in their relationship. Y/N’s heart raced as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer still; she could feel the way he leaned into her, matching her eagerness. Each touch ignited sparks, tossing her into a whirlwind of longing that was both intoxicating and exhilarating. 
When they finally pulled back, breathless, she leaned her forehead against his, her heart racing from the tenderness that hung in the air between them. Mingyu’s eyes were bright, reflecting the disbelief and joy of their shared moment. “Wow.” 
“Yeah?” she asked softly, a shy smile breaking across her face. “Because, I’d say it was mediocre.” 
The lightness returned, and Mingyu laughed, the sound lifting her spirits even more. “Shut up, you’re a liar, you were basically begging me for more. ”
“I might need another later, just so you can redeem yourself.” 
“I can make that happen, you know.” 
They grinned at each other, a shared understanding deepening their connection even further. The world outside felt like an echo, distant and unimportant as they savored this newfound bond, filled with untapped potential and the joy of each other’s company.
“Can you imagine what our friends would say if they knew we spent the night making a mess and then ended with a make-out session?” Mingyu said, his laughter still dancing in the air.
Y/N shook her head, chuckling softly. “Who knows? They might be incredibly jealous we got to have missed out on our “disaster” of an evening. But honestly, I wouldn’t change it for anything.”
“Me neither,” he replied, his tone shifting back to sincerity. “But just so you know, I’m claiming the next time we cook together you just sit and watch.”
“And why is that?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow in playful skepticism, her heart dancing at his enthusiasm.
“So I can look sexy for you in the kitchen and you might kiss me again, obviously.” he declared dramatically. 
Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her heart swelling with affection for his silliness. “Alright, chef. You have yourself a deal. But next time? I’m bringing dessert.”
“Maybe I’ll just have you for dessert.” Mingyu said with a teasing grin, and she felt her cheeks flush once again in delight. 
With that playful banter, the rest of the night melted away into easy laughter, light touches, and the thrill of new beginnings. She felt something incredible blooming between them, something beautiful that blended friendship with a newfound romantic spark, and she couldn’t wait to see where their journey might take them next. 
As they settled back on the couch, Y/N nestled against him once more, content with the knowledge that whatever chaos life threw their way, they would tackle it together—with laughter, love, and perhaps a little less clothes involved.
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demonic0angel · 1 month ago
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Delusion (click for clarity)
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Part of this AU where Jazz is Jason’s assistant.
I was legit giggling to myself when I drew this. I think Jason should be so besotted and in love with Jazz that it’s genuinely embarrassing for everyone.
He hasn’t even seen her face yet 😔
Inspired by the Lego Movie scene where Emmett is being completely delusional about Wyldstyle lmaooo
Image description below:
Panel 1 has Jazz covered up in a helmet and leather bodysuit. She’s looking at a piece of paper and reading off of it.
Jazz: So on the agenda today, we have a new shipment coming in tonight…
Panel 2 has Jason looking at her in his Red Hood costume, hand on his chin as he nods. Jazz is still talking off screen.
Jason: Mhm.
Jazz: … and at 1, we have a meeting with…
Panel 3, 4, 5 can be summarized as Jazz, now seen from Jason’s POV, is acting cute and sexy. The background is pink and there are hearts and flowers around her. This is only Jason’s delusions.
Jazz: *as per Jason’s daydreaming* Blah, blah, blah… Proper name. Place name. Logistics stuff…
Panel 6 has Jason, immersed in his fantasies, blushing as he nods even more.
Jason: … mhmm…
Panel 7 has everyone in chibi form, with people surrounding Jazz and Jason at a table, clearly still in a meeting, all staring at each other in various degrees of awkwardness, confusion, and disgust. Jazz looks exasperated while still speaking and Jason is still having fantasies, hearts all around him.
There are two captions: 1) the boss, completely distracted (while pointing to Jason) and 2) The subordinates, aware of his daze, but can’t stop him (while pointing to Jazz and the other people).
Jazz: *sweating* We also have a meeting with…
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paradiseprincesss · 1 month ago
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˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝑻𝑶𝑶 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬 | Cillian Murphy
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𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 — Are y'all sick of my "ushy gushy" smut yet? LOL. Also ya'll fw this new layout? I fear it's kinda cute and slay...
𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 — Cillian's wife and kids are out of town, and your parents are in Italy for the next month, leaving you home alone. What's the harm in getting close and spending some time with your slightly awkward, DILF neighbour?
𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 — 3.3k
𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺 -> 18+ ONLY smut, age gap (unspecified but reader is in college, Cillian is late 40's), cheating on both ends lol, Cillian is married with kids but reader dont give a fuck like ok baddie
𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
Cillian watched you in your window from his window, in his home, across from yours. Curiosity gets the best of everyone; sometimes you just wonder what your neighbours get up to. 
That’s what Cillian was doing — he was just curious about what the young, beautiful, sweet college student next door was up to. His house faced yours, which meant if you left your curtains open, he could see into your home…but in the year you’ve lived across from him, it’s not like he’d ever seen you do anything except the most mundane things. 
Flipping through the pages of your textbook and taking notes, calling your friends on the phone and giggling at something they said, posing adorably for some selfies in your kitchen to send to god knows who or post to god knows where. He didn’t understand it, but it was cute, reminding him of the years so far behind him now. 
It was innocent…until it wasn’t. 
You moved from your hometown with your parents to Dublin, Ireland a year ago, leaving your life behind and attending college here instead. Cillian talked quite a bit with your parents, hence the whole “neighbours” thing, but he always found you to be sweet…and his wife and kids seemed to think so too.
Last week, you’d mentioned to his wife that your parents were going to Italy for the next month to travel, and he couldn’t help but find himself wondering what you’d do when you were home alone. Probably studying, she seems pretty invested in school, he thought. 
It was almost time for his kids to go to sleep, and he could hear his wife talking to them as she got them ready for bed, but he stood in his living room and watched you through your bedroom window. You were giggling on the phone with who he assumed were your friends, and he sighed to himself as he saw your youthful smile. He was reminiscent of his younger years as he watched you.
He observed as you threw your phone down for a second on your bed, before getting up and— 
His jaw went slack as he did a double take. You casually started to take your clothes off and tossed them onto the floor of your bedroom, but that’s not what caused him to lose his composure. 
His eyes widened and his heart rate accelerated as his blue eyes wandered all over your figure, watching you from the window and unable to look away as he took in the lacy, intricate and extremely sexy lingerie you were wearing under that baggy sweater you had on not even a minute ago. 
The see-through lace hugged your body beautifully, and the material allowed him to see your perky breasts through the sheerness of it. He almost choked when you bent over to grab your phone from your bed again, as the lingerie left pretty much nothing to the imagination. 
“Fuck,” he mumbled aloud to himself, feeling his cock starting to strain against his pants. This was wrong. Oh, it was so wrong — but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. 
He watched with a clear hard-on now as you held your phone up, giggling to yourself as you started to pose and take pictures in the lingerie, presumably sending them to some very lucky guy. Who were you sending them to? Who was getting to see your body up close like that? Who—
“Honey?” His wife’s voice cut through his thoughts, and he turned around as she came into the kitchen. He leaned against the island in the middle of his kitchen to hide how hard he was. God bless this kitchen counter, he thought. “What are you looking at? I kept calling you upstairs.” 
“Right, erm,” he coughed, clearing his throat and turning around to your window to see you were no longer in your room. It was just an empty, dimly lit bedroom in his view now. “Nothing. Thought I saw a deer or somethin’ in the yard.” 
His wife hummed in acknowledgment, clearly unaware that he was just basically participating in some form of voyeurism with the girl next door who was young enough to be his daughter.
“Don’t forget to drop the dog off next door tomorrow at noon,” his wife reminded him, and Cillian’s breath hitched at the reminder.
Fuck. He forgot that his wife and kids were going to visit his wife’s side of the family for the week. He couldn’t go due to a conflict in his work schedule, but he was going to drive them there and pick them up the following week. He also forgot that his wife asked you to watch Scout, the dog, for the day while he drove them up there. 
“Cillian?” His wife asked as she looked at him with a raised brow. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah, I heard you,” he said as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’ll bring Scout over at noon tomorrow.” 
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
You’d just tossed on your most cozy oversized sweater and some short-shorts as you headed downstairs, hearing knocking at your front door. As you swung the front door open, you saw Cillian standing there with Scout, who started to wag his tail happily. 
“Hey,” you smiled at him before you started petting Scout. “And hello to you too, Scout!” 
As you took the leash from Cillian, he looked flustered as he swallowed, giving you a small smile. “Thank you again for watching him.” 
“Oh, it’s really no issue!” You assured him with a friendly smile. “I’m home all day studying anyways, and my parents are out of town for the next month. I could use the company — plus, me and Scout are best buds anyways.”
Scout barked happily, and you continued to give him a few more pats. Cillian couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander back to last night; the image of you in your sexy, lace lingerie was still fresh in his mind. He cleared his throat, “Well, I’ll come and swing by around 6 to pick him up. Not too late, is it?”
“Gosh, not at all,” you giggled, letting Scout roam through your home as you started to close the door slightly. “I’ll be up late studying so…” 
“Thanks again,” Cillian said, waving goodbye to you as you shut the door softly.
Later on that day, once Cillian returned home after dropping his wife and kids off at his mother-in-law's house, he knocked on your front door once more to pick Scout up. 
You opened the door and smiled sweetly as soon as you saw him, “Hi, Cillian! How was the drive?” Your voice gave him butterflies, and he knew it was wrong, but after seeing you and what you got up to after dark, he couldn’t help it. 
“Ah, it was good — boring,” he joked, his smooth, Irish accent making you blush a bit as you handed him Scout’s leash, to which he handed you something as well. 
He handed you an iced coffee with a warm smile, “Here — just a little thank you for watching Scout. I remember you saying iced coffee was your favourite a while back, plus you mentioned you’d be studying all night…” 
“You didn’t have to do that!” You said sweetly, returning his warm smile, and taking the coffee from him. “But thank you, I could definitely use the caffeine.” 
You waved him off as he left with Scout and closed the front door behind you. As you got back to your kitchen, you felt yourself getting giddy for some reason after your interaction with him, though you tried to push it aside. He was just your much older, super attractive, neighbour — oh, and he was married with kids. 
You shook the thoughts out of your head as you placed the coffee down on your kitchen counter, suddenly noticing some scribbled letters on the side of the clear, plastic coffee cup. When you spun it around, you saw a handwritten message on it, and your heart stopped for a split second. 
Thank you, pretty girl :) 
You blinked a few times as you stared at it. Your eyes lingered on the handwriting, momentarily caught off guard. Was he just being friendly or was there an ulterior motive behind it? 
The following day, you returned home from your classes, and as you got out of your car, you noticed Cillian coincidentally unlocking the front door to his house with some grocery bags in hand. He glanced up as he pushed open his front door and saw you, a friendly smile crossed his expression. 
“Following me home?” He teased, and you giggled whilst you shook your head, textbooks in hand. 
“I mean, if I was following you, I’d definitely be trying to sneak a peek at what you’re cooking for dinner.”
Seizing the moment, he decided to just be bold with it. “Yeah? Why don’t you come over then?” 
“…What, like right now?” 
“You can tell me all about your classes while I cook dinner,” he replied innocently as you walked over to his front door. His words made you feel awfully juvenile…and excruciatingly hot and bothered. 
As you got comfortable in his kitchen, he unpacked the groceries and you sat on a barstool against his counter, watching the way his t-shirt was ever so slightly too tight against his arms and chest, showing his muscles off. 
“Make yourself comfortable. How does pasta sound?” 
“My favourite,” you giggled. “...So, do you always invite your neighbours over to help with dinner or am I just special?” 
Cillian glanced over his shoulder as he prepped the ingredients. “You’re definitely special. I’m not usually this straightforward, but something about you…” He trailed off and the unspoken tension lingered in the air. 
“Speaking of being ‘straightforward’ — I have to ask about that coffee from yesterday.” 
“Oh? What about it?” He feigned innocence. 
“Well, I couldn’t help but notice the cute note on the cup. ‘Thank you, pretty girl’? It definitely caught my attention...” 
“I’m glad it did,” he chuckled before pausing for a moment. “…I meant it, though. You’re very pretty.”
You looked at him with wide eyes, and he turned back to look at you again, his blue eyes making your breath hitch. “I– well, thanks,” you laughed thinly with a blush. “Sorry–I just didn’t expect you to think…I just…” 
His gaze continued to linger on you as his expression softened. “I hardly think you find this surprising considering you must get guys chasing after you all the time,” he said as he took a step closer to you. “You know, this isn’t the first time I’ve…noticed you.”
Your breath caught in your throat as you sensed some weight behind his words. “Oh? Noticed me how?” 
Cillian hesitated for a beat before he decided to push the boundaries, seeing how far this could go. How far you would allow him to take it. “I saw you the other night, through your window. Taking those pictures…”
You went wide-eyed as you let his words sink in. “You were watching me through my window?!” Your voice came out in a shocked whisper, and he bit his lip shamelessly.
“I didn’t mean to at first–” he choked out in an attempt to defend his behaviour. “But once I saw you I couldn’t look away…”
You paused, and the silence hung heavy in the air before you spoke up.
“Well, if you’re that curious, I could always show you the pictures. Or…” You swallowed as you looked at him, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I could just show what’s underneath my clothes right now...”
His eyes went wide and he got closer to you, hesitantly reaching his arm around your waist as he pulled you into him. His eyes darkened, breath catching on your words. He hesitated, clearly torn morally. “You know I’m married…” he whispered, but it seemed like he was attempting to remind himself that rather than telling you.
“Right…and I was sending those pictures to my boyfriend,” you casually replied. 
Cillian’s eyes flashed with something dark, a mixture of surprise and unspoken jealousy. His resolve broke completely, unable to hold back anymore. There was no point in pretending to resist now, and he let out a sigh as he cupped your face.
“So, we’re both breaking a few rules then?”
Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you looked up at him far too innocently for what was happening right now. “You know what they say about rules,” you whispered. “They’re meant to be broken.” 
Cillian suddenly closed the gap between you two, kissing you with a hunger that felt insatiable. His hands came to pull you right up against him, and you gasped into the kiss when you could feel how hard he was already. He’d barely even touched you. 
You kissed him back with a hunger that surprised you both, and your hands came to clutch onto his shirt. He backed you into the countertop, which started to dig into your back, but that was the last thing on your mind — him fucking you being the first. You continued to kiss each other feverishly until neither of you could stand the build-up anymore. 
Between sloppy, dirty, messy kisses and wandering hands all over one another’s bodies, he started to undress you right in the middle of his kitchen. You only hoped your other neighbours weren’t as “curious” as he was and god forbid they looked through his kitchen windows as he ran his warm hands all over you at this very moment.
“Shit,” he choked out when your clothes hit the floor, revealing some rather racy lingerie underneath. “Are you tryna’ kill me?” 
“Am I getting you all worked up?” You teased, as you ran your hands against his chest. “You know I’m young enough to be your daughter, right?” 
“C’mon, baby,” he groaned, tilting his head back as you cupped his cock through his jeans. “That shouldn’t turn me on but, fuck, you keep talkin’ like that and I’m not gonna last…”
“We haven’t even fucked yet,” you giggled, pulling him in for another kiss. “Do me a favour — try not to give yourself a heart attack when you put it in, okay old man?” 
“Shut up,” he scoffed a laugh before kissing you passionately again. His hands snaked behind you, unclasping your sheer, lacy bra before it fell to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your matching panties. In retaliation, you got him out of his shirt before he turned you around and pressed you against the cold marble of his kitchen counter.  
“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mumbled as he gave your ass a light slap, causing you to moan. He slowly pulled your panties down from behind you, letting out a groan as he took in the sight of your drooling cunt, all soaked and ready for him to fuck.
He hoisted one of your legs up onto the kitchen counter and placed one of his hands on your hips. You heard his belt being unbuckled and his jeans being unzipped as he pulled his throbbing cock out, the tip flushed and leaking. He inhaled sharply as he pumped his cock a few times with his hand, before running his fingers through your dripping folds. 
“Look at that,” he cooed by your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “All soaked and ready for this cock, yeah?”
“Fuck,” you sighed, feeling him poke your entrance with the tip of his cock. “Need you inside of me, please.”
“Yeah, I bet, baby,” he said softly before pushing himself into you fully with one swift, long thrust. You let out a strangled noise at how he stretched the walls of your cunt and he moaned as his hands found purchase on your hips. Cillian wasted no time as he started to rock his hips back and forth, his thick cock going in and out of your wet, warm hole with ease.
He watched in awe as he looked down at his cock disappearing into your pussy, all warm, tight, and wet for him. “You’re so– fuck, baby. God, you’re so much tighter than my wife.”
“Oh my god,” you whined, his words only making you wetter as you heard your pussy making those squelching sounds. “A-am I?”
“Fuck, yeah you are,” he agreed, ramming into you faster now. You let out choked moans as you felt him pound his thick cock into your cunt, the tip of him reaching the deepest places inside of you. “Takin’ my cock like a good little girl, aren’t ya honey?”
“M–hmmm,” you mindlessly babbled, cock-drunk on his thickness. “Your good little girl…” 
“That’s right,” he purred, slamming himself as hard as he possibly could into you. “You’re my fuckin’ girl.” 
“Yeah…” You sighed, your body going slack as you tightened up around him. You hadn’t realized how close you were, and his arms came to wrap around your chest, pulling you against him as he rammed himself up into you deeper. Your head went slack too as you let it fall back against his shoulders. 
“Gonna come?” He cooed softly as he noticed how fucked out you were starting to get. “Can you be a good girl and come on my cock for me?” 
“Mmm,” you groaned as you saw stars, creaming his thick cock as you shut your eyes and continued to let him pound you senseless through your orgasm. “I’m…I–”
“And what was that earlier about me being old?” He joked as you failed to formulate a proper sentence, feeling himself about to come with you as he watched your mind go blank from his cock in your dripping, slick cunt. “Yeah, fuck — tightest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever felt.” 
Cillian felt himself pour his warm cum into your worn-out cunt, and he rested his head on your shoulder as he gave you a few more lazy thrusts from behind, still holding onto you tightly. The two of you were silent as you caught your breath in his kitchen, your body continuously being pressed up against his as he stayed buried deep inside of your hole. 
After a solid few minutes, he finally pulled out gently, making you whine. “Hang on, honey,” he said softly, placing a gentle kiss behind your ear. “Let me get a cloth.” He grabbed a towel from a kitchen drawer as his cum ran down your leg and dripped out of your cunt, before wiping it up gently. 
As he cleaned you up, he turned you around and you got lost in his hypnotizing blue eyes again. He laughed under his breath, cupping your face with his hands. “You’re so pretty,” he breathed, taking in your youth, your beauty and…you. All of you. “Just…beautiful.”
You blushed, smiling up at him dopily with a sigh as you leaned into his touch. For a moment, the silence between you was comfortable, but there was an undeniable weight to it. His eyes said something…unspoken. 
He let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’ll…I’ll figure something out,” he murmured, voice steady with emotion. “About my marriage. About us. About everything”
“Cillian,” you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness in his tone. “You don’t have to–”
He shook his head, his thumb still brushing against your cheek. “I do because we’re already too close,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “Too close to go back, too close to pretend this doesn’t matter.”
You felt your breath hitch in your throat at his words, your heart beating much faster now. He softly bumped his nose against yours as he left a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. “We’ve already crossed the line, crossed every boundary,” he whispered. 
“But your family—” You started, the weight of reality pressing in. You could easily break things off with your boyfriend, but he had much more at stake than you did.
He cut you off gently, his gaze soft but unwavering. “I know what I’m risking, but I can’t pretend this doesn’t matter. You matter to me,” he paused in thought before he pulled you in again, tangling his hands in your tussled hair. “Like you said; rules are meant to be broken. If we’ve already broken every rule, then what else do we have to lose?”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
𝑇𝐴𝐺𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇
@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a
@xanaxiii @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 
@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe
@kpopgirlbtssvt 
@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebellebarnes @wiseyouthinfluencer
@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii 
@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn
@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love @cranecat
@hfidnnf @strangeions @randomcreator-09
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wandaslittlebird · 3 months ago
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Confessing
Stepmom!Wanda x Pervy!GP!Reader
After months of spying on your stepmother, you’re finally caught and made to confess far more than you’d expected.
CW: Reader is displeased with her anatomy, non-consensual spying, underwear stealing and other nefarious acts, mentions of masturbation, stepmom/stepdaughter, intense questioning, dacryphilia (kinda), humiliation, spanking, mommy kink, accidental orgasm
Word Count: 4k
A/N: It’s finally complete! There’s going to be an alternative version of this fic with a non g!p reader soon! Wanda’s also a lot meaner in that one, so get excited if that’s your thing.
You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, still mostly naked from the long shower you’d just taken. You stood up on your tippy toes in order to highlight the main attraction: your new lacy thong underwear.
You’d stolen them from your stepmother Wanda's wardrobe earlier while she was busy making dinner. When you’d found them, you just knew you had to have them. It was the first time you’d ever stolen her panties to wear, and the act both scared and aroused you.
It was kind of her fault, really, that you had to steal her panties to wear. At least, that’s how you justified it to yourself. She always bought you the plainest and ugly boxer briefs.
“Pretty girls with penises can’t wear little panties like that,” she had told you when you asked to buy some panties. “You gotta wear some with a little more fabric to keep those princess parts all tucked into place.”
She was right, of course. Your “extra appendage” made even boyshorts unwearable. Perhaps you could make it work if you were a bit smaller. Alas, you’d been cursed to have a bigger dick than even most men had.
But you hated your boxers, regardless. Sure they kept your anatomy secure, but they never came in pink, or lace, or had any fun bows on the waistband. Even your favorite pair were just navy with blue dog silhouettes on them.
These panties, however, were so much better. They hugged your hips perfectly, creating a beautiful V shape that accentuated your shape. Sure there was still a bulge between your legs, but you thought it was made much less unsightly by the black lace it prodded. There was, of course, the issue of keeping it inside the panties. There was so little fabric it was bound to pop out at some point.
But for right now, you twisted happily on your toes, feeling sexy and pretty, just like Wanda was when she wore her pretty panties.
“Honey! Dinner’s ready!” You heard Wanda’s voice from the dining room.
You frowned, not ready to get dressed quite yet. Nonetheless, you shouted from the bathroom, “I’ll be down in a second!” before slipping on your plaid pajama pants and an old band t-shirt. It’s fine. You’d be nice and quick with dinner, then you could slip away to the privacy of your room for the rest of night. You had a better mirror in there anyway: a full body one that would solve this tip toe problem. Maybe you could even put on a bit of a fashion show for yourself, trying on all of your favorite bras and deciding which one made for the best set.
You took a deep breath, trying to mask your excitement. It was going to be a perfect night. All you had to do was make it through dinner first.
You walked nervously down the stairs into the dining room where you found Wanda dishing out pasta onto each of your plates. She offered you a gentle smile upon arrival. “Oh good, you made it. I was worried for a second there you’d make me eat alone. Just pasta tonight, nothing fancy. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh, uh, it’s no problem at all,’” you stammered. “Anything you make will surely be delicious.” You tried to offer her the same smile she’d offered you, but it came out awkward and uneven. It was clear you were nervous. You cursed yourself for your inability to hide your feelings from her.
She tilted her head in slight confusion. “Are you feeling alright? You look a little flushed.”
“I… uh… yeah I’m fine. I must’ve just taken a really hot shower,” you attempted to explain. She clearly wasn’t buying it. You shrank back in your chair a little bit, shifting uncomfortably as your dick threatened to escape its flimsy confines. The sensation only caused you to blush harder.
“Are you sure?” she asked, unconvinced. “Let me feel your head.” She leaned over the table, giving you a clear view down the front of her shirt. Fuck. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath her blouse. You inhaled shakily, shifting even more obviously as you felt yourself grow hard. You took in a sharp breath as you felt your dick pop out of the leg hole of the underwear.
She touched your head innocently with the back of her hand. Her brows furrowed in confusion as your uncomfortable wiggling became more pronounced. “Darling, you seem terribly restless. What’s going on?” She was starting to catch on, at least, to the fact you were keeping something from her. Though she couldn’t pinpoint what it was, she was certain she could get it out of you. You were never very good at keeping secrets, especially not from her.
You scooted your chair backwards, determined to escape this situation as quickly as possible. “I… uh… Actually I am feeling a bit poorly. I better go up to my room.” You made a move to try and get up, but she grabbed your wrist before you could escape.
You turned to face her and you were met with a glare that nearly made you crumble. She looked at you like she was looking into your soul, like she was some sort of omnipotent goddess that already knew every secret you’d ever tried to keep. “Honey,” she said, voice even and emotionless, “I think we need to have a talk.”
Tears welled up in your eyes as you collapsed back down into your seat. “I’m sorry, mommy,” you whispered tearfully. How could she possibly know? Did she see something by accident?
She smiled knowingly. She had you now. That poor little head of yours couldn’t come up with a lie right now no matter how hard you tried. She circled the table and squatted down next to your chair, squeezing your hand and soothingly rubbing your temple with her thumb. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s not mad. I just need you to tell me what happened, okay? It’s okay, you can tell mommy.”
You swallowed. So she didn’t know. If you played your cards right, you could still make it out of this. Subconsciously, you crossed your legs, squeezing them tightly together, trying to hide yourself from her. It was a painfully obvious move, but her soft voice and her hand on your head were making it so very hard to think clearly.
Wanda smirked and ran her hand up the side of your hip. Whatever you were hiding was somewhere in here. Surely it wasn’t just a boner that’d gotten you this worked up. She’d caught you with several in the past, but she’d never said anything. Maybe you blushed or scratched your arm, but you’d never been like this.
Her hand slid over the fabric of your baggy pajama pants. Oddly enough, she couldn’t feel the bulky fabric of your boxers under the pants. Your secret wasn’t just that you weren’t wearing underwear, was it? No. As her hand got further up your waist, she felt them. They weren’t boxers, but there was something there.
“Honey,” she said calmly. “What are you wearing under your pajamas?”
Your mouth went dry and you froze, unsure how to answer her question. You decided it was best to play dumb. “W-what do you mean? Underwear.”
“Oh come on now darling,” she said, voice soft but slightly perturbed. “You know what I’m talking about. Are you wearing your boxers right now?”
Your eyes darted around the room, avoiding her gaze at all cost. She wasn’t going to check if you lied, was she? You hesitantly nodded.
“Are you sure?” She asked, unconvinced. “Do you mind if I lift up your shirt so I can make sure?”
Your hands flew to your waist, pinning your shirt to your body. “I… uh… I don’t feel comfortable showing you my underwear.”
She pursed her lips, annoyed with your evasiveness. She had started to believe that her soft mommy act wasn’t going to cut it, if she really wanted you to confess. “Darling, I’ve seen you in your boxers countless times before. Why are you getting so bashful all the sudden?”
You curled up tighter. You knew she was on to you by this point, but the humiliation of revealing yourself was too much. “I just… I don’t wanna show you, okay?” Your bottom lip quivered, tears threatened to spill from your eyes.
Wanda stood up, pushing your chair back until it hit the wall. You gasped, looking up at her, frightened as she loomed over you menacingly. “Alright, darling. If you can’t be a good girl and tell mommy what’s going on, I’m going to have to pull you over my lap, push your pants down to your ankles, and spank you in whatever underwear you’re wearing, okay? So I’ll ask you one more time. Are. You. Wearing. Your. Boxers. Right. Now?”
Your eyes went wide. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Your entire body started to shake as you stared up at her, frozen. Her gaze was harsh now, face unmoving as she waited on an answer.
Finally the dam broke. A cry ripped from your throat and tears poured down your face. You crumbled to pieces underneath her. “No! I’m not wearing my underwear, I’m wearing yours! I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have done it. And I know I shouldn’t have lied! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You sobbed.
She shrunk back down, squatting again on the floor in front of you. She could hardly hide the pleasure she got from watching you shake and sob underneath her. She took your hand in hers, wiping away your tears. “See, baby? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
You melted into her hand. You were truly hers now. No more lying, no more games. No more thoughts in your precious little head aside from “do exactly what mommy tells you to do”. Any resistance you had had melted away.
“Can you tell mommy why you were wearing her panties, sweetheart?” She asked softly.
“I wanted to be pretty,” you cried weakly. “All I ever get to wear are gross, ugly boxers but I just wanted to be pretty like you.”
Wanda nodded in understanding. “You wanted to wear pretty panties like mommy, huh?”
You nodded. Your head was so jumbled it felt like the confessions were spilling out of you. “I see you through the door sometimes, when you’re getting dressed. You look so pretty with your matching bras and panties. And I just… I wanted to look like that too,” you confessed.
“You see me through the door?” She asked, noting how you had said ‘see’ rather than ‘watch’. “Do you spy on mommy while she’s naked? Do you watch me when I change my clothes?”
Your head lulled to the side. “No! …yes… sometimes.” You confessed, getting quieter with each statement.
She raised her eyebrows, surprised and amused by your unswerving honesty. She’d known, of course, about your little habits. You weren’t as sneaky as you thought. However, having you blubbering under her, confessing every little thing you’d ever done, brought her immense satisfaction.
She ran her hand up your upper thigh again, lightly tracing shapes with her fingers. “How long have you been spying on mommy, huh?”
You sighed, feeling yourself grow hard in your pants. Her touch was so memorizing you nearly forgot to answer the question. She pulled her hand away, grabbing your face and raising her eyebrows expectantly. You snapped out of your haze. “I don’t know! I don’t know how it started! Please! I promise I’m not a naughty girl!”
Her hand moved up to your hair, gently wiping it from her face. Her rapid switching from gentle to harsh was making your head spin. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Mommy’s not mad. You’re doing a very good job being honest with me.” She leaned forward, so close you could feel her breath against your ear. “How does it make you feel, watching me in my room like that? Watching me change my clothes and seeing my pretty lingerie?”
“G-good,” you answered hazily. “I just… I like to see, sometimes.”
She was slowly climbing up your body, almost in your lap now. “You just like to see sometimes, hmm?” She repeated. “Is that all?”
“Sometimes I-I like to… um… to-touch my… in the hallway while I watch,” you confessed, too scared and hazy to lie to her anymore.
A faint smile grew on her lips. She could hardly believe how vulnerable she’d made you. She’d never quite seen you like this before. “That’s quite naughty of you, darling. You can’t just touch yourself in the hallway like that. Someone could catch you, you know.”
“Dad almost… one time he saw… but he didn’t know what I was doing and I pretended I was waiting on you.”
She sat on your knees, rubbing soothing circles on your collarbones and shoulders. “Dad almost caught you, huh? And what were you doing, exactly?”
“Just… rubbing… on the outside. I didn’t have my h-hands in my pants or anything,” you stammered.
She leaned forward again, moving her hands down to your hips. “That was a very very naughty thing to do, little girl. I better not catch you rubbing yourself in the hallway again.”
You shook your head. “It will never happen again! I promise!”
She grabbed your face again, significantly softer now that she’d already broken you. She simply lifted your chin to look her in the eyes. “No more lying, darling. I want to know the truth. Are you going to stop spying on me?”
You nodded frantically, determined to never find yourself in this situation again. “Never! I swear!”
“Good girl,” she cooed. She gently rubbed your cheek with her thumb. “And no more stealing my underwear, agreed?”
You nodded again, driven to yet another confession you hadn’t planned on making. “No more! And no more stealing the dirty ones either. I won’t even snoop again! I promise!”
“Oh?” Wanda purred, “So you’ve been stealing my dirty panties too? Not just the clean ones?” Once again, she had been noticing her panties in your laundry instead of hers for months now. She was under no illusion that they were ending up there accidentally.
“This… this was the first time I stole any clean ones! I’ve never worn them before either!” You defended.
She hummed softly, pretending to ponder your confession. “Hmm. And what, exactly, do you do with my dirty panties?”
“I just… smell,” you confessed. “Some I use them to… t-touch myself with.”
“You use them when you touch yourself?” She asked, her voice still gentle and sweet. She ran her hands through your hair with an air of possession.
You nodded. “One time I had… I had a taste. But just one time!”
She chuckled smugly. “Oh?” She smirked down at you. “You took a taste, huh? Just once?”
You nodded. You were so terribly embarrassed. You wanted to throw yourself into her and beg her for forgiveness, but you doubted it would help.
“And how did I taste, darling?” She asked.
You moaned a little at the memory, hips bucking up as you felt yourself grow harder. “Really g-good. I’d never… finished that much before.”
“Aww,” she chuckled again. “Did you cum really hard when you tasted mommy?”
You nodded. Her hands traced light patterns on your hips, making their way to your stomach. “Just from a little taste?” She asked again, egging you on for more details.
“I didn’t even have to… touch myself. It just… happened all on its own,” you said. The tip of your cock was pressing hard against the fabric of your pajama pants now. The outline was painfully clear now that your underwear was no longer covering it. Wanda looked down at your lap and smirked smugly.
“It looks like maybe you enjoyed it, huh? Cumming from mommy’s taste alone?” She lightly traced the waistband of your pants, getting close but not quite touching the bulge in the fabric.
You whimpered and bucked your hips up, trying to get her hand closer to where you needed it. “Y-yeah. I didn’t know it could… happen like that. I thought you had to… touch it.”
Wanda hummed, pondering your words. “Most little princesses do. But you're a very special little princess, aren’t you?”
You nodded, still sniffling. The whole ordeal had you beyond embarrassed, yet you noticed that your arousal persisted through the embarrassment. Perhaps it was even worsened by it.
“Can-can I go to my room?” You stuttered suddenly. You had to get out of here, to somewhere more private before your humiliation and arousal bubbled over.
“Aww, sweetheart,” she cooed with fake sympathy. “Did you really think after all of this I would just let you go to your room?”
Your eyes went wide with terror. You weren’t sure how much more of this you could take before disaster struck. “B-but you said you weren’t mad!”
“I’m not mad, honey,” she reassured. “But what you did was very very naughty, wasn’t it?”
You nodded, another wave of tears threatening to fall.
“And when little girls do naughty things they have to be punished, don’t they?” She said, affectionately combing through your hair.
You nodded again, whimpering under her gentle touch. “But you’ll go easy on me, right? Because I was a good girl and I was honest and I told you everything?”
She chuckled. Your description wasn’t exactly accurate, but she couldn’t help but take at least a little pity on you. You had confessed in the end, even if it took a little pushing. “Of course, baby,” she soothed. “Now go upstairs and wait for mommy. I want you over the end of the bed in nothing but mommy’s panties, okay?”
You nodded frantically, running up the stairs and assuming the position as soon as she got off your lap.
She chuckled, amused by your eager obedience, and boxed up the pasta she’d made so she could easily heat it back up after this was over.
It only took her about five minutes for her to finally come upstairs, but to you, bent naked over the edge of the bed, it felt like hours.
You had to fight to keep your head down on the mattress when you heard her open the bedroom door. You whined as you watched her pull the wooden hairbrush from her nightstand. “No mommy! Please not the hairbrush! Please I was so honest and-and I answered all of your questions-“
She cut you off by rubbing gentle circles on the swell of your ass. “Shshsh,” she soothed. “Mommy’s only doing this because she loves you, okay? I have to remind my sweet girl what happens when she’s naughty so she’ll remember to be a good girl, right?”
You whimpered and squirmed under her, trying to be patient and still but also desperate to get away from the hairbrush. The thin fabric of the underwear offered you little to no protection, and your now hard dick was no longer restrained by the fabric.
“I want you to count for me, okay?” She instructed. “If you can keep count like a good girl, we’ll only do 15, but if I have to count for you, I’m gonna have to do 25, okay?”
You nodded, determined to be good and keep count. However, you weren’t traditionally known for keeping a clear head during your punishment. “Can-can I hold onto a pillow, please?”
She couldn’t see your face, but the tears in your voice made it hard for her to deny you anything. “Of course, baby,” she said, pulling a pillow from the headboard and tucking it into your arms. She kissed the side of your teary face. “Mommy loves you very much, princess. It’ll be over soon.”
She tapped your ass twice with the hairbrush before placing the first smack firmly on your left cheek. You cried out, wailing more with overwhelming embarrassment than pain.
“One!”
She hit you again with perfect precision in almost the exact same spot.
“T-two”
She switched sides, smacking you again on the other cheek.
“Three!”
You made it to seven before you inevitably lost count. She waited for a moment after the strike before she decided your wailing was not going to give way to a number, and she officially started counting herself.
By ten, you had resorted to begging. You knew better than to flail and kick your legs, she’d have you pinned over her lap with a far worse punishment in store, but you were allowed to cry and plead all you wanted. “Please mommy! Please, I'll be good. I learned my lesson mommy please no more!”
You sounded so pathetic she was almost tempted to have mercy on you. You weren’t even halfway through your punishment now that she’d pushed it to 25. But she would stick to her word. That was, after all, what was most important when it came to discipline.
It wasn’t even so much the pain, you were trying to escape, but something far more alarming that boiled in your lower belly. Having her, a commanding force over you, was awakening something in you. The humiliation of a confession matched with wearing her underwear and being spanked like a child over her bed had a coil building in your lower stomach.
By 15 spanks, you realized it was inevitable. You were pleading with her more quietly now. Your hips bucked against the bed in what she thought was an attempt to get away, but by the 20th spank the coil snapped. In a humiliating display of desperation, you came, spilling your seed on the sheets.
She stopped spanking you, taking a second to realize what just happened. “Did you just…?”
You wailed into the pillow, burying your face into it until it nearly suffocated you. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry mommy I didn’t mean to! I’ll clean it up! I promise! Please no more spankings mommy! Please, I'll be a good girl!”
She rubbed soothing circles on your lower back, genuinely trying to calm you enough to talk. As much as she wanted to stay true to her word and finish your punishment, making sure you didn’t suffocate yourself was a higher priority.
“It’s okay honey. You’re okay. Accidents happen,” she comforted. She was more amused than anything by the situation. However, she feared if she busted out in laughter, you’d keel over right then and there.
“No it’s not!” You sobbed. “I just came on your bed while I was getting punished for being naughty and dirty already!”
“It’s okay, baby. Mommy understands. You didn’t mean to make a mess of mommy’s bed, did you?” She asked in her most soothing voice, one she might use if she were talking to a small child.
You shook your head into the pillow. “I really really didn’t mean to. Please don’t punish me!”
Wanda cooed, rubbing your heaving back. “You’re not in trouble, baby. You’re never gonna be in trouble for something you did by accident. You just made a little mess, darling. No need for tears.”
She sat down next to you on the bed, dragging you onto her lap. She could almost laugh at how pathetic you looked, all snotty and sobbing, still mostly naked as she sat you up on her lap. Despite it all, she thought you looked absolutely darling.
“Are you a little embarrassed, princess?” She asked as you refused to let go of the pillow you had practically burrowed into.
You nodded, remaining completely unwilling to look at her. She grabbed a sheet off the bed and wrapped it around you, hoping being less naked would lure you out of hiding. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, baby,” she reassured. “Mommy understands. You're not in trouble, sweet girl.” She rubbed your back through the sheet, rocking you in her lap.
After a few moments of silence she kissed your head and said “I’m gonna put you on the couch while I clean up your little mess and then you can sleep in mommy’s room tonight. Does that sound good, princess? Do you wanna stay with mommy tonight?”
Finally, you discarded your pillow, allowing her to see your teary face. You nodded. “I wanna stay in mommy's room.”
She smiled, kissing you once on the forehead. “I’d love that, darling. You can keep me nice and warm all night long.”
633 notes · View notes
hotvintagepoll · 10 months ago
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Propaganda
Cary Grant (The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Bringing Up Baby, Charade)—just the peak of old-school Hollywood sexuality. The glam, the suits, the gentle wit, the acrobatics, those eyes that always looked like they knew exactly what movie they were in and were laughing at the joke...
Vincent Price (Laura, Leave Her to Heaven, House on Haunted Hill, The Masque of the Red Death)—svelte, stylish, horrifying, beautiful, wickedly funny, camp and gorgeous and evil. he was an art connoisseur who advocated passionately indigenous art, he was an actual literal gourmet cook, he was so liberal he got greylisted during the mccarthy era for being too rad, he's my favorite muppets guest of all time
This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]
Vincent Price propaganda:
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Submitted: this fancam
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Cary Grant propaganda:
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"My Golden Age of Hollywood professor, who was very outwardly gay himself, put it this way: Even though Grant's sexuality was kind of an open secret in Hollywood, the public couldn't know in any real way. But anybody could see that there was a queerness about him, so he was casted for roles where he physically embodies his masculinity in a non-explicit but queer way. Bringing Up Baby is famous for the scene where Grant wears a frilly robe (pictured below, but what people don't always realise is that he plays kind of an awkward nerd in that movie. He's a hot awkward scientist in a grand robe!!! Hot!!! In The Philadelphia Story, one of my famous movies of all time, he plays C. K. Dexter Haven, a rich, sarcastic, supposedly abusive guy. And yet, what we see is this laid back, dandy-ish figure, who absolutely does not feel threatened when a woman he supposedly loves (Katharine Hepburn) starts having feelings for, and hooks up with another guy (James Stewart). He lets a drunk Stewart into his office and helps him get his job back! Obviously that is the script and not the actor, but the whole film, and that scene in particular, shows him having this very queer attitude of openness toward Hepburn and Stewart, which is only amplified by the casting of Grant and his portrayal of the character. Anyway, this is not an essay arguing for The Philadelphia Story to be considered a queer film, all I will say is: he's super hot in it."
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The link to the above mentioned frilly robe scene from Bringing Up Baby: "I just went gay all of a sudden!"
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last minute cary grant propaganda: the last few paragraphs of that new vanity fair article about him and randolph scott that just came out 2 days ago on cary's birthday where he calls it "gravity collapse" and "love at first sight" and says their souls touched and and and i'm actually sharing this mostly because it makes me emotional but also because a vote for archibald is a vote for love. this is my message. apologies for sounding mildly insane.
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thinkingotherwise · 6 months ago
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can i request umemiya and reader that they are a couple and since he is like the guys big brother she would be like his big sister? ugh, umemiya is so handsome, gentle, sexy, i love him, i fell in love, i need more content about our number 1.
Umemiya making our expectations for partners way too high. The man seems too perfect.
Hajime Umemiya and his girlfriend being the older siblings or maybe something else to Bofurin members
I think that some Bofurin members give off the youngest sibling energy. Guess who?
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You loved Hajime, not only because he was smokin' hot and very charming, even though you loved it as well, but also because of his kindness, the playfulness he showed to everybody, and the attentiveness to, as well as, care about others. He just seemed so perfect and you always told him how lucky you felt to be with him.
As time passed and you spent more and more of it with your ideal man and Bofurin, you also got used to them and the unique relationship they shared. They even started calling you their big sister, as Hajime would usually name himself the big bro, and what other name could they call the girlfriend of their leader?
Honestly, you'd need to be the harsher of you two because your boyfriend was just too soft and playful. He'd pamper the "kids", as he did with the first years, and encourage them to use their youth however they want. You, at the same time, were the voice of reason, trying to keep the Bofurin members under control, as the chaos they could sometimes create was a little too much.
When there was trouble and Bofurin was involved, however, Hajime would become a very protective and firm "older brother". A person you can depend on and leave all your troubles to, and you, as his partner, were responsible for keeping him at bay and not letting him get hurt too much.
The family-like relationship between you, your boyfriend, and other members of the school didn't prevent you from the arguments that arose, thankfully, very rarely.
While you were having a heated conversation with Hajime, the present Bofurin students, who observed it would try to ease you up.
The best ones at that were the first years, because of their awkward, yet playful comments that just made you stop and look at them not believing the words that left their mouths.
"You two always argue like an old married couple." Suou commented loud enough so you could hear him and stop your argument.
It did work and you turned to him but he was far from done and continued with a wide grin on his face.
"Do you plan to adopt all of us in the future, I think some wouldn't mind it."
"The parents are arguing again, what shall we do?" Kiryu joined in on the fun.
You felt your heart beating faster at their teasing getting easily flustered. In the hopes of stopping that your gaze moved to Hajime, who wore a matching grin like the first years, already forgetting about the argument he had with you.
"Well, I wouldn't mind marrying her one day. I'm sure (Y/n) would make a great wife." He commented smiling lovingly at you already imagining the life he could have with you.
"You're getting married?!" Sakura asked loudly getting the attention of other Bofurin members nearby.
That included Hiiragi, who the moment those words left the first year's mouth bent in half feeling the ache in his stomach coming back. He had enough of their shenanigans and slowly walked away to sit somewhere else and calm down.
As well as, Sugishita, who turned with wide eyes to look at the leader in betrayal. How could he not tell him that he was getting married, before telling Sakura?
The whole misunderstanding made you embarrassed and when you saw how much joy it brought Hajime you smacked his arm repeatedly trying to unload the feeling on him. He just laughed loudly and embraced you keeping you close to him.
"Stop it, it's not funny. Sakura, Kiryuu, and Suou you're in so much trouble when I get you!" You called to them trying to push away from the tight embrace but it was impossible.
"Well, hopefully, one day she'll be Umemiya." Hajime said and looked at you with his big loving eyes and you just couldn't take it.
You scrunched your face before hiding it in his shoulder and slapping his biceps twice. You gave in to your fate letting him hug you and shower in love.
Tags: @misticbullet
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0cta9on · 10 months ago
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Good Idea
length: 1.6k+ words
Genre: smut
Itzy Chaeryeong x Male Reader
(Author’s Note: Typing this on my phone was a hassle, so apologies if the quality isn’t that great. Enjoy anyways :) )
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【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★
PLAYER TWO WINS
Your friend Chaeryeong throws her hands up to celebrate her victory while you slump deeper into the couch, the bitter sting of your 10th defeat in a row filling your mind.
“Get owned, los-“ Chaeryeong begins to taunt you, but stops as she notices your upset expression. She scoots closer to you, offering you an apologetic look. “Sorry, did I upset you?”
You lightly chuckle at her reaction and shake your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Chaeryeong.”
“Then what’s wrong, oppa?” She asks, looking up at you expectantly with her big, round eyes. You sigh as you recount the details of your failed date. A couple weeks ago, Chaeryeong recommended you to try a dating app after expressing to her that you wanted to meet someone new. She helped you set up your profile, and after a while of getting left on read, you finally managed to secure a date with a girl who you thought was cute and fun to talk to. Things were going great… Until your first date with her. Your lack of dating experience in the past few years turned you into an awkward, blubbering mess in front of her. It didn’t help that you decided to order the spiciest item on the menu that basically killed any chance you had of salvaging your date (and your taste buds).
Chaeryeong gently rubs your arm as you sink lower into the couch, accepting the fact that you’ll probably die alone.
“I’m sorry, oppa. Is there something I can do to cheer you up?”
“I don’t think there is.” You let out a deep sigh and stare at the ceiling, lost in thought. Maybe dying alone wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not like you haven’t gotten used to being alone by now.
“Um…” Chaeryeong anxiously bites her lip as she turns to look at you. “Do you wanna try touching my boobs?”
Your head jerks up as your eyes widen in shock. “W-what did you just say?”
“I read somewhere on the internet that guys like touching boobs.” Her wide innocent eyes stare back at you without a single thought behind them. Chaeryeong had a habit of blurting out strange things, but this is by far the most insane thing she has ever said.
“I-I mean, you’re not wrong, b-but…” You were at a complete loss of words by her proposition, but you couldn’t help scan your eyes down her body. Her white ruffled tank top accentuated her breasts while also showcasing her tiny waist and sexy abs she achieved from years of being a dancer. Paired with her skin tight jeans that emphasized her curvy ass and thighs, you almost humored the idea of running your hands all over her body.
“W-why? Just why?” you ask, confused yet slightly turned on.
“Because you’re my friend and I don’t like seeing you so upset,” she responded with a pout on her lip and puppy dog eyes. It was practically impossible to say no to her whenever she made that face. With a sigh, you end up giving in.
“O-okay okay, fine. Just… You offered this, so no telling anyone I did anything weird, alright?” Beneath your apprehension, your heart was pounding with excitement. Not getting any action for years made you go feral at the simple thought of copping a feel.
A smile grows on Chaeryeong’s face as she giggles with elation. “Okay!” She sits on your lap, her ass pushing against your crotch. “Don’t be shy, oppa,” Chaeryeong teases as she grabs your wrists, placing your hands on her ample chest covered by her top. You instinctively squeeze her breasts, eliciting a cute moan from her lips. Almost instantly, your cock begins to strain in your pants, smushed against Chaeryeong’s ass, as your primal urges begin to take over.
“Looks like someone is excit- MMM!!” Chaeryeong’s words are interrupted by your mouth kissing on the supple skin of her neck. All of your inhibitions fade from your body, every action driven solely by hunger. You couldn’t deny how sexy your friend was as she succumbed to your every move. Each squeeze of her chest, each nibble of her ear, each lick on her neck turned her body into putty, completely malleable in your hands. This became evident in how you are able to lift her top without resistance, exposing her braless tits.
Chaeryeong’s mounds were absolutely perfect in your palms, soft yet firm and perfectly round. Paired with her toned abs, you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to be able to rub your hands all over her amazing body.
“D-do you- ah! Do you feel b-better, o-oppa?” Chaeryeong asked in between moans. You couldn’t help but chuckle at her adorable innocence as if she wasn’t being completely violated by you.
“Yes, I feel a lot better. I want you to feel better too,” you whisper into her ear in a sultry tone as your hand traces down her torso, causing her body to shiver in response. Chaeryeong giggles at your touch, biting her lip as she looks at you with complete lust in her eyes. You slowly unbutton her jeans, making sure she was watching. Her beautiful chest begins to rise and fall with heavy, anticipatory breaths. The urge to completely ruin your best friend was ever present in your mind, but you wanted to take things slowly. Savor every second of this experience.
Chaeryeong, on the other hand, was growing steadily impatient. “Oppa~” she whined, pouting her lips at you.
“So needy,” you chuckle before grabbing her chin and kissing her lips. She immediately melts into the delicate kiss as your fingers play with the hem of her panties. Slowly, you inch your hand closer to her wetness, teasing her skin with each scrape of your fingernails. Chaeryeong lightly moans into your mouth, her body shivering with pleasure. You graze her clit, causing her body to jolt from the contact.
“O-oh my g-god…” she groans, giggling with delight. You grab Chaeryeong’s chin with your free hand, watching her expression change as you plunge your middle finger deep into her pussy. Her mouth gapes open as she lets out a deep guttural moan, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. With your libido at an all time high, your mouth latches onto her neck as you insert a second finger into her heat, plunging your digits in and out of her until your hand starts to cramp.
“F-f-f-f-fuckkk!!!” Chaeryeong’s squeals, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. The walls of her pussy squeezed against your fingers as she came, staining her pants and your hand with her nectar. Her body suddenly goes limp as the high from her orgasm leaves her breathless.
“You okay, Chaeryeong?” you ask, smirking at her.
“Y-yeah… I feel… amazing…” She lazily plants kisses on your cheek in gratitude. This experience was definitely unforgettable - but you weren’t done yet. At this point, it was impossible to ignore your raging hardon, especially when Chaeryeong’s ass was rubbing all over it.
Standing up, you gently lay her down on the couch. She watched you, biting her lip, as you stripped her of her jeans and her soaked panties, leaving her bottom half completely nude. Her fit body was glistening with sweat and her sweet juices.
“Please take me already, oppa. I’m all yours,” Chaeryeong said, winking at you with a naughty grin. Without hesitation, you strip your clothes off, leaving them in a messy pile on the other side of the room. Your heart pounded with anticipation and lust as you lined up your cock with your best friend’s wet hole.
Church bells ring in your head as you slowly insert the tip of your penis into her. Chaeryeong’s body was complete perfection, both inside and out. A wave of ecstasy flows through you as her walls squeeze your member. You lean forward, catching Chaeryeong’s tit in your mouth as you continue to push through. Her cute moans fill the room, music to your ears.
“Mmm!! F-fuck… so b-big, oppa…” Her words were confirmation enough for you to start thrusting your hips into her. You start nice and slow, taking out most of your cock before plunging it back inside her heat. The jiggle of her breasts as you fucked her was mesmerizing.
Suddenly, she grabbed your face, forcing you to look at her. “F-faster… p-please, oppa,” she pleads, her wide eyes practically begging you to ruin her. You smirk, planting a gentle kiss on her lips before grabbing her hips and pounding her cunt with your hard dick. The rest of the world faded around you as you went rampant with pleasure. Pressure began to build in your loins, a sign of your impending orgasm. With the last of your strength, you slammed Chaeryeong down onto your cock, forcing her to match the rhythm of your thrusts.
Sensing your orgasm, Chaeryeong wraps her legs around your waist. “C-cum inside me, oppa. I-It’s okay.” With one final thrust, you went over the edge. Chaeryeong’s sweet pussy milked your cock completely dry. You collapsed back onto the couch, drained of all your energy.
“H-holy fuck… that was incredible,” you commented as you caught your breath. Chaeryeong snuggled up against you, smiling.
“I’m glad I could make you feel better, oppa.”
You couldn’t help but pepper her cute face with kisses. “If you’re gonna do this every time I’m sad, then I should go on failed dates more often,” you joked, earning a chuckle from her.
“Orrrrr, you could just go on a successful date with me and fuck me anyways,” she suggested, giggling as she bit her lip.
“I think I like your idea better.” With one final kiss, the two of you doze off in each other’s arms.
889 notes · View notes
xomakara · 4 months ago
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Love In Turbulence
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(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)
SUMMARY | You're the maid of honor in your best friend's destination wedding, but you are single and feeling depressed about having to attend solo. Stressed and grumpy on the long flight there, you have a few too many drinks and pass out, drooling on the shoulder of your seatmate. When you arrive at the wedding, you are mortified to discover that your handsome seatmate is Yunho, the best man, and you spend the rest of the wedding weekend trying to avoid him. PAIRING | Yunho x Reader GENRE | non-idol!Yunho, wedding season yo, smut with no (maybe a little) plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up everyone!), vaginal sex, oral sex RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI LENGTH | 4,144 words TAGLIST | -- NETWORKS | AUTHOR’S NOTE | I got invited to a wedding next year and was kind of, somewhat inspired to write this lol. I think it feels a bit rushed hahaha. Enjoy!
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"Jina!" You yanked your best friend, the bride, into the bathroom and locked the door before anyone else came in.
"Are you okay?"
"No! Why didn't I know that we were sitting together?!" You asked her.
She looked at you with a confused look. "Huh?"
"Me and Yunho!" You explained.
"Of course you're sitting at the same table with Yunho. He's Yeosang's best man, just like you’re my maid of honor." She said it as if it made sense to her, but she couldn't figure out why you weren't making any sense either.
"Jina, he's the man I told you that I drooled all over on the plane." You told her the whole story, starting from when you started feeling depressed from being single during take-off, to having one too many drinks and until you woke up later on to find yourself face down on Yunho's shoulder, drooling.
"Oh my god." Jina covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my god."
She kept repeating herself over and over again while you finished your story. When you were done, Jina leaned against the sink counter and looked at you with wide eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"How was I supposed to know that he was Yeosang's best man?" You groaned. "He's the only one of Yeosang's friends that I haven't met yet."
"So? Who cares? Do you think Yunho will be mad that you drooled on him? If anything he'll probably be flattered."
You rolled your eyes. "There's no way he'll be flattered. Who would be flattered by someone drooling all over them?"
"And you're worried about what he thinks about you? Seriously Y/N, this isn't high school where everyone has the same circle of friends. People come here for weddings alone. You need to start meeting new people or you're going to end up an old maid at this rate." Jina scolded you. "Look, go talk to him."
"I can't do that!" You protested. "I've been running away from him ever since the reception started."
"Why? Because he looks good in a suit? Or maybe because he smells really nice and his voice makes you shiver every time you hear him speak?" Jina teased. "Come on Y/N, don't make this harder than it already is. Talk to him and get this awkward moment over with. I know Yunho. He won't think you're weird, so don't worry about that."
You sighed. "Fine."
After straightening yourself out and silently cursing Jina for making you wear this sexy cocktail dress, you headed towards the table where Yunho sat with the rest of the wedding party. Okay, you had to admit that he was stupidly, insanely hot in a suit. And you also knew that his smoky brown eyes would have caught the attention of most women around him. However, none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was getting past this first conversation with him and praying that it would go smoothly.
When you reached the table, you realized that the only empty seats were beside Yunho, so you went to sit down next to him without even thinking twice about it. As soon as your butt hit the chair, you noticed that Yunho slowly turned his head to face you. You gulped nervously and looked away quickly. This was not happening. Not after everything that happened on the plane. It was too soon. You had to get out of here. Now.
But then, before you could make a move, Yunho moved closer to you and leaned forward to place his left arm around the back of your chair. Your heart skipped a beat and you felt your cheeks burning bright red under his intense stare.
What did you say? What did you say?! But then, before you could figure out how to escape this situation, Yunho spoke. "If you're worried about what happened on the plane, don't worry about it."
His voice was smooth and silky like silk. It was almost hypnotic. The last thing you wanted to do was fall under his spell. "Okay," you replied and slowly turned your head to face him. "Thanks."
Yunho nodded and smiled slightly. His eyes scanned your body, lingering on certain parts of you. "You look really beautiful tonight."
You blinked a few times, dumbfounded by his compliment. You stared back at him and realized that he still hadn't let go of your chair. Oh god.
"Are you alright?" He asked you.
"I'm still mentally embarrassed about the whole plane incident." You said sheepishly.
"Don't worry about it." Yunho assured you. "Besides, you looked cute sleeping on my shoulder."
"Even with all the drool?" You frowned.
"Yes." Yunho confirmed. "You looked very pretty. Even with all the drool."
The corner of your lips twitched up and you realized that you actually liked hearing those words from him. So you decided to take the conversation further. "Well...I didn't know you were the best man until I saw you standing next to Yeosang earlier today. As soon as I saw you, I wanted to avoid you at all costs."
“Well if it makes you feel better, I didn’t know you were the maid of honor until a few hours ago.” Yunho laughed. “It all makes sense why you kept running when someone tried to introduce us to each other. What made you change your mind?"
"The bride." You mumbled.
Yunho laughed and you couldn't help but smile at his cute chuckle. Damn, he had such a gorgeous laugh. You could listen to it forever.
"I'm sure Jina told Yeosang because they look like they're staring at us nonstop." Yunho said, nudging you gently. "But hey, I'm glad you changed your mind and talked to me. I'm really glad to finally meet you."
Your stomach suddenly churned and butterflies started fluttering inside your chest. Even though you just officially met Yunho a few minutes ago, you were strangely attracted to him. How strange was that? You always thought of yourself as a hopeless romantic, but the feeling that you were currently experiencing right now was something entirely different. And it scared you more than anything.
"Do you want to dance?" Yunho asked, getiing up from his seat.
"And give the newlyweds even more ammo to tease us?" You asked him.
Yunho gave you a soft smile. "It's fine if you don't want to dance with me."
"But I DO want to dance with you." You countered. "I promise I won't make a fool of myself."
"Then come on." Yunho grabbed your hand and pulled you up from your chair. "Let's dance."
You knew he was tall. But you didn't think he was this tall. Sure, you were wearing like four inch heels, but he still towered over you like an oak tree. And when he wrapped his strong arms around your waist, your knees felt weak and shaky. The entire time you were walking, your heart raced faster than ever before. What the hell was wrong with you? How was it possible for someone to make you feel this way within seconds of meeting them?
The dance floor was filled with people of all ages. An upbeat song played in the background, filling the room with music and laughter. You smiled as you watched Jina and Yeosang dancing. They looked so happy. You noticed Seonghwa, Mingi and Jongho, three of the groomsmen, dancing in a corner while the other groomsmen and bridesmaids laughed.
He was so close to you. You could feel Yunho's warmth radiating from his body, causing goosebumps to form all over your skin. Every movement that he made was like poetry to your ears. Every breath he took sounded so perfect. You closed your eyes and listened to his voice wash over you. For a second, you forgot who you were, what you were doing, and who you were talking to. Everything just faded away except for Yunho and his amazing presence.
As the music slowed down and into a romantic melody, Yunho moved his hands closer to your body and slid his right hand around your lower back. You sucked in a sharp breath and pressed yourself against him, enjoying the sensation of his hard muscles against yours. Your heart pounded rapidly and the entire world disappeared except for the two of you. You were falling. Falling into this incredible dream.
"Is this alright?" Yunho whispered into your ear.
"More than alright." You breathed out, still clinging onto him for dear life. "Perfect."
He continued to hold you in his arms, swaying to the tune of the song. His hand stayed low on your back while his other hand held onto your wrist. He never let go of you.
After dancing with Yunho for a while, you excused yourself to use the restroom. On your way to the bathroom, you ran into Jina who was heading towards the restrooms as well. She stopped short and looked at you with a wide grin.
"So...looks like you and Yunho are hitting it off." She teased. "I don't even know why you were so freaked out about him earlier."
You let out a laugh and hugged her. "Thank you, Jina. For pushing me to go talk to him."
"Y/N, you're my best friend. Of course I'm going to push you to do things you're afraid of." Jina explained. "I want you to be just as happy as I am. So I know you two officially just met but what do you think of him? Yeosang and I were saying earlier that you two looked cute together."
"I don't know why..." You bit your bottom lip. "But I'm having all these weird feelings that I've never had with other guys before. Like...a sense of...home."
Jina smiled. "That's good, Y/N. Trust your gut. If something feels right, it probably is. And besides, who says you need to rush things? You should be able to enjoy this special time in your life."
"Yeah, but this isn't supposed to happen." You complained. "How does someone fall in love so fast?"
"They don't." Jina shrugged. "You just meet the person that you're meant to be with and things fall into place naturally."
You let out a small sigh and turned around to walk towards the restroom. "I never asked but did you feel this way about Yeosang?"
Jina laughed. "When I first laid eyes on Yeosang, I knew I was going to marry that man."
You stopped and turned around again. "Really?"
"Oh yeah." Jina grinned widely. "I knew we were meant to be together since the day I met him."
You smiled as well. "Wow. That's awesome."
"Now you understand what I mean about trusting your gut, right?" Jina said, clapping you on the back.
You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye and nodded. "Yeah, I think I get it."
Before you entered the restroom, Jina leaned in close and whispered into your ear, "You'll find him too, Y/N. Don't lose hope."
Once you finished using the restroom, you headed back to where you and Yunho were sitting. He let out a smile when he saw you coming. Your eyes lingered on his lips for a brief moment and then snapped back up to his face. "Did you get lost?" He asked you.
"No." You shook your head and sat down next to him. "I ran into Jina and we talked for a bit."
Yunho laughed. "Let me guess. She asked about us."
"Yep." You replied. "She said that we looked cute together."
"And do you think we look cute together?" He asked, cocking his head at you.
"A little too early to tell." You let out a laugh. "But I'd like to keep this momentum going. Only if you want to, though."
"Of course I want to keep this momentum going." Yunho replied and let out a laugh. "I'm a fan of momentum."
Before you knew it, you found yourself holding his hand. Not because you were drunk or high, but because you genuinely wanted to. Maybe he did awaken a dormant desire deep inside you, or maybe you just wanted to have fun with a cute boy and this was the best opportunity to do so. Whatever the reason was, you were completely okay with it. And surprisingly enough, neither of you let go of each other's hand.
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"Mmmm..." You let out a small moan of satisfaction as you snuggled close to Yunho's body.
The air conditioner hummed softly and the windows were tightly shut, blocking out any noise from outside. There wasn't a lot of light in the room; the only source of light came from the moonlight shining through the window. But that wasn't what caught your attention. It was the warmth of his body that surrounded you that caused goosebumps to appear on your skin. You reached out to touch his shoulder and his arm tightened around your waist, preventing you from moving further. He shifted slightly to turn you on your side, wrapping his arm around your body and pulling you closer.
It had been months since Jina's and Yeosang's wedding and here you were, wrapped in Yunho's embrace. You had your first official date a few days after the wedding and it ended in the most intense kiss you had ever experienced in your life. From that moment onwards, your life was flipped upside down and you didn't regret one thing about it.
Your friends were ecstatic that you and Yunho made it exclusively official. Jina and Yeosang even joked that if you two were going to get married in the near future, that they would have to be part of your wedding party. You weren't even thinking of marriage yet. All you wanted was to enjoy your time with him without worrying about making a mistake. And the fact that you could call him 'my boyfriend' was simply icing on the cake.
When Yunho suggested that you stay the night, you jumped at the chance. As much as you loved spending time with him during the day, nothing beat being curled up with him in bed. Being this close to him made you forget everything else in the world.
You closed your eyes and sighed contently. In that moment, nothing mattered except for you and Yunho.
"Y/N?" A soft voice spoke into your ear. "Are you asleep?"
Your eyelids fluttered open and you turned to see Yunho staring at you with adoration. His hair fell into his eyes and his cheeks were rosy red. His smile made your heart skip a beat. God, he was such a beautiful man.
You shook your head, burrowing your face deeper into his chest. "Not anymore."
Yunho chuckled and lightly kissed your forehead. "You're too cute, babe."
"Mmm...keep calling me cute." You pouted playfully.
Yunho wrapped his arm tighter around you and pulled you closer. "Cute. My girlfriend is cute. So precious. Cute, precious, sweet, adorable, perfect, gorgeous, hot, sexy, beautiful. That pretty much covers every adjective there is when describing you."
Your cheeks blushed. "Gosh, Yunho. What will I ever do with you?"
"There's only one answer to that question." Yunho replied and started tracing random patterns on your stomach. "Take care of me."
Your heart skipped a beat as Yunho lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. You leaned forward and cupped his cheek, wanting desperately to deepen the kiss. His mouth was warm and his lips felt so soft against yours. You couldn't help but moan as his tongue slowly brushed against your lips.
Your hands gripped onto his shirt and before you knew it, you were straddling his lap, moaning loudly as he continued kissing your neck. One of his hands ran up and down your thigh while the other caressed your cheek. The intensity between you two grew as the kisses became more heated. You grabbed his face with both hands and crushed your lips against his, giving him full access to explore your mouth. Both of your tongues intertwined and you moaned into his mouth, sending chills throughout your body.
His hands traveled up your legs and you quickly lifted your body off of his, leaving him breathless. "Yunho..." You breathed heavily, running your fingers through his hair.
"What do you want, baby?" He asked with lust-filled eyes.
"I need you." You confessed. "Don't you need me?"
Yunho smiled mischievously. "Every damn minute of the day."
You slid your hand underneath his t-shirt, running your fingers over his stomach. He groaned as your fingers pressed firmly against his skin. He moved his hands to cup your face and pull you in for another kiss. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you tighter to him. Yunho sat up, tugging his shirt off before grabbing the hem of the t-shirt you borrowed from him and pulled it over your head. He threw it on the floor and admired your naked chest. You licked your lips, breathing heavily as he ran his hands up and down your sides, resting them on your breasts. He pulled your nipples into his fingertips and pinched gently, causing a low moan to escape your throat. He chuckled and planted a firm kiss on your lips.
You rolled over onto your back and pulled him on top of you, wrapping your arms around his neck. He ran his hands over your exposed skin and slowly slid your shorts and panties down your legs. Once you were completely naked, he took off his remaining clothes and lay down next to you, continuing to run his hands over your skin. He traced his fingers across your collarbone, dipping lower until he reached your breasts. You arched your back and grabbed hold of his hair, letting out a loud moan as he circled your nipples with his thumb and forefinger. His fingers pinched your nipple lightly, causing you to arch your back even more.
He licked his lips as he stared hungrily at your naked form. "God, you're so fucking sexy." He muttered under his breath.
Your breathing increased as he explored every inch of your body with his hands. You ran your fingers through his hair and watched as his dark eyes searched for yours. You tilted your head to the side and sucked on your bottom lip as he trailed kisses along your jawline. You closed your eyes and let out a moan as he covered your breast with his mouth, sucking hard on your nipple. Your nails dug into his scalp as he began to trail kisses down your stomach. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at you, waiting for you to tell him whether he should continue.
"Please." You whispered.
Yunho grinned wickedly and buried his face between your legs. You tensed as he ran his tongue along your wet slit, lightly brushing your clit. "Oh god..." You moaned as he placed small kisses all along your pussy, stopping briefly to tease your sensitive nub. You squeezed your thighs together, squeezing his head as his tongue ran along your clit.
He let out a little laugh against your inner thigh. "Babe, you’re going to suffocate me.”
You laughed, reaching out to grab his hair again. “I can’t help it. It feels so good.”
Yunho licked his lips. “Then don’t fight it, baby. Just enjoy the ride.”
You whimpered as he flicked his tongue against your clit, causing you to buck your hips. His mouth wrapped around your clit and suckled gently, causing an explosion of pleasure to flow through your body. You cried out and dug your fingernails into his scalp as you bucked harder and harder against his mouth.
"Yunho!" You cried out, unable to take it anymore.
Yunho removed his mouth from your dripping sex and stared at you with hooded eyes. "Let go, Y/N." He whispered. "Just let go."
With one last thrust of his tongue, you lost control and let out a scream as waves of ecstasy flooded through your entire body. You clutched Yunho's head, crying out as your orgasm exploded inside of you. Yunho continued licking your pussy until your orgasms subsided, kissing you tenderly afterwards. You laid there with your eyes closed, taking deep breaths as your heart slowed down.
Yunho propped himself up on his elbow and placed a soft kiss on your lips. "You okay?”
You nodded and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I am now."
Yunho laid next to you and you couldn’t help but straddle him again, tugging his pants down to free his cock. With one hand wrapped around his cock, you positioned yourself above him, lowering yourself slowly onto him. The way he gripped your ass made you gasp as you lowered yourself, allowing him to enter you. You held onto his shoulders tightly as he filled you up, his hips grinding against yours. You leaned forward and ran your tongue along his neck and shoulder, loving how his muscles tightened around you.
"Can't get over how good you feel inside me." You whispered.
Yunho smiled. "Feels good to be inside you, baby."
You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, enjoying the feeling of him filling you up. He let out a deep sigh as you rocked your hips back and forth. Every movement sent delicious sensations coursing through your body.
Yunho leaned his head back and closed his eyes, groaning softly. "Fuck, I love it when you ride me like this."
"Yunho." You gasped, biting his lower lip as you rode him faster.
"I know, baby." He whispered, tightening his grip on your waist. "I love watching you ride me. Love how you look so fucking hot riding my dick."
"Oh god..." You whispered as he pinched your nipples. "Please...Yunho...don't stop."
You could feel his cock pulsating inside of you and Yunho couldn't help but flip you over unto your back, pinning you down on the mattress. You bit your lip as he ground his hips into yours, causing another surge of pleasure to rush through your body. His mouth found its way to your breast and he kissed it roughly. He took his time sucking on your nipple, making you squirm beneath him. His teeth scraped against your sensitive skin and you arched your back, gripping his hair tightly as he pleasured your breast.
"You're driving me crazy, baby." He whispered against your skin. "Tell me what you want."
You bit your lip and glanced up at him. "Yunho...please..."
"Tell me what you want, baby." He said, still teasing your nipple with his teeth.
You let out a frustrated groan and dug your nails into his shoulders. "Yunho...fuck me...harder...please..."
He growled and slammed into you hard, burying himself to the hilt. "That's it, babe. Take my cock. Take everything I give you."
Yunho grabbed hold of your hips and pounded into you with every thrust, making you cry out in pleasure. His large hands grabbed onto your waist and held you in place as he pumped you harder and harder. You wrapped your legs around his waist, clutching his body close to yours. He moved his mouth to your ear and placed soft kisses against your earlobe. "God, you feel so fucking good. Feels so damn good."
He kept pounding into you until you felt the pressure build up inside of you. "Yunho...oh god...I'm gonna come!" You cried out as you clamped down on him, milking his cock.
"Fuck! Fuck! !" He yelled, pumping his hips faster as he came inside of you. You cried out as you climaxed with him, your body trembling as you fought to keep your legs still. You clung onto him tightly as he slowly pulled out of you, gasping for air as he collapsed next to you.
Yunho looked down at you with glazed eyes. "That was...one hell of a fuck." He whispered, caressing your cheek with his hand.
You laughed weakly and shook your head. "Mmmhmm."
"Glad I could be of service, ma'am." He teased, stroking your bare hip with his thumb.
"Uh huh." You giggled, running your fingers through his hair. "Anytime."
You snuggled closer to him and he wrapped his arm around you. "How'd I ever get so lucky?" He whispered against your temple.
You cuddled closer to him and ran your hand down his chest. "We both know it wasn't luck." You whispered. "This has always been meant to be."
Yunho smiled. "Meant to be. Sounds right to me."
"You know Seonghwa invited us to his wedding..." You looked up at him. "You wanna go?"
"Depends." Yunho gave you a teasing smile. "You gonna drool on me again?"
"Maybe..." You smirked.
Yunho laughed and pulled you into a tight hug. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, babe."
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kaivenom · 1 month ago
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☆hii☆ could you write a sfw and nsfw headcanons about shanks? I loved your previous ones! ☆ (also i wanted to ask what are ur faves ones to make?)
Dating Shanks HCS
A/N: it looks like i am doing a bingo with the dating requests. Well, i really like doing the Doflamingo ones cause he is the most outstanding of them all.
Masterlist
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SFW
You have to meet him on a bar, no discussion.
Either you were drinking or working there, but you ended up making that bar your meeting point for the next couple of weeks.
He just has something that is so atractive and magnetic on his personality.
Maybe is his laugh, maybe is his serious face when he is thinking, his low voice when he is giving orders... you don't know.
And he doesn't know either, he likes your voice and how you follow his stupid jokes, maybe it's the way you look at him like he isn't a sea emperor.
Thats why he casualy asks you to join his cree, and you accepted, obviously.
Soon after you couldn't stand tension and ended Up making out half drunk on the side of a tavern at night.
The Next morning you didn't know if you should Talk about It or forget about It but he sat you down and confessed his feelings.
He is not the one to be awkward first, he straight goes to loves you and likes to show it to everyone.
If you are awkward or insecure about something, he will try to make you feel good an confortable like always saying youre beautiful, he likes your outfit, he loves you, etc.
He is the first one to say i love you but he says it in the most innapropiate time, when you both almost got catched Up by the marines.
Yo sais It back, obviously but you wanted to kill him for chosinf that moment. Later on, when you were save, he said again and again and again.
He likes to say that he isn`t jelaous and laugh but in reality he can get a little bit and that gets him in a strange mood, like when he is about to getw in battle.
His strategy in that times is being annoying: if you are talking to someone he just enters and starts to get the other person uncomfortable and making them leave, if he hears someone talking about you, etc.
He is the type of person to say 10 min more and wrap himself about you so you are trapped with him, and Its never just 10 min.
He checka you out, a lot, on any chance he has.
Poor the person who dares touch you or makes you feel bad, he is going to erase them from existence.
He wants to have a family, someday, he doesnt know yet when, but he likes to picture It with you.
Ir you have to sit, you Will sit on his lap, no other choice IS accepted. He will grab you and makes you sit on him.
NSFW
Goofy and silly
Him in sex is the same as him outdoor, cute and makes puns but at the same time really sexy and passionate.
For him sex is having a good time and like any other time, It`s a must to laugh and be relaxed.
Especially if you were nervous your first time together, he will be the most relaxing, conforting and lovable person ever.
A pleaser and a happy reciever.
He gets really horny everytime he thinks about licking your pussy but everytime you sugest to give him a blowjob he is on the verge of cumming.
The two times that sex can get really serious Is when he is jelaous/angry and sad.
When he is jelaous he just approaches you, grabs your arm and takes you to the nearest dark spot. He gets dominant, he demands you to call him captain or daddy, he just takes you and uses you as he pleases (with consent, obviously), he makes you get on doggy and believe me if you wont walk the next day. He is just so concentrated on showing you how much he loves you and how much you make him crazy that he tents to get this savage. After that he gets worried about hurting you so expect a lot of cuddles and kisses.
When he is sad is because he is insecure, about his arm, his scars, his personality, etc. Even if you think Shanks is really confident, he can also have moments like vulnerability and he does he can get needy of the most primal type of love. You start with a bath or something cause you saw him down but soon enough he starts to get handsy, slow and sensual but he doesnt go further. He is insecure so you have to take the lead, you kiss him and guide him while you ride him, he just has the most dreamy and venerator look on his eyes. In that moment he is just so graceful that you are with him and that you love him as much as he loves you.
He is one of the best at aftercare, he really likes to carry you to the bathroom and run a hot bath for both.
He groans and ocassionaly moans cause he isnt scared to let his voice go loud.
Has a breeding kink and daddy kink, he doesnt know It and first and thru the pass of time he starts to unpack It, and ended Up with the result of him always cumming inside you and making sure you know he wants to make you pregnant.
I think he is the one to just love boobs and ass but your breasts while pregnant? Fucking amazing for him.
He prefers to make love to you on the bed but when he is really needy, he can get provocative and you both end up having sex in any dark hollow you can.
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cookinguptales · 1 year ago
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So… I’ve been turning all this over in my head since last night, and I wanted to make a post about vampiric transformation as sex, and how it’s being used in wwdits as a metaphor for sexual repression, sexual freedom, virginity, and cuckolding.
Before I even get into the obvious metaphors about virginity and cuckolding, I think we need to talk about the elephant in the room. Guillermo’s sexual repression and how that’s come to find an outlet in his vampiric longing.
Guillermo is highly repressed, sexually speaking, but I don’t think he’s asexual. He’s shown interest in sex several times, but in an uncomfortable “this can’t be for me yet” kind of way. He was clearly raised Catholic and has internalized a lot of that shame re: sex, especially gay sex. He wants intimacy, but he’s also internalized the idea that wanting these things is dangerous and shameful.
But… the vampiric world seems to symbolize all the things that Guillermo wants but cannot have. He wants to be strong, powerful, attractive, and sexually liberated. As much as their openness about sex embarrasses him, there’s a certain longing there, too. He didn’t just want to be handsome as a vampire — he explicitly used the word “sexy.”
A vampiric Guillermo is a version of Guillermo that gets to have sex. Loudly, proudly, and without shame. It’s a version of him that is wanted, that wants, and who gets to have the precise kind of intimacy he's always craved.
Now, how much Guillermo has actually done sexually is still up for a lot of debate in fandom, but I think that’s kind of immaterial. For most of the show, Guillermo clearly wasn’t having the kind of intimacy that he wanted to be having, and he only started to even begin to allow himself to seriously consider all that in s4, when he got a boyfriend and came out to his family.
As being gay and wanting to be a vampire. 
Guillermo is finally starting to own both his homosexuality and his vampiric life, and that means he’s finally starting to explore sex.
Now… At the end of s4, I talked about how Guillermo going to Derek in the finale had the air of a person who’d been fantasizing about losing their virginity in a certain way all their life — but then they finally give up on those dreams and hire a sex worker instead. There’s a resignation there in Guillermo that he couldn’t get it “the old-fashioned way,” he’s disappointed and jaded when it comes to intimate relationships, and now he’s tired of waiting for love and just wants a business transaction.
I wasn’t quite expecting for them to push that metaphor even more in s5! The money aspect was almost forgotten (Did… Derek even take the money? Why is he still cleaning toilets?) but the scene with Derek biting Guillermo was clearly a metaphorical virginity scene.
Guillermo’s nervous eagerness, his growing realization that this wasn’t actually the way he wanted it to happen. Asking Derek if he’d ever done this before and figuring out if he was “ready.” Taking off his clothes (that his grandmother got for him, even, that’s a whole meta post right THERE) and trying to make the vibe “right.” His insistence that though Nandor had never done this for him, they still had a caring and intimate relationship.
But… it was also a metaphor for bad sex. Many people lose their virginity in a way they don’t find satisfying, and Guillermo definitely seems to fall in this category. It was awkward, it was bloody, it hurt, his partner didn’t listen to him, they weren’t on the same wavelength, they didn’t connect, there was no emotional bond, and most importantly, he didn’t feel changed.
Like a lot of people do, Guillermo thought losing his virginity would change him. He’d be cooler, sexier, more powerful. His station in life would change. He’d become an adult his ideal form. But he’s still just Guillermo.
As he told Laszlo, as soon as he did it, he regretted it. He immediately knew that he’d been right, that this wasn’t the way he wanted to do it. He wanted to do it with someone experienced who loved and cared about him, who listened to him, and he wanted that person to be Nandor. But he wasn’t patient, he paid an inexperienced acquaintance for a one-night-stand instead, and he was left feeling deeply unfulfilled.
Most upsettingly, he immediately discovered that, like virginity, you can’t lose it twice. He can’t just have a do-over with Nandor now. He’s given something up that he can’t give to anyone else, and he’s going to have to live with the consequences.
Because like sex for humans, transformation has social implications in the vampire world. It can only be done in very specific situations. Guillermo seems to have grown up in a human world where sex should only be happening within a heterosexual marriage, and now he’s finding that in the vampire world, transformation is only supposed to happen between a master and familiar currently in a contractual bond.
So… him going to Derek and finding “outlet” in another relationship, so to speak, is effectively vampirically cuckolding Nandor. He’s given that honor to another vampire, which Nandor seems to find both vampirically humiliating and personally hurtful. It would in fact hurt him so badly that he would probably not survive it, in Laszlo’s words.
(There’s also definitely an element of an abusive “if I can’t have you, no one can” vibe in Nandor’s threat to kill Guillermo and then himself if Guillermo got what he needed from another vampire, but since when have we ever liked them well-adjusted?)
Guillermo is realizing that, as much as he’s been thinking of this in sexual terms, so have the vampires. He thought he was the only one who thought it was a big deal. He thought he was the only one placing intimacy and partnership and loyalty into this event. But now he’s realizing that as much as it meant to him, it might have even been a bigger thing for Nandor.
For Guillermo, vampirism-as-sex represents the idealized transformational aspects of losing your virginity. He’d built up this big event in his mind that represented his intimate bond with Nandor, he’d built up this idea that the event would change him, would make him better, would make him free. But he’s finding, like many first-timers do, that sometimes it’s not transformational. It’s just awkward and disappointing and the only thing that’s changed is that you ache in the morning.
He still doesn’t have the intimacy he wanted. He still doesn’t have the ability to be loudly himself. He still hasn’t been able to fully own his sexuality and ask for what he wants. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t enjoy it. He regrets it.
He also regrets it because now he knows it will hurt Nandor and the relationship they’ve built. Because for Nandor, vampirism-as-sex represents the societal aspects of sex. The rules people follow. The societal humiliation you feel if you’re cuckolded. The personal agony you feel when you’re cheated on. The sense that your home is broken if your partner goes to find satisfaction with someone else.
Guillermo, who has had to deal with societal disapproval of his desired type of sex in the human world his whole life, was viewing vampiric transformation as a way to be free of all that. The shame and the repression and the societal penalties for being himself.
But he’s just found himself in a mess of new rules, hasn’t he? Different culture, same struggle. And while the vampiric world has always symbolized a sexual liberation that both repulses and attracts Guillermo, he clearly doesn’t have as much freedom here as he thought.
So… to sum up, Guillermo always kind of thought of transformation as losing his virginity. He associated vampirism with sex, and he thought this would be his entrance into the sexual world. He wanted to have an intimate experience with Nandor, but eventually gave up on that and decided to pay for it — and then immediately regretted it, both because he found it personally dissatisfying and because it came as a betrayal to the man he loves.
The problem is that he thought he was the only person thinking of it as sex — he didn’t realize that Nandor does, too, just in a very different way.
Nandor was also thinking of vampiric transformation as this special act, and one that belongs only to him as Guillermo’s master/partner. He was thinking of it in intimate terms, but also in societal partnership terms. He’s thinking of his household, while Guillermo was thinking of things on more individualistic terms.
If only they’d both talked about all this shit even once. :’)
But that’s not how we do things here in Staten Island!!! We just long for things ineffectively, keep secrets, and fuck everything up!
(There’s also a whole thing here about how Nandor wasn’t keeping his side of the relationship bargain and that’s why Guillermo looked elsewhere in a moment of weakness, but I guess that’s probably a separate post. This is long enough already.)
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astralnymphh · 9 months ago
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copy that, romeo
— ellie williams was supposed to be your supervisor, not your object of infatuation ~ ♡
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⋆❝ this is cordero tower, calling in.❞⋆
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CHAPTER ONE: SUMMERTIME INTERLUDE . NEXT CHAPTER > ♡. pair; firewatcher!ellie x recruit!reader
♡. summary; it's 1995, and the angel crater national park welcomes you; a retrograde lookout all to yourself, a space nerd for a supervisor, and a whole summertime job spent in hues of sepia and juniper, waiting for the first sign of smoke. ninety–three days. you don't know her face, you share no breath— but by walkie–talkie, you know her voice.
♡. a/n; READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. CLICK HERE. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. ALSO THIS.
♡. content; EVENTUAL SMUT, narrator present, silly fourth wall breaking, a dash of comedy, slowburn (somewhat), living alone, long–distance pining, reader/characters are similar ages(mid–late 20s), depression, heavy metaphor usage, complicated poetry styles, mentions of organs, mentions of weaponry, metaphorical death, grim humor, drinking alcohol, drunk!ellie, drunken flirting (vaguely and bluntly), ellie jumpscare, uh-oh sassy masc apocalypse, she's corny and cheesy too (a dork), awkwardness, humiliation, lighthearted bickering, nicknames used. [lmk if i missed anything] . SERIES PLAYLIST .
WC; 6.1k+ ✮ thank you @trackinglessons for your sexy brain and beautiful ideas + custom art ✮ masterlist ✮ series masterlist ✮ ellie ref sheet
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Summertime is the interlude between misery and Mondays.
  May was a rough patch for you. A coagulated chapter within the spring world, a shunned ponder, red jello in the gradience of passage. Tempus, time. Early months hence were just as pessimizing, doubt is an arid reservoir in you. But, as a maypole sits a svelte giant in the sweet Beltane soil, braving an invisible smile whilst little ones— little laughters, spun prances and wraps of dainty satin to an ensnare on its long body, it weeped for its delicate capture. You; flesh coarse like timber, relate to the log standing, ensnared. Sunk in that gelatinous texture, unmoving as pressures collided with the surface outward, ripples everywhere yet incapable of sprinkling through you. Something would have to delve itself to drag you out.
  Chapters; cusp of autumn to April, every single month, wound ‘round you. They each had separating colors, and spared turns to soundly fold your limbs and bulge your skin in ribbons. It snipped your circulation, shriveled the ripe breath in your skull and traded it for a pressure. A throb. Weight upon the cranium, you felt the narrowing cradle inside wilt from thought, drain from consciousness, and soften your stiff eyes locked on drywall. Hour to hour.
  But those weren't the only things taunting you with a dance— expectations danced faster. Expectators, paired minds heaping expectations; yourself and the selves blackjacking their wants expressed as worries onto you. Stressful creatures, they are. Bosses, co–workers, energy vampires disguised as lover boys prowling about your workspace, general creatures of the retail world. God, they're like ravenous wolves snarling hunger through their teeth, slobber moonlight–bright of that dire carnality for variety meats. Depression just took the first serving before they could.
  Even the domesticated places are a wilderness untamed.
  Stress drained you of life. It softened your desire to even try. Gods are dulling, blamed you, on another dull morning where the trickling sound of coffee pouring drilled irk into your ears, rather than simply a trickle. Caffeine, a roast so void–black was brewed to un–drain you. Yet, it fuckin didn't.
  Impugning was your everything, until it could no longer purify; Elaine. Emptiness. Hmm, you gave this state of vacuum–headed hollowness a name, keenly because it deserved so by its dismantling of your autonomy. You don't want it. It's not you. It's Elaine. A some–angel fallen out of grace, weary of its wander upon a washed up cove, beige toned and swept shivering–cold. Interested by the warmth your sundry organs pushed into its light silhouette. 
  And perhaps, if the bird was never freed from its heavenly cage, it would be powerless to pester you, to poke the meat inside with the pointy end of plumage.
  Elaine was an organized assault on your wellbeing, moreso against the pulpy, pinkish-gray blob sitting ugly above your throat. Believe it, or assume it. A paralysis, moving shoulders from bed sheets proved farcical, running bristles over your teeth twice a day rhymes with nonsense, and midnight ink born to swirl and curtsy to convey thoughts gone rancid, goes unused atop the white flutter between your journal hardcovers. You have a morbid case of the seasonal blues, except this time, the season is beyond its blue hues. Spring, a fuckin’ kaleidoscope embellished. Blotches of big fuck you greens so vibrant you'd long to die from your tears, and an abstract spit of smell me reds thorny as your stomach brought to a scream for something. Anything.
It was a slow, banal descent into the jello.
  January, floating atop the sweet delicacy, atop your bed.
  February, the solidity gave out beneath you, goo subtly etching around your ankles, calves, elbows, unforgivingly cold when it first hit. When in reality, the bed was heating from your lay.
  March, marrow goes heavy, your limbs at this time could not lift, your efforts waned, and satiating the rumble in you with sustenance was forgotten, as that rumble got so, so.. quiet. 
  April, the jello had stuffed your nose, your sockets, and lullabied your ligaments. You let it happen.
May.
  You let yourself sink. Let yourself decompose and go mush in the head. Like a zombie.
  The descent doesn't taste of sweet delight, but it also fails to churn your lips with a heavy saccharinity. Neutral, your hopeful side did say. Nothing, rationality slapped past your lips.
Five months, either a misery, or a Monday.
  Yes Eve, a bite out of the Apocrypha will indeed fill this human abysm in me. Forbidden knowledge is my craving. Contraband of truth, bite to bite, I envy that I could not cope with its coating of my empty gut earlier.
  Innocence is so dull. You are depressed, not a fucking saint for staying indoors, starving your rage.
  But on came a crisp bouquet of biker–boy newspapers; ‘Hiring’, and a few scans further; ‘Do you harness a great love for the evergreen?’
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  A honed section in Missoula's local print— jobs. A publisher boldens and compresses enthusiasm sporadically; writing–on–the–wall hollers speckle themselves meticulously on the newsprint that strike a sense of obligation into the susceptible and soft–of–heart chunk of the population. A pert voice read with persuasion between your ears, gritty in tone and stereotypical of a middle aged ranger, vocals fried by cigarettes but as booming as a cannon.
“Do you care for the animals inhabiting our national sanctuaries?”
  Abutting small paragraphs, the sagging belly of a black bear, tender caramel snout and snoopy–faced, fitted on its head a mustard yellow campaign hat labeled, ‘Smokey’. Its burly, blundering frame on all fours stood out over a comic–style vista of the Montana rockies, paws obscured by blocks of thickset text reading ‘Only you’.
  Huh, a realistic depiction of Smokey Bear— over a not–so–realistic background, avant–garde. 
  Tree greens sprawly that didn't shout ‘Fuck you’ on your poor, sunken eyes searing for sleep and a twilight darkness. Sagey lichens that didn't draw out the spasms above your own bones, calling your regard to bring pin–sized problems and blemishes sprawling your own flesh out of the bliss of ignorance. Brunette muds with only a fleck of sun, a slice of earth dull, humble and unprocessed enough from benevolence to leave you unconsumed, unsunken. A mere slop and pudge in the future and wake of your walk. Nothing obnoxiously grand, nothing sanctimonious. Nature is by birth— righteous, regardless.
  “Before we can be proud of our nation, our nation must be proud of us!”
  The advertisement gropes for a summertime made free. A cyclopean sinkhole in the becoming of time. Recruits–in–waiting are called to bargain normalcy and the bustling cities plump with lumbering limbs of sheen–tight pantyhose shaded under short shapes of plaid skirts for boot–cuts n’ backpacks hefty with gear that could either save you the trouble of mountaineering by path, or trouble your time with a faulty snapping of two things. Rope and neck.
Too grim?
  A months’–long moment of tension snapped at the pressure joint— Summertime the snapper.  You'd be devoting ninety–three suns, ninety–two moons, and some two–million breaths of fir laden air up in Angel Crater National Park, northwest of here. Pupils flickering the double-page setup, you continue: A pictographic, old–fashioned lookout taller than the timber spires surrounding would be your station, your core of operations, for those three young and sunny months. Boxed provisions and supplies are guaranteed to ship every other week, and testimonies encourage even the anxious, balmy buzzes of your brain to sigh in solace learning that the weald creatures there— are mostly harmless, if you aren't bred an imbecile. Alongside, an appointed supervisor, whose name was never disclosed duly except for a scratch of text gingerly clasped in quotations reading, “E.R.W” trailing the mention of said supervisor. What’s required of you was delivered plain written and patent on that shoddy newspaper, held thick in your intrigued thumbs; Keep the forest from catching wild fire.
  You fiddled the idea. Should I? Or should I wallow the summer away? Fiddled it anxiously, fiddled it needily, bumped the clumped rim of the newsprint on your cupid's bow in bending rumination, steadied it cause newspaper smells oddly good— but next to minutes racing hours upon musing, a conclusion had to knock your static looping of gloomdom in the butt.
  One phone call, and the bird would be barred again. Pesterer, Elaine the Terrible, would be cast back where eyes can't roll over the cottony clouds. Just a couple fucking prods to your number–pad, might genuinely un–drain you.
  Luckily, you aren't an idiot reared to take bullshit longer than meritted.
You took the job.
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May 30th, 1995, 7:28 PM.
  What does any clever pedestrian traipsing capricious terrain store in their pack to avoid total gangly–branch–grips–of–nature butchery?
Item one; Black nylons— scratch that, you aren't getting paid to snag at every kink and curl of the forest, tighties of gossamery fabrics are a no–go. Citywear stays citywear. Double scratch on those sweet, blackberry Mary Janes too prized and polished to muck up in shit of the earth. Immolating the rigid underside of some chunky hiking boots to the unruly woodlands is the adrenaline pinnacle of out–worlding, come on. It proves you've got a hardy backbone and the right row of teeth to chew what you've bitten off, sullying boots ‘till the color is forevermore stained. Backup boots are tradition, so that's item number two. Best get used to cargo, ankle–length overalls and miscellaneous graphic tees, cause the rockies’ fashion gurus can't get enough of ‘em!
Clothing, check.
  Swathes of ropes twined pumpkiny orange and plenty of clanging anchors to bolt them in, goddesses and gods forbid you be tight on anchors. Medical kits— duh, did you trudge all from yonder just to die out here? This country is dicey, at the cuddly claw of a bear, or not. Hair ties, scrunchies you hoarded as a teenager in the eighties, disposable camera to suit your flaky memories, and an eclectic dump of nutty and fruity cereal bars galore. Unless you're allergic. Substitute.
Accessories and essentials, check.
  Ah, and a spare pistol and switchblade in replacement of newcomer paranoia! Keep that hush–hush though. No matches or lighters, obviously.
True American, illegal weaponry, check.
  All this paraphernalia bangs and clangs heavily on the polyester holding of your backpack, straining your scruff uncomfortably as you tiptoe, scarcely tumble, and tread lightly across a log. It creaks, it groans, it wobbles slightly over the blaring white rush of a stream, suctioning your heart–to–stomach when it grinds a wee bit louder than you thought it should.
  “Shit!” you crimp your torso in and dart wary hands on the timber beam at your feet, assuming a gawky newborn–bambi–pose in hesitation, shuddering in cracked tones, “This can't be the right way..” 
  Hoping on an evaporated sun, you frazzlingly testify in repetitive thought that the map mailed by the rangers a week prior led you on this perilous and incorrect path.. for the last two days. Winding and wounding, literally— your bruises are measureless and on top of that ache your skin to want no more of this. But, you have to. A boulevard of brown, short and stout, wrung unyielding from one gray side to the greener other, a shortcut. Assumed to be a shortcut, based on the route drawn by utter confusion.
Oh yeah, and remember the advertisement stating the park was twenty-five miles out?
Nothing about that hot-press, black-cat inked newspaper accounted for the extra eight weighing your ankles down and your motivation dead low. Twenty-five only stretched out unto the ranger parking lot. The entrance, for fuck's sake.
  Shaky flit of your digits, they float gently off the carve–veined surface of the wood, unfolding your spine as you rise. “Wrong way—” you utter to your chest, oven–warm as it puffs, “—gotta be the wrong..” 
  Tentative–ism is normal here, right? Like, no way you're cautious and sweating at the brow for nothing. Right? 
  One foot— creeakkk— in front of the prudent other, two sailing lunges, three hurried hops and a matched thud soft as marshmallows plants your shoes to hallowed ground. Blades of verdant whiskers so innocent crush under, and it feels fucking— demeaning, actually. All that gulping and pausing.. for nothing.
  You tuck a shoulder–glance to the makeshift ricket of a bridge, and blankface, “Didn't feel like killing me today?”
The tree bears no reply.
  “Hmph, surprising. Seeing as someone killed you,” a sigh parts, fading into the whip and straightening of your head, “figured the pursuit of revenge doesn't stop at ghosts.” and the hoist of your boot up, carrying onward.
  Sundown paints, crescent layers repose approaching moonlight and dying sunlight sprawls psychedelic limbs above you. Balance ambling in tiny bops only made the swirling grasp of those gradient rays more trippy on your eyes and coercive of daydreams, rot–nip for the brain. You spot nutbrown brick— a fireplace in your mind, fevered heat roasting on the inside wall of your forehead too. It was Christmas before the storm, a subzero December. And it was, in fact, colder than the unreachable heaven. Dad was hunkered down in front of that innocuous amber crackle, his right leg slack to the ground and his left arched in the neck of an acoustic guitar, arms plaiting its hollow curve into his chest. 1971, when the veil through and within was thin, and love–vomit poured so easily through. A time of justified ignorance; Childhood. 
  Stood you adjacently, legs short and posolutely not stout, dimpled in the knees. Aged two years, and mushy as ambrosia, contorting your mouth jubilant as you're told for the camera, contrary to your father with his expression drooping to his strumming fingers. Sickly sweets, adult–you unpurposefully neglects to twirl lips at, your extraordinary grins now turned ordinary flat–lines. Holiday memoirs, those spoiled ripe quick after adulthood bolted itself in the slabs of your tender spine and instilled an artificial love for labor and country, displacing nostalgia from ever being seen as a flesh existence. 
“Say cheese!”
  America is sub–human, and sub–humans created America, the imperfect cycle. Families tear, eagles outcry, friends drink their death, and the days continue to unfold without a trace of acknowledgement. Days exist where you soak festivities and stave off the pointer–finger poking at so called slack you relish, and some twenty dwindling years ahead the slowly deadening oak grove road, carousals will be criminally known as layabout–makers.
Joy is a luxury now.
  A blockage prevents your foot from winching clean forward, meeting the bone–hard kiss of a boulder to sore your toes. “Fuck!” you brand your throat walls to a shout, pissed at the rock rather than your woolgather that lead you to said rock, “Fucking fuckhead rock!”
  Woolgather means daydreams, by the way. Funner to use words that don't make a split of sense. Yay for English.
 The sunset clouds dripped with a mania of fascination and had strung your brain to its hypnotic whims, like a siren had soloed a trance, drifting your mind somewhere utopian and phantasmagorical. It sounds silly, but, blanking out seems so often out of grasp from your control, you usually could never flag what caused it, when it started, and why. Nothing practical surfaces. Fuck, your head is so tangled upon memories, you haven't even noticed the progression of scenery twelve o’clock from you. 
  Ponderosa boughs band together where your eyes brush shapes and forage for a clue of what scene wants to greet you ahead. The sequestering silence of rustles indicates a clearing, possibly. Possible as it could be, you fully expected this cruel footslog to wallop your ass into a minefield, so you bet cards and course carefully beneath the crowns of pine, completely bent to the chance of another obstacle threatening your tender ankles. Leafy whispers above strum your ears brimmed with its sotto voce song, and then— colors it silently behind.
“Holy shit.”
  Presence crumbles above you, and opens before you. The lookout. Wood shafts slant in opposing directions, up and up along four brawny beams in three consecutive layers, like a blocky cone. The face closest to you overlaps the backing rest, giving the illusion of tufted wooden legs sketched under all lackadaisical. Endgame daylight spies from behind this one–roomed cyclops, gushing final spurts of citrus rays as if it truly was an orange squeezed to pulp. So, the flank and forehead of that towering, mountainscaping lookout rolling a cold shoulder to the sun, paves in a tattered tapestry of garnet smokiness instead. Shadow of sundown. From where you sow feet, a football field apart, petty details are difficult to squint into clarity, but the window panes appear tawny, too.
  An intimidation, “So much for a tiny room.” A beaute intimidation, “And no actual bathroom.” it makes you feel like a genuine insect compared.
  A sort of stairwell serpent faintly chokes the foot, the calves, the thighs, and punctures kindly a mouth leading up to the skirting balcony hedged in many gaunt teeth. Tamping gravel closer, subtleties and fine points fade as the tower's plank–lined and flat underbelly turns to you. Larger and larger, it dips darkly from miniscule masquerade.
  Bringing your decently aching foot to the first step, you press into the curb and meander your cruder aching— thanks to a random boulder— foot weirdly on the outer ridge of your boot. Making it up the stairs to fund yourself a fucking break was a palpable mockery in itself. Like, ‘Hey! Climb this long–ass stairwell for a teensy break before doing it all over again the next day!’. 
Un–fucking–believable. 
  Fifty years of history and past rangers grate in your walk, the floorboards thump with their stories, thump into your skin— verse you a wordless eulogy. Each step is a sentence, and every sentence branches into a whole tree of genealogy, lives. Lifestyles you can't understand now, but will.
  Really redundant of me to highlight the generations alive in those floorboards. The walk up there isn’t that exciting.
  After the last step, you're met eye–to–frame with a scratched door, pygmy window centered and paper–screened from within, and the stories predating your stay inspire a comical theory, “Jeez— bears make it up here?” you half–suppress a snort, palming a fist on the doorknob coldly before rotating and giving sympathetic pressure to the door.. jammed. 
  “C’mon..” knuckles pulse into the knobs plate, gradually upping the force you pushed, “.. losing light out here..” eventually adding your other hand to sweeten the push.
  Sure, a whole year has gone by since it homed somebody, and it's retro, but come on.
  Breaking splinters into the door was your last intention, so you try so–so carefully— to some extent, “Please..” now butting the tip of your boot on the rim to ease it— ease, and finally pry, a clapback of wind blowing dusty, nightfall air past your crescent cheeks following the snap of the fallow door.
  Thank goodness for your grace and balance, some days, avoiding a timely trip face–first to a floor so powdered in light dust, any kid would mistake it for a good time sweeping snow angels. 
  Not so good for the respiratory system though.
  Muggy space filtering your lungs tightly, you cough out, “Gah— fuck!” nothing higher than the level of a guttural wheeze, your chest punching into your throat. Gaping out the last flock of butterflies clumped at your collarbones, the tickle inside calms, and you find your sights taking in a dark box. A dim orb of lily silver glow rests in the middle of the pall room, raising the natural, “Where's the ligh— ah, big clunky thing—” 
  Flicking the off–white and stubby nub attached to an impractically sized lightswitch, which frankly resembles an electric box externally, an essence of Apollo ladens the room. Lemony–gold light, passably bright off the redwood ceiling, and murmuring a low buzz through one ear, and out the other, your pupils caper along the contrasting shades awakened.
  “Definitely retro, but.. no roommates.” spoke you, gingerly content with the colors piecing this camper pad together. You observe.
  Forget–me–nots bled the cotton bedsheets baby blue, leavening the mattress with a tidy emotion as it's tucked, folded at the top and draped in a complimentary quilt— benevolent blues, hues your lids soften on. The bed beelined from the doorway, a corner counter fawn–brown as the wood extends adjacent to it, covering the northeastern angle of the room. Magpied brands of canned food clutter shelves, spines spanning thick books of epic poetry to sci–fi comics create a ribcage of literature along a compact bookcase perching that countertop, and sunken in the east side of it, a steel sink. It shimmered sunflower bands of light as you moved, a rainbow–arched faucet brightened completely.
  Step by step, you draw near a circular table in the middle. Strange rods and gadgets stuck out of the borders, inlaid glass protecting a local map so sleek you could see a phantom of your face in it, and a black bar looming the width, so it rings with tangible importance. Of which you'll gauge about later. Truthfully, the journey by foot here? Dead–beating, your knees bloated, throbbed flesh hot, and almost buckled; fatigues infamous way of scolding you to sit the fuck—
“Sup Maple lake, you there?” 
  A pang hammers to your heart, and a crawlish wave of startled blood pales from your face and drops to your jaw, “Jesus!” sweat hitting you a blink after, every normal function just— flunked. That voice, more like a ruptured stereo sizzling, caught you the fuck off guard. Now you dither, dumbassery taking your eyes through a new loop of figuring out where–why–how and what the robotic intruder wants.
  But pre–realizing, your ears perk to a more coherent, and outstretched string of static, “C'mon, know you're checked in.” and post–realization tugs your eyes to a mustardy n’ black cased device; a walkie–talkie.
  Okay, way to creep recruits out. Whoever, for whatever reason— at the nick of night too, gimme’ a break. You wry, knitting raisin crinkles above your nose, trying to discern your palette of options; pick up the walkie, tap in and feign politeness in the shortest and sluggiest scraps of small talk to be done with the day, or rant off the bat— highlight how fucking late it is, and how taxing a double–goddamned–day hike made your head and patience feel. And right now, the second response route feels arguably more tempting than—
  “This is Cordero Tower, calling in. Can see ya’ standing by the Osborne, by the way.” 
  Its staticy feedback has waned completely, densening a thick husk and tilting towards a honeyed undertone. Relaxed sounding or not, what the fuck.
  You react predictably, flicking your chin west, then east only for you to meet the dead of night— thanks mountains— stalking perfectly in every single window. So, useless to check. Answering it was a yes–go, it would be sickenly awkward to thrust it under the rug now. Your knees pull forward, eyes calligraphing the power buttons tinted in cherry light, palm drawing to meet your focal point.
  The case is ribbon gentle under your fingertips’ graze, fresh and in store–new condition. Maybe the only thing hot from the pot of newfangled technology. Plastic intricacies roll under until you settle on a swollen button, denting the plush of your finger as you press, hold, and speak. A crisp crackle activates your line, tuning you in.
    Breath hesitates between your chords, “Maple.. lake.. speaking,” off–the–tongue words manifesting on–the–spot, “you can see me?”
  “Yeah.” the walkie chuckles, sugary curl pitching up and through their tone, “Look out ur’ north window, you'll see her.”
Her?
  Nooking your nose north, you only widen pupils on that same, starless coast of darkness nosing the rim of your window sills. What do they mean to—
  “Nh–no,” You literally said north, “get closer to the window, n’ look up.” What, are you a fucking sparkling, rasp–voiced eagle?
  “Fuck are you talking about,” mouthed you void of voice, stumped on what this person was getting at. Wedging your knuckles below the meshy underside of your backpacks right strap, you wrangle it down your arm as you glide rubbery sole along croaking oak, tossing that bag so cumbersome atop a lily white pillow— looking fresher than a daisy, and clamber the mattress pliantly dented to your knees to grasp a broader panorama. 
  And with that window hood washed over, a convoy of fireflies focus a tiny constellation in the murked glass. Little pinholes of light, dots in the distance. They rough–hew a blur, but the excess seconds taken to brood squints and balance the blurry blotches, an outline crops up. Another fire lookout, sprouting from rock and rise of a berg. Offspring of the distant cordillera that gives this whole park its sense of a cradled–woodland, but either way thought, a lookout hosts it home on top.
  “You can see me from all the way out there?” you wondered, truly. I mean— at minimum, a sore sprawl of miles bridges you both.
  “Mhm..” a pause loiters that fluid hum, then some really throaty syllables, “Binoculars~” you could almost envision— nah, feel the stare of those binocs, undoubtedly taking note of every contort in your body right now.
  “Oh thats, totally.. not,” you blunt your tone, shying a few inches from the glass, “.. creepy.” awkwardly. “Uh, who are you anyways— are you like, uh, another recruit?” as you engage small talk, grumpy frown pouting, the habit of kissing your wrist to your jaw as you would a piglet–tailed telephone overruns your burnt out focus, having to wince the walkie away when your eardrums nearly burst.
Ouch.
  “For one, I'm actually your supervisor. I know, I don't sound like a typical smoker–lunged, middle–aged white dude.” their tone gruffs and deepens to impersonate, finger air quotes practically radiating from the other end, “And two, my name is Ellie— Ellie Miller–Williams, if you care.”
  “Don't.” you heave out the pain stretching your head, aching each time you simply thunk.
  “Straightforward,” her timbre ups in approval, seemingly, “I like it. I like you, recruit I dunno’ the name of.” and a bubble hics her throat, quite audibly.
  “Not single.” Wrong, just uninterested. Hooking two fingers in the fabric handle of your bag and craning it to the ground, with scattered grates of plastic buckles skating the floor.
“What?”
  Oh, shit she wasn't— oops, ‘course she meant that platonically, heads so damn muggy,  “Uh, it's—my name.. sorry I’m just a bit out of the loop—” Dumbass, unscramble your brain alphabet soup, will you?
  “That’s a long ass name, what were your parents thinking? Haha.” Her duo–beat chuckle flares your humiliation, and then proceeds to pinch its swollen parts into total inflammation, “Where does it originate from?”  
  Cheesy bitch, “Can you not— I like, pfhh..” you temper yourself with a moon–cool blow to chap your lips and inflate your cheeks, ending up with a draw of an even more loosened tongue sour as it complains, “Did a whole two–day hike through the most torturous terrain just to get here, I really don't—”
Please.
  And if gripes trudged through teeth aren't persuasive enough, you recess your bone–ache bod avidly in the springy haven of your bed which chirped at your weights shifting motions, collarbones packing down on your vocal chords. You shouldn't sound up to chat whatsoever. Instead, vehemently drained, “I just wanna get some shut eye, talk me over n’ the mornin’.” your thumb lying a button away from disconnecting. 
  “Hey, hey—” Ellie ushered, her slurry breath fogging up the mic. Lips squeak softly into it, smacking before an intone, “Can't I be a little curious?”
  You synchronized in noise, sucking teeth behind heart–pursed lips, “Do you think somebody this exhausted has the appetite to entertain you?” stilling your thumb–pad on the power off key.
  “If I keep bothering you,” that alone ticked you, her blatant drive to carry on when your brain rejected its substance, “.. yeah. Maybe you'll be nicer then too.. huph!” a heartier peep hicced up on the speaker, and right then that noise jogged a discovery.
“Are you drunk?” has to be.
  Of course, she ignores the naked and sorely obvious, “Did your boyfriend break ur’ heart or something— an’ that's why you're out here?” bottle sloshing in the background of her mumble.
  Dumbstruck, you furrow a miffy expression, “W–what, boyfriend?” 
  “Said you weren’t single.” she recalls, warmly unspinning the fuddle that knit your brows, “Think I forget so easily?” drawled like a sultry retort, baking your ears.
You a hundred percent forgot though.
  Gosh, short–term memory sucks, or it's just your energy drought making you woozy. Blame it on lethargy, “No no, that was just.. tired talk. I thought you were hitting on me.” 
  “Oh? That's cute.” her choosing to say that latter statement unfolded discordantly, you seriously couldn’t gauge if that was a flirt, or another paper daisy— mock honey, a platonic notion. Even so, it sounded so damn smooth, lace to the ears. “But no, I wasn't— m'not like gay or ‘whutever.” stammered her, light snort fanning.
  A stifled chuckle hops from your chest, mixing with hers, “Uhuh, cool.” halfway uncaring and halfway amused, bafflement working your facial muscles. 
  “Yeah, um, but seriously..” her voice drifts into a ponderous rasp, the faint rustles of flimsy paper licking page to page subtler than her speech, “what's got you out here, newbie?”
“Newbie. Really?” A brow pricks.
  “I mean, you're new— new to the lookout, new to the job, in need of my phenomenal supervision and my wide range of knowledge. Yeah, a newbie.” 
  Then your brow mellows, tension held in your face dropping dead on backhanded flattery, “You are funnily agonizing.”
  “Aw.” her scratchily suave coo has your jaw set like stone, “That's so sweet.” but her short–lived song has your heartstrings soaked in ripe honeycomb, touched to the core by sweetness nebulose and an assortment of some foreign threads. Thickened heart, tighter ribs, a churn to weaken your stomach, a maverick of things unfamiliar to you.
  Momentaries, but still noticeable even if your senses were twisted backwards.
  Chewing over how you'll begin to explain, a few letters sift through your chords, until you hook on a sigh, “Ah, well, I'm out here for a fuck ton of reasons—”
“Reasons, or— huhp, problems?” Ellie blurt–hics, nosy.
“..”
  A brief gulp and exhale wheezes from her, “Sorry, it's the bourbons’— super good. Continue.” 
 You loosely split your mouth, gasping to exchange a gale for words pressing out, “A series of reasons, and problems, that I don't bother to lay on a grand platter, so you'll get a summary tossed on an appetizer plate.” you preface. Allow an elliptical gap to cut through, rousing her hum to let you know her ears are as intent–peaked as a Chihuahua’s, “Contact with my parents’ has gone cold, my last job made me want to hurl into a pack of crocodiles— and the city became too loud and too heavy–handed. Saw this job on the local paper, and got the hell out of dodge.”
An omissive summary, you meant. 
  There’s more that eats the heart. People can’t just.. drop the burden of knowledge wantonly on randos like they’re idling under fertile treetops waiting for the apples to plummet, biting into a pulpy biography. She’s just a girl, not a therapist.
  A discomforted purr lengthens into her reply, “Mmmmh, ever try a drink or two?” her intoxicated reply.
  “Oh, see,” you flap your hand and slap it to your denim clad thigh, “you are drunk.” as if she could even see your gesture.
  “No, I’m Ellie, hmhm~” comes with a giggle, and you consider her state of insobriety to be— wavering, but it’s stimulating to hear her fluctuate between groaned jokes and extra raspy comments, “Still haven’t told me your name though.”
  Some moments during this whole ‘Who are you?’ seminar made you concerned for your future here— if you’ll make it out psyche intact, but some moments found by winnowing through the illogical backtalk touched you with inbound camaraderie.
  Invisible touches that inhabit your neck with a leak of your name so— sincerely. It transforms into a fairer sound on your ears when she repeats it, affirming it. Nobody else's teeth clutches your name so welcome as she.
  “Hmm, ‘name kinda fits your voice.” odd commentary, but since composed with her already peculiar and drunken tongue, the shoe fits.
  That said, crabby confusion seems easier to articulate, “Thanks, weirdo.” but lips rebellious, they press an inevitable grin together. 
“No problem, sleepyhead.”
So many nicknames.
  Recognizing that downtick in hubbubs and breaths on the walkie, checking out for the night posed as a passionate option the burden weighing your eyelids couldn't or shouldn't veto. So you haul your torso up, kick and poke your toes over ankles to butt your boots off prior planting your heels, whisking toward the lightswitch and committing your lookout to swell with the outside's dark fresco. 
Stygian tones.
  “Speaking of sleepy heads..” you taper off speech, leaving the rest to her— touch wood— wide enough, hopefully–not–drunk–enough imagination to fathom as you slide and slip desperately beneath woolen blankets, sleepy worries, and sentences sailed to rest.
  “Aw man.” Ellie bums so, so stupidly, for comical value.
“Yeah, man.”
  “Mpht—” wetness smacks, “wanted to bore a pretty girl to death with recruit regulations and syllabi..”
How would you know?
  In reality, Ellie was reaching a transcendent caliber of wasted, drinking up your atmospherics and drunken to her gutly core. Woods hatch forlorn people; forlorn people get thirsty, “But, mhh, heads’ nearly falling off, whoof.” she expresses a soaring of vowels, but it parallels a gruff howl more. 
  Drowsy, buzzy jubilancy, plucking her flirty strums. You sugarcoat the flare in your chest hearing ‘pretty girl’, ears clicking to the swallow convincing your heart that Ellie was not flirting. As established; She’s under the influence, and not gay. Your brain repeats that, over and over, repeat, repeat, she isn’t flirting. 
  “Hey, here's a tip..” you inch the walkie a penny away from your flopped head, clefting your lip open, “Don't get drunk on the job. They didn't hire you to decoct your brain the day before chaperoning a recruit in the literal wilderness. So, stash that shit, n’ let's both get some shut eye, yeah?” and saying all that, may have just cashed in your last dose of breath and brain cells for the night.
  Ellie being Ellie— well, what you suspect is a ‘her’ thing after these few speckled minutes, dopily laughs at you. And dammit if she wasn't glamoring a dopey smirk in accord, you’ll have gleaned wrong.
  A voice, “Who’s the boss again?” her witty and cruel wisecrack, “They didn't pay you to boss the— hup, boss around.” 
  They will pay you to confront and reflect your spectrum of limits if this girl brushes their seams, that's for certain. Or, play God and lambast her, tender as milk.
  There's even a stroke of a chance, that your crooked lips poached her dopey grin instead, “Kay, well, maybe they'll reimburse me for your poor services.” 
  “My services are not poor. You'll see, tomorrow.” the volume of her melts away, going muted under liquid swills clanging on glass.
  “Please tell me that's the sound of you putting the bottle away.”
  “Mhm!” came out plugged, the bottle confining her garble, then popping clean as a cork, “Fuck— okay,” she siphons air in, pure little clink tinting the end of her sharp–edged sniffle, “Make sleeping in earlier worth it t’morrow, wanna drive you nuts with my questions.” she nasals, drawing near the mic again.
  Such a magpie, “Cause you're lonely?” and weird.
  “Shut up,” she shushes you, a satin whisper light–hearted and quick on beat, “M’not lonely anymore, right?” The type of softly spoken outcry that would balloon your cheeks with soreness if you were face–to–face with the throat that conducts it. Involuntary smiles plague you everywhere. But there is no mouth, no larynx, no throat that you view the swallow of. Just a walkie, so you settle in stoicism.
  You tug your upper–lip and pivot your eyes, drumming up something clever to combat, “In a sense. Not like we’re bunkmates, thank goodness.”
  “Fuck you,” Ellie breaks into a cuss spout so serenely, she sounded small and harmless, “just go to bed.” reduced to birch in winter shed of its brittle autumn arguments.
“Don’t gotta tell me once.”
  By the first full and emphatic giggle she cast just now that wasn’t suppressed nor achieved by humble pie, you take it that Ellie found you funnily harrowing just as her, two peas in an outstretched pod. Fault be with her, for getting wasted. Otherwise, you might have pried her skull open with questions dolled up as a pruner, clipping the forelimbs that are foliated in a messy breadth of first glance leaflets and attitudes until you piece it prettily, in a way that thralls you to never shrink your eyes back into their sockets. Drunk people are like prone beehives though, so you don't prod them.
Tomorrow, you can paint her portrait, or vice versa.
“Whatever you say, newbie.”
And with the whirry crunch of the walkie shutting off, Monday, came to a close.
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