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itneverendshere · 3 months ago

Note

how would the cameron family react to rafe dating a pogue

Ps: ward's not a monster in this, just an asshole and shitty dad, bc my boy rafe deserves a better father figure (but i also need his daddy issues to make this work) also, didn’t know if this request was for this couple but i felt like it fitted them perfectly so here we are again 🫶🏻🤗

found a girl my parents love - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Rafe selfishly wanted to keep you a secret for as long as he could.

Not because he was ashamed of you—not even close. You were his, the only person who actually got him. That part of him he never let anyone see, not his family, not his boys.

It was complicated, though, and his family didn't do "complicated" well. Especially not with a pogue. His dad would flip if he knew he was dating someone he hadn’t been personally introduced to before.

The bartender from the club, of all people. The one they’d see serving drinks to them all summer, like you didn’t exist outside those moments. That was the thing though, you did exist, more than anyone he’d ever known. You were real. That’s why he wanted to keep it just for himself. It was his one thing that no one else could touch, could ruin. Topper knew, sure, but he wasn’t going to run his mouth to Sarah after she broke his heart.

So yeah, he held on to it, kept you away from the world that would tear it down before it even had a chance to really breathe. Until Weezie stumbled into your date at the ice cream shop.

He remembered the way his heart stopped when he saw her walk in. Of all places. Of all the people. She looked at him with wide brown eyes, then at you, and then back to him like she’d just walked in on something she wasn’t supposed to see.

And honestly? She did.

“What the hell are you doing here, Weeze?” he snapped, more out of panic than anger.

"Uh? Getting ice cream?" Her face lit up, a huge grin stretching across her cheeks. “What are you doing here? And with her?” She looked at you, her excitement bubbling over before Rafe could get a word in. “Oh my God, this is so cool! You’re dating her? Like, for real?”

You smiled awkwardly, sensing the tension rolling off him. He looked like he was seconds away from shitting himself. He could’ve killed Weezie right then and there. But instead, he just sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, well… don’t tell anyone, alright?”

“Are you kidding?” Weezie practically bounced. “I won’t say a word. Scout’s honor.” She shot you a smile before turning to leave. “But like, this is so cool.”

He scowled at her, “Stop being creepy.”

You slapped his chest, scolding him “Be nice.”

“Oh, I like her!”

She kept her word. For a little while, at least.

A few weeks later, they were all sitting around the dinner table—Ward, Sarah, Rafe, and Weezie. Rose was out doing whatever the fuck she did with her friends. Everything was going fine until Weezie, mid-conversation about nothing important, let it slip.

“I saw Rafe and his girlfriend the other day,” she said, just like it was no big deal.

Girlfriend.

Rafe froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. Sarah looked like she’d just been smacked in the face.

“Girlfriend?” Sarah’s voice went up an octave. “Since when do you have a girlfriend?”

He shot Weezie a look that could shove her ten feet under, but it was too late. She slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing her mistake.

Ward raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “You got something to share with the family, son?”

Rafe cleared his throat, putting his fork down, already working up a sweat. He knew he couldn’t lie his way out of this one. And honestly?

Maybe it was time to stop hiding. He glanced at Sarah, who still looked at him like he was from outer space, then at his dad. He’d always given him shit about girls, all these big speeches about how none of them were ever worth bringing home unless he was serious.

Well, he was serious.

“Yeah,” Rafe muttered, meeting his dad’s eyes. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “Who?”

“She’s a pogue!”

Rafe closed his eyes, sighing as Weezie blurted the most important piece of information out. She really just dropped the biggest bomb in the most casual way possible. His dad’s expression didn’t change much, but Sarah? She was fully in shock, her jaw practically hitting the table.

“A Pogue?” Sarah repeated, like she couldn’t believe the words even existed in the same sentence as Rafe. “Are you serious? In this lifetime?”

He shot her a glare. “Yeah, a Pogue. What, is that some kind of crime?”

“What?” She shrieked, “You gave me so much shit when I dated John B!”

He clenched his jaw, his patience hanging by a thread. Of course she was going to bring up John B. She couldn’t let anything go. “That was different,” he snapped.

Sarah scoffed, folding her arms “Different? How exactly?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Because John B’s a dirtbag who had you sneaking around doing God knows what. This is—” he stopped himself, trying to find the right words. “This is different, okay? She’s not like him.”

“So, it’s okay when you date a Pogue? Got it.”

“To be fair,” Weezie chimed in, “John B smelled like shit.”

He couldn’t help the snort that escaped his lips, even though the last thing he wanted to do was encourage her. Sarah shot Weezie a death glare, clearly not amused.

“Language,” Ward warned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I have to tell you girls? No swearing at the table.”

The room fell silent, everyone looking at Rafe like they were waiting for him to say something. His dad didn’t even look mad—if anything, he looked weirdly intrigued.

“So,” Ward said slowly, his gaze locking onto Rafe’s. “You’re serious about her then? Serious enough for me to meet her?”

Rafe swallowed. “Yeah. I am.”

“Alright. Let’s make that happen then.”

He blinked, completely thrown off. “What?”

Ward’s response was calm, almost too calm. “If you’re serious about this girl, then it’s time I meet her.”

Rafe just stared at him, unsure if he’d heard that right. His dad wasn’t angry? Was he impressed? Or was this some kind of setup?

“You... wanna meet her?” he repeated, like he needed the words to make sense.

His dad’s expression wasn’t the usual stone wall of judgment. “I’ve always said if it’s not serious, don’t bother bringing her around. You’re saying she’s important to you, right?”

“Uh, yeah…” Rafe’s voice trailed off, still half-expecting this to somehow turn into a lecture or some Ward Cameron test. “She is.”

He nodded, like he was already planning it. “Alright then, set it up. I’ll meet her.”

He couldn’t tell if this was a win or if he’d just walked into something he wasn’t prepared for. His whole plan was to avoid this exact conversation. He looked across the table, expecting Sarah to be just as blindsided as he was, but she was still stuck on one detail.

“You’re dating a Pogue,” she muttered, shaking her head like she couldn’t get past that fact. “I just… wow.”

Rafe shot her a glare. “Get over it.”

Weezie, always the little instigator, grinned. “She was cool.”

“Okay, so… when do I get to meet her?” Sarah’s brown eyes widened with curiosity. “Is she cute? What’s she like?”

This wasn’t how he thought the night was going to go at all.

An hour later, he was lying in bed, staring at his phone, his mind still spinning from dinner. He pulled up your contact, hesitating for a second before hitting the FaceTime button. The screen flashed for a moment, and then there you were, all cozy in your own bed, unaware of what was about to hit.

“Hi baby,” you chirped, clearly happy to see him, “What’s up? You look stressed.”

Rafe rubbed his face, letting out a long breath. “Yeah, well, uh—something happened at dinner tonight.”

Your face scrunched up in confusion, tilting the phone closer to you. “What? Did Sarah say something dumb again?”

“Nah, worse,” he muttered. “Weezie... Weezie kinda let it slip. About us.”

Your eyes widened immediately. “Wait, what? She told them?!”

“Yeah,” he said, letting out a low chuckle at the memory of the whole dinner spiraling out of control. “Just dropped it casually like it was no big deal. Sarah freaked out, and my dad—" He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. “He wants to meet you.”

For a second, you didn’t say anything. You just blinked, processing his words.

“Wait... Ward Cameron wants to meet me? As in, your dad?”

“Yeah,” He mumbled, almost sheepishly. “He’s all, ‘If you’re serious, I should meet her,’ or some shit. Like it’s no big deal.”

You sat up straight, your heart racing. “Rafe, that is a big deal! What the hell do you mean he wants to meet me?!” Your voice rose, panic starting to take over. “Oh my God, I didn’t even think about having to meet your dad. I figured we’d just— I don’t know—figure it out later!”

Rafe winced, knowing this would freak you out. He tried to keep his voice calm, even though he wasn’t exactly calm himself. “Baby, it’s not like tomorrow or anything. We can plan it out.”

But you were already spiraling. “Your dad’s gonna take one look at me— What if he hates me? What if he tells you I’m not worth it, and then—” you paused, your voice breaking slightly, “What if you start to believe him?”

His stomach clenched at your words. He sat up, the phone now held closer to his face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. What are you even talking about?”

You bit your lip, your thoughts running wild. “I mean... what if he convinces you that I’m not good enough? What if you start seeing me differently? You know how your dad is—he could talk you out of this, talk you out of us.”

Rafe shook his head, almost angry that you’d even think that way. “Are you serious right now? No way in hell is that happening. I don’t give a shit what my dad thinks. You’re the one I’m with because I want to be with you.”

You sighed, your nerves still rattled. “But what if he tries to get in your head? You always talk about how much pressure he puts on you. What if he—”

He cut you off, his voice firm, assertive. “Look, I’m serious about you. I told him that tonight. It doesn’t matter what he says, because you’re the one I love. No one’s changing my mind about that. Not even Ward fucking Cameron.” His eyes softened a little. “I already met your sister. This is just the next step, yeah? It’s us. We’re solid.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

He hated this—hated that the idea of meeting his dad was making you feel like this, but he couldn’t blame you. Ward was intimidating even on his best days, and this was not going to be one of those days.

“You’re not gonna throw up,” he said, trying to calm you down, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure you or himself.

You shook your head, running a hand through your bed hair. “What if I say something dumb? What if I screw up, and he hates me, and then everything goes downhill? I’m not, like... your people. You know that.”

His jaw clenched, hating the way you thought of yourself like that. “Don’t say that,” he scolded, “You’re exactly my people. You’re my person.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No ‘buts.’” He cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Listen to me. My dad’s opinion doesn’t change anything. He’s not gonna make me see you any differently. You’re still gonna be the same girl I’m crazy about, no matter what he says or doesn’t say. Got it?”

You took a deep breath, trying to believe him. “It’s just—I don’t know, Rafe. I don’t fit into that world, and what if he sees that right away?”

He hated that you felt this way, hated that his dad had this kind of power hanging over the two of you. “You don’t need to fit into his world, okay? You fit into mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Your lips quivered, and for a second, he thought you might start crying. He could feel the panic rolling off of you through the phone, and it hit him hard—he hadn’t realized just how terrified you were of this.

“What if he really doesn’t think I’m good enough for you?” You whispered, almost like you were scared to say it out loud.

Rafe’s heart clenched, and without thinking, he shot up out of bed, pacing his room like he needed to burn off the frustration

“You’re more than good enough for me.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away for a second like you were trying to compose yourself.

“I just don’t want him to—I don’t know? To make you feel like you have to choose between me and your family.”

He stopped pacing, his grip tightening on the phone. “If it ever came to that? I’d choose you. Every fucking time.”

You blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. “Rafe—”

“I mean it,” he said, cutting you off again. “I’m not letting my dad, or anyone else, get in the way. I don’t care if he’s Ward Cameron or the president of the United States. He’s not gonna run my life, and he sure as hell isn’t gonna ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you. And nothing my dad says or thinks is gonna change that. Ever.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall over. Not because you were scared anymore, but because of him. Because of how much he cared. How much he loved you, even when you were spiraling.

He was staring at the screen, concern written all over his face, brows furrowing, "Wait, are you crying?" His voice softened, like he wasn’t sure how to handle you like this, but he knew he wanted to. He needed to.

You quickly rubbed at your eyes, laughing to try and cover up the tears, "No, no, I just— got something in my eye." Your laugh was shaky, and you knew you weren’t fooling anyone.

He didn’t say anything for a second, just watched you with that loving look of his that made you want to bawl your eyes out even harder. He saw right through you. He always did.

“You know,” he finally said, “You don’t have to worry about all that shit. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

And that’s when you almost lost it. Because wow. No one had ever said something like that to you before, not until him. Never like that, like he really meant it, like you were the most important thing in his world.

You sniffed, trying to laugh it off again, but it just came out all soft and broken. “I’m just—” you paused, not even sure how to explain how you were feeling, “I’m not used to this. Like, you... caring this much. Loving me like this.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and he leaned a little closer to the screen, “I’m not stopping.”

“I know. I love you too.”

It was real now.

Meeting the Camerons wasn’t something you could avoid anymore, but at least you knew you had Rafe, a hundred percent.

“You still freaking out?” he asked, though his tone was lighter, like he knew the answer.

“Yeah,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’ll get over it.”

“Good,” he said, his smirk returning. “Because I kinda need you around.”

“Kinda?”

He grinned, dimples framing his face, “Okay, a lot.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Rafe hadn’t said a word the entire drive, which was already freaking you out more than you wanted to admit. His knuckles were white, tight around the steering wheel. His jaw was locked, teeth grinding together and you’d caught him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye at least three times in the past minute.

Your heart was hammering, stomach in knots, and you were starting to wonder if you might actually throw up by the time you got to Tannyhill.

“Baby, seriously, if we crash into a tree ‘cause you’re having a silent meltdown over there, that’s not gonna help either of us.”

He blinked, finally loosening his grip on the wheel. “Sorry. I’m just—fuck, I don’t know.”

You tried to smile, but it felt weak. “Yeah, me too. I feel like I’m walking into some kind of corporate job interview I didn’t apply for.”

Rafe snorted. “Yeah, except the CEO’s a control freak and the company’s, I don’t know, cursed or something.”

That made you laugh, a short, nervous laugh, but still. You appreciated the attempt at humor, even if the nerves in your stomach weren’t going anywhere.

“So, uh... game plan?” you asked, half-joking, but mostly serious. “Am I supposed to shake his hand? Call him Mr. Cameron? Or is it more of a ‘hey, what’s up, Ward?’ situation?”

Rafe finally cracked a grin, shaking his head. “God, I don’t know. Don’t call him Ward; that might send him into some power trip. But definitely don’t call him Mr. Cameron either, ‘cause that’ll just make it weird.”

“Great, so I’ll just go with ‘Hi’ and hope I don’t trip over my own feet.”

“Perfect,” Rafe deadpanned, glancing over at you, “Just be yourself. He’s not as bad as you think. Mostly.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Mostly?”

Rafe’s lips pressed together. "He's not gonna throw you out or anything. And if he does, we’re leaving together. But Sarah...”

“Sarah,” you groaned, leaning your head back against the seat. You’d barely met Sarah, and from what you could tell, she wasn’t exactly thrilled about Rafe’s choice in girlfriends.

“Just don’t let her get to you,” Rafe muttered, his hand reaching for yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “She’s just mad because I used to make John B’s life a living hell.”

“Define hell.”

Rafe smirked, his fingers still interlaced with yours. "I mean, I threw him off a boat once," he said casually, like that wasn’t one of the most insane things you’d ever heard.

You blinked. “You what?”

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road, like it was no big deal. “He was running his mouth about me."

You stared at him in disbelief, “And you think I’m the one who needs to be worried?”

He laughed, finally loosening up a little, “Relax, baby. I’m not throwing you off anything.”

“So she’s not mad about me? She’s just mad about the double standard?”

“Yeah.”

That made it a little easier to breathe.

The silence settled back in for a moment as you pulled up to Tannyhill. The sight of the massive estate took your breath away. You couldn’t help but feel like you were entering a completely different world now that you were here—a world that wasn’t exactly built for you.

Rafe must’ve noticed the way your hands gripped the edge of your seat a little tighter because he let out a long breath.

“Hey, it’s just a dinner. We eat, we talk, we leave. It’s not like they’re gonna put you under a microscope.”

You gave him a side-eye. “You know, I wasn’t nervous until you said that.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Shit. Sorry.”

The car came to a stop, and you could see the flicker of lights through the windows of the house. The pressure in your chest was building, but Rafe turned toward you, his hand cupping your face.

“Listen,” his blue eyes locked on yours, “I don’t care what happens in there. You’ve got me. If anyone makes you feel like you don’t belong, we’re out. Promise.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you leaned into his touch. “Okay.”

“I’m serious,” he continued, stroking his thumb across your cheek. “One word and I’ll get you out.”

You kissed his palm, “I know.”

“Okay.” he muttered, then pulled away, giving one final deep breath before turning off the ignition. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both stepped out of the car, Rafe knocked once, and within seconds, it swung open to reveal Sarah standing there in all her kook-with-pogue -tendencies glory.

“Well, well,” she smirked, eyes narrowing at you two.

Rafe shot her a sharp look, “Knock it off.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping aside to let you in. “I’m kidding. Kinda.” She turned her attention to you, and you could feel her sizing you up, looking completely unfazed as she led the two of you further into the house. "Dad’s in the study. He’s waiting."

Your heart skipped a beat at that. Waiting? What did that even mean?

Rafe must have felt your nerves spike because he reached for your hand again, squeezing it as you followed Sarah down the long hallway.

The house felt even bigger on the inside, with its high ceilings and fancy decor. You felt out of place. But then you peeked over at Rafe, and something about the way he held your hand made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you did belong.

At least to him.

Sarah finally stopped outside a large wooden door, turning to you with an exaggerated sigh.

"Good luck.”

Rafe hesitated for a second, his hand still gripping yours tightly. "You ready?"

No. Absolutely not. But you nodded anyway. "Yeah. Let’s do this."

He pushed open the door, and there he was.

Ward Cameron, sitting behind a massive oak desk, looking as powerful and intimidating as ever. His eyes flicked up from whatever paperwork he was working on, settling on you with a sharp intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Rafe," Ward said, his voice smooth and controlled, before turning his gaze to you. "And you must be... her."

You swallowed hard, trying to muster up the courage to say something, anything. "Yeah, that’s me. Hi, Mr. Cameron."

You immediately regretted it. Mr. Cameron? It sounded too formal, too awkward.

Ward didn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, he looked amused. He stood up, coming around the desk to get a better look at you. His eyes scanned over you briefly, but it wasn’t the cold, judgmental look you’d expected. Instead, it felt more like... curiosity.

"So, you’re the girl my son’s been so serious about."

You nodded, wanting to be anywhere but stuck in that claustrophobic room despite its size, "That’s me.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looked between you and Rafe, “I hear you’re working at the Country Club.”

It wasn’t really a question—more like he already knew everything about you. Oh. You didn’t like that, knowing that someone else was snooping around for dirt on you. At least it sounded like that was the plan.

You managed a nod, trying to keep your voice from sounding too hushed. “Yeah, I’ve been working there for a while.”

His expression didn’t really give anything away, but the way he looked at you, was unnerving. Rafe’s hand squeezed yours, reminding you that, no matter what, he had your back. One word and you were out.

“Good,” Ward finally said, “I like that you work.” He sneaked a stern look at your boyfriend before turning his attention back to you. “He could use some of that drive.”

Wait. What?

You hadn’t expected that. You thought maybe he’d grill you or give you the whole ‘what are your intentions with my son’routine. But no, he was... complimenting you? It had to be some kind of set up.

“Dad—” Rafe started, clearly not expecting that either, but Ward cut him off with a raised hand.

“No, seriously.” His eyes were back on you, and there was almost a smile there, like he was actually impressed. “It’s a good quality. I respect people who work hard, people who don’t just expect things to be handed to them. And from what I’ve heard, you’re one of those people.”

You didn’t even know what to say.

Ward Cameron? Complimenting you? Was this real life? You’d walked in here prepared for a full-on interrogation, and instead, he was... encouraging.

“I just hope some of that rubs off on my son,” Ward added, shooting Rafe a look, and you swore there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “He could stand to work a little harder. He’s always been a bit lazy.”

You bit back a laugh, glancing over at Rafe. He was glaring at his dad, but you could tell he wasn’t really pissed, just...embarrassed. You found it endearing.

“Thanks, Dad,” Rafe mumbled.

“I like it. Maybe you’ll inspire him to work a little harder.”

You blinked. Wait, was this actually happening? Did Ward Cameron, of all people, just say he liked you? This whole night felt like it was gonna be a disaster, and now... maybe it wasn’t gonna be so bad. You hoped so.

You really wanted his family to like you, you felt like you owned him at least trying.

“You know," Ward began, "I wasn't always the man you see standing here today." His voice took on a reflective tone, and you could sense the change in the atmosphere as he prepared to tell his story. "I grew up on the Cut, just like a lot of those kids you see around he, like you,” Ward said, almost casually, but you could tell it wasn’t a casual thing for him. "Back then, I didn’t have much. But I worked my ass off to get out of that place. I didn’t have a name, no wealth behind me. What I have now? I built that from the ground up. No one handed me anything."

Rafe, who had been quiet up until now, let out a small, barely audible sigh, shifting uncomfortably beside you. You took a quick glance at him and caught the unmistakable eye-roll he tried to hide.

Clearly, this wasn’t the first time Ward had given this speech. But at the same time, you could tell he was relieved that his dad wasn’t tearing into you. That had to count for something, right?

Ward, oblivious or perhaps just unfazed by his son’s reaction, continued, his voice gaining momentum like he was giving you some kind of motivational speech. "It wasn’t easy. There were plenty of times when I could’ve given up, but I didn’t. I pushed through, made connections, took risks. That’s how you get ahead. You have to be willing to do whatever it takes. Now look where I am—" He gestured around at the lavish room, the estate itself practically a testament to his success. "I built an empire. Something real. Something that can last."

You nodded politely, unsure if you were supposed to say something. Rafe’s obvious eye-rolling and silent huffs of frustration beside you made it clear that he’d heard all this a hundred times before. He shifted in his seat, crossing his arms, clearly waiting for his dad to wrap it up.

But Ward wasn’t done yet. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The point is," he said, his tone softening a little, "I respect people who are willing to work for what they want. I see that in you. It’s not about where you start—it’s about where you’re going."

Rafe let out a short, quiet breath that you might’ve missed if you weren’t sitting right next to him. He shot you a small, knowing smile, almost like he was apologizing for the speech but also relieved that Ward wasn’t being an asshole.

You squeezed his hand under the table. At least his dad wasn’t tearing you down.

"Thanks, Mr. Cameron," you said, finally finding your voice. "I really appreciate that."

He nodded, seeming satisfied with himself. "Just remember," he added, his voice lowering as if he was giving you some kind of life lesson, "Hard work pays off. You keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll get somewhere. Don’t ever settle, not even for him.”

“Thanks again.”

Rafe looked like he was about to explode from how much he was holding back, but he just gave you a quick wink as if to say, Yeah, this is typical dad, but hey—he likes you, so we’re good.

Ward clapped his hands together, the moment of sincerity quickly passing. "Alright, well, I think dinner’s ready. Shall we?"

He strode ahead, leading the way out of the study and toward the dining room, leaving you and Rafe a few steps behind. The moment he was out of earshot, you looked up at Rave, “You think we’re good?”

He smirked, leaning down slightly to meet your eyes, his tone all teasing. “Baby, I think he might build you a pedestal.”

You couldn’t help but snort, trying to keep your voice down as you followed Ward. “Really? After that ‘self-made empire’ speech?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, giving you a knowing look. “Trust me, if you got through that and he didn’t start questioning your entire existence, you’re golden. The man sees himself in anyone who works hard enough to breathe without permission.”

You bit back a laugh, gripping his hand as you walked down the long hallway. “Yeah, I was getting that vibe.”

His grin grew wider, his thumb skimming over your knuckles. “And look, usually, it’s a full-blown interrogation by now. You’re good.”

You raised your eyebrows, slightly surprised. “Really?”

Rafe nodded. “Oh yeah. Sarah’s brought home guys before and it was... rough.” He shook his head, “He actually likes you. That’s rare.”

Maybe things with the Camerons were actually going to be okay.

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lenaellsi · 1 year ago

Text

“Crowley is still an angel deep down” “Crowley is more of an angel than any of the archangels” “Crowley was only cast out because he needed to play his part in Armageddon, he's not a real demon” “Aziraphale wants to rebuild Heaven to be more like Crowley because he’s what an angel should be” no. Stop it. This is exactly where Aziraphale went wrong.

Crowley is 100% a demon. He's not actually a bit of an angel, and he's not cosmically better than any of the other demons we see in the series. He's much less vicious than most of them, yeah, but he's also much less vicious than most of the angels, because how “nice” a celestial being is has nothing to do with which side they're technically on. Crowley's kindness comes from him doing his best to help people despite the hurt he's suffered himself, not any sort of inherent residual or earned holiness. He was cast out just like the rest of the demons, and that's an important part of his history that shouldn't be minimized, excused, or, critically, 'corrected.'

Being angelic is not a positive or negative trait in the Good Omens universe. It's a species descriptor. Saying that Crowley is still an angel deep down because he helps people is an in-character thing for Aziraphale to think, certainly--Job and the final fifteen showed that in the worst possible way--but it's not something Crowley would ever react well to, and it's the main source of conflict in the entire "appoint you to be an angel" fiasco.

We know that Aziraphale thinks Crowley's fall was an injustice, but why? Well, because Crowley is actually Good, which means his fall was a mistake, or a test, or a regrettable error in judgment, or…something. Ineffable. Etc. The point is, he’s special, much better than those other demons, and if they can fix him and make him an angel again, everything will be fine! (So once Job's trials are over, everything will be restored to him? Praise be!) Aziraphale has to believe that Crowley's better traits come from traces of the angel he used to know and not the demon he's known for 6,000 years, because that’s how he can rationalize his incorrect view of Heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good with his complicated feelings about Crowley's fall.

But Crowley's fall was not an injustice because he's actually a Good Person who didn't deserve it. Crowley's fall was an injustice because the entire system of dividing people into Good (obedient) and Bad (rebellious) is bullshit. Crowley is not an unfortunate exception to God's benevolence, he is a particularly sympathetic example of God's cruelty.

And really, Crowley doesn't behave at all like an angel, especially when he's at his best. All of the things that he's done that we as the audience consider Good are things that Heaven has directly opposed. (See: saving the goats and children in defiance of God in S2E2, convincing Aziraphale to give money to Elspeth despite Heaven's views on the "virtues of poverty" in S2E3, speaking out against the flood and the crucifixion in S1E3, tempting Aziraphale to enjoy earthly pleasures because he thinks they'll make him happy, stopping Armageddon.)

Heaven as an institution has never been about helping humanity. And that's not an issue of leadership, as Aziraphale seems to think--it's by design. Aziraphale's first official act as an angel toward humanity was to literally throw them to the lions. Giving them the sword wasn't him acting like an angel, it was just him being himself. Heaven doesn't care about humans. It's not supposed to. It's supposed to win the war against Hell, with humans as chess pieces at best and collateral damage at worst.

Yes, it's easier to think that there are forces that are supposed to be fundamentally good. It's easier to think that Aziraphale is going to show those mean archangels and the Metatron what’s coming to them and reform Heaven into what it "should" be, and that God is actually super chill and watching all of this while shipping ineffable husbands and cheering for them the whole way. And of course it's easier to take Crowley, who Aziraphale (and the audience) adores, and say that he deserves to be on the Good team much more than all those angels and demons that we don’t like. But that's not how it works. People are more complicated than that, even celestial beings.

Crowley is a demon, and the tragedy of his character is not that he's secretly a good guy who is being forced to be evil; the tragedy is that he's lived his whole life stuck between two institutional forces that are both equally hostile to the love he feels for the universe and the beings in it. There are no good and bad guys. There are no "right people." Every angel, demon, and human is capable of hurting or helping others based on their choices. That is, in fact, the entire fucking point.

#good omens meta #good omens #good omens season 2 #crowley #long post #i feel like this is obvious. and yet #when crowley is kind he is NOT acting angelic. the same is true of aziraphale.#(to a point. i do think aziraphale performs 'niceness' sometimes because he feels like it's something he Should do as an angel)#(but that's because aziraphale has so many issues i cannot detail them in the tags of this crowley post)#this is my second long meta post in like 3 days. sorry. it’s my first free weekend in a while

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faewoozi · 2 months ago

Text

i win. ft hoshi x fem!reader ( 18 + MDNI )

summary: if kwon soonyoung has one hater in this universe it’s definitely you. despite having the same friend group you’re usually icy to him as you can't seem to get along to save your life. or at least that's how it appears. soonyoung though through his own curiosity discovers a truth you've tried to bury deep inside…maybe something else needs to be buried deep inside you, and it will if he gets his way.

♡ pairing: hoshi x fem!reader

♡ genre: smut w a lil plot ( growth! )

♡ word count: 9.5k

♡ this work feats: hoshi being annoying lmao, reader also being annoying. fingering, protected piv sex ( proud of myself for that one), oral ( receiving ), lots of descriptions of lady parts, there is a LOT of swearing in this one. some mild jihoon flirting too. let me know if I missed anything.

a/n: feel free to judge me for that summary because I deserve it lmao. as an aries i got that dawg in me so i'm probably just as competitive as hoshi. which is probably why reader is a lil petty. i could not imagine the chaos unleashed upon the world if hoshi could read minds in reality. anyway i'm having a ton of fun writing in this weird little universe. I think I was going to write Jun next butttttt there's a part two to this one specifically. Yes it is woozi x reader x hoshi why do you ask? I haven't revealed what Woozi's ability is yet either so it's gonna be fun! also time travel, campus radio dj!vernon is coming too because i've started working on that one as well.

“Is Soonyoung coming?” You found yourself asking despite already knowing the answer. Seokmin had finally come out of being stuck in his girlfriend’s armpit and actually wanted to see his friends for once. He had recently scored his first big paying theater gig and wanted everybody to come out and celebrate tomorrow. That meant you of course…but also…Kwon Soonyoung.

“Y/n he’s one of my best friends. I can’t not invite him. He even taught me to dance, I doubt I’d be scoring these kind of roles if he hadn’t helped me.” Seokmin replied in exasperation, but he was pouting. This wasn’t the kind of thing you could turn down without hearing about it every single day or your life with Seokmin.

“Fine. I’ll come with Jun, stay for an hour but the moment he starts up with me I’m gone.” You said in irritation, already regretting the idea that you'd be in a room with him.

“You know that old saying right? He’s only messing with you because he likes you. Or maybe because you started it. I don’t know, it’s kinda hard with Soon he doesn’t know what the high road is. If someone’s mean to him he takes that as a personal challenge to either get them to like him or to hate him more.” Seokmin responded and you frowned.

You knew all too well how irritating you could be but you didn’t start it. Soonyoung started it the moment he called you dour and boring — unprovoked no less! You'd been minding your business and no you were never interested in involving yourself with the weirdness Soonyoung got up to. That didn’t make you boring, it made you sane. So it was fuck him until the end of time. Or that’s what you were trying to project anyway.

“He started it. I’m just finishing things.” You snapped and Seokmin feigned hurt. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I said I’d come okay. That’s all you’re getting out of me. I do not have to be happy about it at all.”

“That’s…not nice. But I won’t complain. It’ll be fun. Lots of drinks, he won’t even know you’re there.” Seokmin said patting your shoulder gently.

You scoffed at Seokmin. “That’s what you said last time when we did that birthday dinner for Hannie and within five minutes we were arguing and I was about to hit him over the head with a fire extinguisher and go to jail.”

Seokmin couldn’t fight back a grin. “Oh yeah you did almost kill him that night. I forgot that’s why we stopped inviting you both to things. But you know what? After that night he told me he doesn’t really think you hate him. He was really freaked out at first. He said he’s always able to win everyone over. But not you, but then I don’t know…the next morning he was all happy. He said you didn’t actually hate him. You were just keeping up appearances, being tsundere or whatever.”

You sighed. “That’s because he lives in la la fucking land and doesn’t understand boundaries and reality. This is why I really don’t want to go.”

“Wow, so you mean it? You’re going to miss out on such an important event in my life because of one guy? Kwon Soonyoung of all people? He can dictate your whole life like that?”

You let out a groan. “Hey don’t use your shitty psych electives on me. I’ll go. But like I said one hour and then I’m gone.”

It took around forty five minutes for Soonyoung to figure out you were at Seokmin’s party. Longer than you anticipated but still right at the hour mark nonetheless. Which meant it was time to go, except you literally had no idea where your ride was. One moment you and Jun were dancing, giggling with one another and then the next he was gone and somehow Soonyoung was there. He had a wicked grin on his stupidly cute face and the grin was only growing wider.

The intensity of the urge to hit him and then kiss him was stronger than anticipated no doubt due to the fact that you were two red solo cups in with whatever jungle juice Mingyu threw together. That is what also made Soonyoung infuriating. Not only did he annoy you to no end but he had the nerve to be so enticingly attractive and sometimes hilarious while he did it, which made it hard to be his number one hater a title you took even more serious than your grades at this point.

“You come to parties now?” He asked, hiding his grin against the rim of the cup in his hand.

“Why are you talking to me?” You responded in irritation and he lowered his cup slouching against the wall to face you fully.

“You’re always so bitchy with me. It’d be annoying if I didn’t know you think I’m cute.”

Heat flooded your face for just a moment. How the hell did he know that? You never told anyone...well maybe Jun, glancing at him though he had the same shit eating grin he wore when he felt he was right or winning at something. And a good portion of the time he was wrong. He was saying this to get you riled up no doubt, just throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks so he could use it against you at some point in some awful embarrassing way.

You let out a bitter laugh. “Funny, I thought you’d gotten past your delusional phase.”

Soonyoung leaned in closer his breath ghosting against your ear. “I’m practically shit faced but I know for a fact you want to ride my dick.”

This caused actual laughter to burst out of you. He was definitely drunk, and definitely trying to get under your skin. He usually went the obnoxious route, seducing you or whatever this was seemed to be a new trick he was trying out. You had no doubt that if you admitted it he’d personally make a website dedicated to the fact just to embarrass you. Or he'd rent out the band or something to broadcast it to everyone. Either way you weren't biting. “Soonyoung, you’re drunk. Get away from me.”

You started to walk away but he took hold of your arm pulling you back. Taking in the look on your face he immediately let go and took a step back. But he was still smiling, and it wasn’t his shit eating grin. This was something else. This was a smirk, a knowing — you didn’t like the look of that at all. Which is probably why you even bothered engaging him. The last thing you wanted was for him to think this was a conversation he won.

“Look whatever you think you know you’re wrong. Once back in sophomore year I think I told Jun you looked cute at the talent show. You had on leather pants — it was cool to see you dance because that’s the only time that night you weren’t talking and you weren’t fucking being the bane of my existence. The Y/n of now is wildly different and understands that leather pants, good dancer or not, you’re the absolute worst.” You said with a nonchalant shrug.

But that didn’t deter him at all. He looked bemused, utterly unconvinced by what you were saying, which seemed to infuriate you in your drunken state more. He should be wanting to argue, not just standing there smiling and looking completely rideable as he so helpfully pointed out. His grin widen. Shit. Did you say that out loud?

“We should make out.” He said in reply.

“Why the hell would I do that?” You asked in disbelief.

“Proof. If you don’t want me. Kiss me. I’ll be able to tell.”

You scoffed. “Fuck that. I’m going to find Jun.” You weren’t being baited into weird Soonyoung shit. This is why the two of you didn't hang out. Being his friend was akin to majoring in getting into nonsense, something you had no interest in. You begin weaving through people at the party in search of your friend. But Soonyoung was right behind you.

“See this is the response of someone who definitely wants to fuck me. I mean you won’t kiss me because you know it’ll mess with you and I’ll be able to tell. A great philosopher once said that sometimes two people have to have sex to solve their problems.” He downed the rest of his drink and tossed the cup absentmindedly, accidentally hitting Chan in the head who was striking out with some freshman in his chem classes.

“Ow what the — ah shit Soonyoung leave Y/n alone we agreed that if you came you would back off we cannot have the cops show up again.” Chan said rubbing his clearly fine head.

“I’m not bothering you am I?” Soonyoung asked glancing at you.

“Yes you are go away.” You replied, standing on your tiptoes in search of Jun who was tall and should not be this hard to see.

“Said like someone who definitely wants my cock in their —“

You turned, grabbed Soonyoung by his face and smashed your mouth to his. This was supposed to prove a point, it would shut him up, there were witnesses to see that you had absolutely no interest in him — except for the part where his arm snaked around your waist and he pulled you flush against him. And the part where his tongue was in your mouth and he tasted like something sweet ( but also like alcohol). Oh and the part where it was an achingly good kiss. A kiss you needed to stop.

“Finally.” A voice that sounded suspiciously like Seungcheol.

“It was so annoying watching them bicker.” Wonwoo definitely.

“God I wish that was me.” Awww Chan.

But nope. This had gone on long enough. You had an image to uphold. You pulled away from a semi dazed Soonyoung and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Then you spit on the floor.

“Hey! I live here!” Mingyu exclaimed in mild horror pushing through the crowd.

“Fuck that was so bad. Is that really how you kiss?” With such soft lips and gentle swipes of his tongue?

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. No one's complained before.” You frowned and then let loose a condescending laugh.

“Just shows the quality of the people you date.” You nearly shouted through your laughter.

“Hey!” An offended voice rose from the crowd but you didn’t see who.

Soonyoung stared at you. He stood there silent for nearly a full minute. The room held its breath wondering what would happen, Mingyu had his phone out like the cops were on speed dial and then Soonyoung stepped as close to you as he possibly could and bent slightly, lowering his voice so that only you could hear him.

“I’m going to make you cum so hard you forget your own name. You’re going to want my cock in you every single night. And because I like you so much I’m going to give it to you. Then you can have my soft lips and gentle tongue whenever you want.” He pressed a kiss to your mouth briefly and then he walked away disappearing into the throng of onlookers.

Suddenly Jun was at your side. “Oh my God are you friends with Soon now?”

Fuck Kwon Soonyoung. And not in the fun sexy way he wanted. But in the fuck him and his dog and his mom’s dog too kind of way. Because he had upended your brain. Who did he think he was declaring such filthy things to you at a party and then kissing you? And what was wrong with you? Because you found something thrilling and attractive about replaying those words over and over in your mind. Enough that occasionally at night your hand slid between your legs with them ringing in your ears.

And how did he know to say exactly what you thought of your first kiss? Soft lips and gentle tongue —- he nailed it. Just like he said he would. Somehow he’d discovered in that kiss that maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you said. He could have some endearing qualities but then he’d do something to infuriate you again, or maybe that was just easier than the alternative, actually trying to be his friend.

Maturity and growth were not welcome visitors in your life at the moment. You enjoyed the version of yourself that got to be petty and childish around him. Maturity would mean confirming what Seokmin said the other day but applying it to yourself. Maybe you messed with him because you found him attractive? Growth meant setting aside your stale grudge and actually attempting to be normal with him. But after the party? Those words? His declaration? He couldn’t win. He would be insufferable otherwise. There would be no giving in, Soonyoung simply could not come out of this victorious. You wouldn't let him.

“He’s the most competitive person we know. He’s going to make good on whatever he said. I know you know this.” Jihoon said as the two of you walked across campus to the library. No one knew what Soonyoung had actually said to you, they just knew he got quiet, which meant whatever he said required action. Soonyoung only got quiet when he was serious and he needed to strategize.

“Right, but Jihoon I know he confided in you. He tells you everything. Just say what you know and help me.” You pleaded.

Jihoon shrugged. “He only said that he wanted to ask you out. Shua told him you liked that Cuban place we went to a few weeks ago. That’s it.”

You looped your arm through Jihoon’s giddy at knowing this information for two separate reasons. Kind of cute he was seeking out advice from mutual friends to ask you out. Also good to know so you could turn him down and shatter his little pea brain, and ruin his plans of catching you off guard. You would not be swept off your feet and into his bed.

You and Jihoon continued across campus towards the library and Soonyoung came into view. You did a quick once over of him before taken sudden interest in a few people passing out fliers. As always he looked infuriatingly handsome. He approached both of you, his eyebrow raising at your interlocking arms.

“Y/n. Jihoon.” Soonyoung said. He seemed normal, laid back even, despite the fact that the last time you spoke or saw each other was over a week ago at the party. You’d been avoiding most other places you might go socially, usually going to third wheel with Seokmin and his partner when you needed social interaction. But definitely not Mingyu and Wonwoo’s or with Chan and Seungkwan. That was asking to run into each other. And who knew what he’d do?

“Soonyoung, should we talk about the party? Did I hurt your feelings?” You were trying to keep your voice sincere.

“We can talk about it if you want? And my feelings aren’t hurt, they’re…well you already know how I feel.” Soonyoung replied with a sly grin.

“I thought that was a joke and you were drunk. We don’t even like each other, why would we take something like that serious?” You said dismissively and Soonyoung burst into laughter.

“I don’t joke about where I stick my dick.”

“Yep I’m gone.” Jihoon untangled himself from you and immediately turned in the direction you came from walking off.

You took hold of Soonyoung dragging him away from the front of the library and open ears. “Thank you so much for broadcasting that in front of Jihoon.” You hissed and Soonyoung just shrugged.

“He’s my roommate he knows more about my sexual history than anyone. He doesn’t care.” Soonyoung said waving the thought of Jihoon off, and then a dangerous gaze settled over you. “Wow, you look really fucking good today. Did you do that for me?” You scoffed. So maybe his words from the party got you a little riled up, but he was taking this too far. You dressed for yourself and yourself only. You would never consider in a million years whether Soonyoung liked something you wore.

“This has got to stop. This is worse than us trying to kill each other.” You declared, but Soonyoung stepped closer. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, his fingers brushed delicately against exposed skin. You fought to keep your breath steady, why was he so close?

“Oh. So that’s what it is. You like when I touch you.” The words escaped his mouth like a revelation as he glided a finger against your neck and then beneath your chin. He tilted your head upwards to look at him. “Soonyoung 1, Y/N 0 and simping harder than I’ve ever seen.”

Your hand shot up smacking his away from you. He would not move you, it didn’t matter that he looked as good as he did. It didn’t matter that his touch was sending little shivers through you. Your face remained neutral, but a slight smile begin to edge onto it. “If you’re keeping score then I’m going to actually have to start playing the game.”

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow at this. “Meaning?”

“You think the way to winning this —- thing that occurred at Seok’s party is by trying to seduce me. I get it Soonyoung, you like watching me squirm because it gives you the upper hand in our never ending power struggle of who hates who more but I haven’t been playing. I don’t think you could handle it if I did.” You said coolly, watching his expression shift. His jaw set and you could tell his competitive nature was kicking in.

“I’m pretty sure I could handle whatever you throw at me just fine. And this isn’t a game Y/n, since kissing you at the party, I don’t know. Something changed. I know it has in you.” Soonyoung responds but you’re having none of it. You know him, you’ve known him for years and whatever this is, Soonyoung will slip up sooner rather than later. He’s not being sincere in anyway, when has he ever been?

“Fine. Then consider the score reset. Soonyoung 0 and Y/n 0. We’ll see who wins.” You gave his chest a harder than necessary pat and then headed into the library confident that if you start throwing a few moves of your own his way this whole entire thing will collapse in on itself and you could return to how things were meant to be. Mutual dislike between the two of you, no sexual tension at all.

Soonyoung was winning. He was definitely winning. There wasn’t a move or a fake flirt you could do that he didn’t have a response for. The other night while getting tacos with Seungkwan and Chan you had the brilliant idea of casually sitting in his lap. You just knew it would absolutely throw him off his game. Chan and Seungkwan’s heads nearly exploded from it, but Soonyoung wrapped an arm around you and then attempted to feed you as if it was something you did everyday. He wasn’t even flustered. He didn't even break his stride in making fun of Seungkwan, you were just in his arms and then you had to sit there so it didn't look like he had completely bested you. Which he had.

Tonight would be different you declared. Your uni had gotten into the playoffs for the baseball season. It was a huge deal for your friends since Mingyu and Seokmin were both playing. You'd only been at the game twenty minutes when Soonyoung sat next to you after bribing Jun to move with ice cream and a bag of cotton candy. You'd been on your guard immediately. But Soonyoung was doing what he had the other night with the tacos. Acting as if all of this was normal. He bought all your favorite concession snacks, he made you take two pictures with him and his hand kept casually groping your leg like you were on a date. You were so confused by the whole thing you just drifted along unsure how to respond. You certainly didn't want to argue with him and ruin the night for everyone since this was such a big deal.

“Have you ever considered that he might be telling the truth?” Jihoon asked later that night at the game as you two stood in line for the bathroom. Soonyoung offered to escort you but you forced Jihoon up and out of your seats faster than you thought yourself capable. “I get that he’s…excitable but when he’s serious about something he can change drastically. This wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Do you even hear yourself? We don’t like each other. We’ve been fighting since high school. I didn’t even know he’d wind up here. If I did I would’ve gone to my second pick almost immediately to avoid him.” You groan and Jihoon looks as if he wants to be anywhere but having this discussion with you.

“Have I mentioned before that I don’t like getting in the middle of things like this? Especially when it comes to Soonyoung he’s intense.” Jihoon offered and you began to pout.

“That is so unfair. Everyone is on his side. Maybe he’s serious y/n, maybe he’s just tired of bickering, maybe he isn’t as petty as you think. Bullshit. All of you.” You said jabbing a finger at Jihoon who furrowed his brow and craned his head away from you like you were crazy.

“Wow. You two…are a lot alike. That’s mildly terrifying. Anyway, fine hypothetically if I was on your side what would you want me to do?” Jihoon asked, his tone full of regret as you began to smile.

“Flirting with him isn’t working. He just flirts back and it seems to confirm this idea that I like him, whatever. So I’m going to completely burst his bubble and flirt with you.”

Misery overcame Jihoon’s face. He opened his mouth to protest but you were already shaking your head. “Too late. We’re flirting. Try and make the reactions authentic.” You say getting ready to disappear into the bathroom.

“And if I refuse?” Jihoon questioned.

“I’ll tell everyone that you like holding hands. Seok, Gyu and Soonyoung especially would love learning that about you. They’d hold your hand every chance they got.”

Jihoon looked horrified but cowed. “I shared that with you in confidence and now you’re using it to blackmail me. Seriously you and Soonyoung would probably be a power couple. This is exactly what he’d do. Like shit, I’m kind of floored at how immature you both are." Soonyoung was prepared for every move you threw at him but he absolutely wouldn’t be prepared for the ones that you’d be throwing at Jihoon. It was hard to keep a diabolical laugh from bubbling out of you as you considered the thought.

---

Now Soonyoung was staring daggers into the side of Jihoon’s head. At first he’d been a little confused when you both came back from the bathroom and you sat down leaning your head to Jihoon’s shoulder, who stiffened and then relaxed after a moment when it became clear his life wasn’t in immediate danger from his best friend. Then you shared snacks and you legitimately giggled when your hands bumped into each other like you were in a rom com or something. Even then Soonyoung seemed a little lost but not upset.

But then to your surprise while talking to Jihoon about music theory class, out of reflexive habit his hand came up to move hair from your face. A move that threw you off enough to blush because it wasn't in Jihoon's nature to be affectionate in anyway. Jihoon blushed too as if realizing he made an error and for a brief moment something felt …different between the two of you. But then Soonyoung shifted and when you glanced his way he was scowling harder than you’d ever seen him. Now he refused to take his eyes off Jihoon, the look of betrayal on his face was hard to miss. You found yourself feeling a little guilty, this was only supposed to amplify the pettiness between you and Soonyoung, you didn’t want them blowing up at each other over it. Jihoon hadn't actually done anything wrong.

Sighing you rose to your feet. “Soonyoung can I talk to you for a moment?” He glanced up at you and immediately his face shifted, menacing glare gone, he gave you an impossibly cute smile and stood following you out to a walkway that seemed not to have as many people milling about.

“Don’t be mad at Jihoon. You look ready to kill him. It was my idea to use him to get under your skin.” You offered, and his face grew pensive.

“Yeah I know that. You’re doing a bad job of fake flirting with him. That giggle you did earlier, your voice never gets that high pitched even when you do find something funny.” Soonyoung responded in irritation. “But his responses on the other hand —- he was totally into it. Which is messed up because he knows how I feel about you.”

Now it was your turn to be confused. “Wait why do you know so much about my laugh? What do you mean he was into it? How do you feel about me?” The questions came one after another because these were all new revelations to you.

“Obviously I pay attention to you. I know Jihoon, we’ve been friends since we were kids. He wouldn’t do what he’s doing without intention. And I already told you that I want to be inside you every single night forever what is so hard to understand about that?” Soonyoung responded nearly in irritation.

“I—this is a game Soonyoung. A stupid one really. Let’s call a truce. This whole entire thing has gotten out of hand. Maybe we don’t have to dislike each other. We can actually try and be friends for once. But I don’t want you mad at Jihoon and I definitely don’t want the implications of what sleeping with you would do to my sanity.” You respond earnestly because other people getting in the middle of it was never the plan.

“I told you before. I’m not playing a game.” Soonyoung took a step closer to you and you took a step back until you hit the wall. His knee pushed between your legs until he could get as close to you as possible. His chest pressed into you, his groin against your thigh growing harder as he leaned down, his mouth capturing yours. And oh did you fold, you didn’t even try to resist. It felt impossible as his tongue pushed into your mouth. It felt impossible as his teeth nipped and sucked against your bottom lip. It felt impossible as a hand roamed across your chest, brushing against your left nipple until it pebbled under a gentle thumb. He coaxes your lips open, his tongue claiming every inch of your mouth as he sucks all the breath from your body. A kiss from someone you hate shouldn’t feel this good.

His lips dust over the shell of your ear, and you shiver. And when his hand slides over the curve of your hip and between your thighs, you whimper. Your body’s torn between fear and anticipation of the pleasure he can bring you but at what cost? Your hands go up pressing against his chest to stop him. He pulls back staring at you with hungry eyes.

“What are we doing?” You whisper shout at him.

“Personally I’m trying not to cum in my pants right now while still maintaining an air of sexiness and attraction. You?” Soonyoung replied.

“I’m — I don’t know. This is the weirdest thing that’s happened to me in a long time.” You offer because he was literally just playing with your nipple. No reason to stand on pride at this point.

“Hypothetically if I knew somehow that you didn’t exactly hate me as much as you say, would you go on a date with me? So that at least this part of it makes more sense?” He asked, two fingers dancing between the two of you.

“Hypothetically? I guess that would be okay. The date I mean.” And Soonyoung grins.

“Tomorrow night. Like six or seven?” You stare at him bewildered because what else can you even say at this point?

“Sure fine, seven.” Soonyoung grins even wider, pulls you into a hug, spins you around and smacks your ass and then takes off screaming back towards your seats that you’re going on a date. Great the entire campus can probably hear him. You don’t even go back inside. That’s enough of tonight for you. That’s definitely enough Soonyoung. The moment you’re back inside your dorm your head rest against the door. Why? Why would you do this to yourself?

“So it isn’t a joke? You’re really doing this?” Vernon asked. He’d been away helping his family the past few weeks after classes and hadn’t been on campus to see whatever was happening between you and Soonyoung unfold, apparently Minghao couldn't resist keeping him in the loop though.

“Apparently. Why are you here again?” You asked rummaging through your closet for something to wear.

“When Hao told me what happened I thought he was bullshitting me. I needed to hear it from the source. I talked to Soonyoung first. This is crazy, you hate Soonyoung.” Vernon said, all teeth and gums as he laughed.

“I don’t hate him! We’ve had our differences but we’re working on them now.” You replied defensively.

“Remember when you lined his boxers with chili paste? Or that time you were on a date with that one guy and he ruined it by asking about your fungus thing you had last semester? Or last year when we had the pool party at my house and he untied your top in front of everyone and Mingyu got like en entire eyeful? Or when you shaved the side of his head while he slept with Seungkwan and he went to his dance competition like that? You guys hate each other. Did you lose a bet? Is he holding your family hostage?”

You frowned. In the the weird vortex you’d been sharing with Soonyoung for a few weeks now, none of those old things had come to mind. You’d been way too busy plotting on how to win this made up game between the two of you. But you’d forgotten how often you messed with each other and now you were suddenly contemplating if this was a good idea. You stopped what you were doing and came to sit on your bed next to Vernon.

“I forgot about that stuff. Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is a bad idea. There's clearly been too much damage done. Mingyu still can't look me in the eye.”

Vernon’s eyes went wide. “What? No, don’t change your mind! We’re just all shocked at this turn of events, well most of us. Cheol and Jeonghan said this has clearly been sexual tension the whole time but they like to pretend to be right about everything. You can’t not go. He’ll legitimately kill me if he finds out I changed your mind somehow. That wasn't even the point, it's just so unreal.”

“But this is silly. It all stemmed from this crazy idea he got in his head that I want to sleep with him and it just kept going and going. I still don’t know how he found that out. I’ve never told anyone ever that I think he’d be good in bed. But he’s a dancer it’s kind of a given y’know?” You mused aloud to Vernon who had grown super quiet. “What?”

Vernon looked conflicted, and he began to tug on his ear as he processed how he would reply. “I’m going to tell you something that sounds really, really insane. But I swear I’m not saying it without reason. Do you remember last year when Seok went missing for like two weeks and we were all super worried and freaked out?”

You nodded. His girlfriend was hysterical and spent many a night crying on your shoulder. Everyone had been shocked and terrified thinking he died or was hurt or something. What made it even weirder was that his parents had gone missing too. It had been a rough seventeen days for all involved. Seokmin had spent the last year making it up to everyone but he still wouldn’t tell you what happened. But it seemed as if Vernon knew something.

“So okay look it’s like this. The reason our friend group is so tight is because we discovered kind of early on we were all different. In a weird way. We’ve all got these abilities I guess. Y’know like X-Men and shit. So like Seok can travel to different universes. Kwan has like empathy or whatever it’s why emotions get so high in him and everyone around him. I think Chan’s is running fast or something. Mine is time travel, which I can show you but you won’t remember us having this conversation it’ll just feel like déjà vu.”

You gave Vernon a hard long stare. You had no idea what you were expecting him to say but it wasn’t anything like that. “What the fuck? Are you high?”

Vernon rolled his eyes. “Look just hear me out. Soonyoung can read your mind. You didn’t have to tell anyone about thinking he’s fuckable or whatever. He found out by invading your privacy. Probably not on purpose, he goes out of his way not to actively use it but sometimes, if someone is thinking about him hard enough he can hear it anyway. I know that sounds insane but tonight start off by thinking the worst stuff you can about him. Watch how he reacts, then you’ll know I’m telling the truth.”

After that, completely convinced he was messing with you, you put Vernon out of your room and began the process of getting ready. Soonyoung said you’d just have dinner and go on a walk or something. Nothing too serious, so you tried to keep things simple. Still despite it all coming off as a bad prank, Vernon’s words echoed in your mind. Thinking something bad about Soonyoung wouldn’t hurt anyone, you never had to admit to trying it either. If it was a prank it wasn’t one they thought out very well. You’d be more than happy to throw that in their faces later.

At exactly seven Soonyoung was at your door. He cleaned up well, and smelled amazing. Enough that you considered abandoning the date for a moment and getting back to what he really wanted. But, almost as if he could read your mind, Soonyoung had other plans.

“I know it would be super easy to just throw our clothes off and be all over each other, but I want to actually take you out on a proper date. I don’t want you to think this is just a sexual thing.” Soonyoung said before you even got a “hi” out to him. Your eyes narrowed in brief suspicion but you figured he probably saw the desire all over your face. You didn’t exactly hide it in the moment. Maybe that's how he was able to figure this whole thing out.

“Well that’s what I was expecting. Who said anything about taking our clothes off?” You asked in mild annoyance, and locked your door behind you.

Soonyoung didn’t reply, he looked at you curiously but didn’t try to prove a point. Which was for the better because your mind was already drifting to Vernon’s words. So of course you began to think of some of the more disheartening things you’d thought about Soonyoung over the years. None of which were exactly nice, that mostly had been thought of in irritation and malice to make you feel better about something rude he’d done.

The shift was subtle and had you not been looking for it you wouldn’t have noticed it. But the date started off fine. He held doors, made small talk, laughed at your jokes and made some funny ones of his own. After he paid for dinner though you found silence stretching across the table between you. He didn’t look happy, he kept shifting and glancing at you and then looking away when you caught him.

“Something on your mind?” You asked in disbelief, because his mood had changed. Just like Vernon said it would.

“Did I do something between the game and tonight? I mean — I thought maybe we were turning over a new leaf but you don’t seem…you seem to feel about me the way you always have like maybe I didn’t try hard enough. Did you not like the date or…?” Soonyoung said quietly and your heart began beating wildly in your chest.

“What makes you say that? Have I been acting different or something?” You asked.

“No, I mean I guess that’s the thing. You seem into it, but then you sort of don’t. I can’t explain it.” He said solemnly, and then he offered you a tired smile. “Whatever I’m just thinking too hard. We got what we needed out of this date right? We don’t have to take things any further but I would like to try being friends. Think I’m getting too old to be fighting with you constantly., Jihoon said it's why I keep finding random grey pubic hairs.”

You were on your feet immediately, pointing an accusatory finger at Soonyoung. “Oh my fucking God. Vernon was telling the truth. You read my mind!” You accused rather loudly, enough for a few heads in the restaurant to turn and stare at you.

“What!? Noooo are you crazy? That’s impossible.” Soonyoung said trying to pull off the worst acting you’d ever seen.

“This — you — Kwon Soonyoung!” You turned storming out of the restaurant angrily. How humiliating. How long had he been able to tell what you were thinking? Shame flooded you, some of things you thought about him you couldn’t even repeat aloud to yourself. And he knew them, this entire time! That sneaky little fucker.

“Wait! Y/n please let me explain it was an accident!” Soonyoung caught up to you, hands held up in surrender as he came stumbling from the restaurant.

“How do you accidentally read minds?” You snapped at him, unable to process that you were actually asking the question.

“At the dinner for Jeonghan when you were trying to hit me over the head with the extinguisher I was scared for my life! It took Mingyu and Cheol to hold you back and everyone was pretty sure you were about to kill me. I just wanted to know your intent because there was such hatred coming off of you, and so when I took a teeny tiny baby peek even though you were physically trying to assault me your mind was…you were thinking about how cute I was when I was scared. And that was weird….I didn’t know what to make of it. So as time went on I started paying more attention to your stronger thoughts, not invading your mind, but the ones that leak out because they’re so intense. All the thoughts you had about me weren’t violent or even that angry. You were definitely annoyed a lot but Jihoon has that reaction all the time too. I was just surprised because most of the thoughts were kinda hot.” He finished, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

“How long?” You demanded stepping closer to him.

“Huh?”

“How long have you been doing this?” You clarified and he looked sheepish.

“Since last year. I never stopped after the dinner. I was trying to work up the courage to talk to you about it or ask you out but everytime we got within six feet of each other we bickered and I’d forget. It wasn’t until we were at Seok’s party and I was drunk and just kept saying what was on my mind. And then you kissed me and you liked the kiss and —“

Your face fell into your hands. “Oh my God that’s why you knew what I thought about the kiss and why you said it back to me. It’s why I could never catch you off guard with the flirting. It’s how you knew I was faking it with Jihoon! This is — fuck you Soonyoung! This was a game that would literally be impossible for me to win, because you have telepathy!” You let out a hysterical laugh.

Soonyoung looked at a loss for words. “Why do you keep saying that? It was never a game for me. For two years I’ve been trying to work up the courage to say something. When I did I was drunk and it was the wildest thing I’ve ever said but it got a reaction out of you. And I wanted that so I just kept going because we would be amazing together if we stopped fighting for once.”

You stared at him. You had no idea what to make of things now, it all seemed too much. Learning telepathy was real was already a huge ask, learning that all this time Soonyoung’s feelings had been genuine and you were too annoyed with him to see that kind of overtook the telepathy thing.

“So—what now?” You asked because you genuinely had no clue what to do or say next. Your mind was a mess, you were in shock definitely and couldn’t form coherent thought.

“You win.” Soonyoung said, taking your hand in his. “I’m the prize. Let’s go.”

Soonyoung is in the living room in just his tight briefs. Your eyes are drawn like a magnet to the outline of his cock. He’s fresh out of the shower ( he got really nervous and sweaty on the drive home ) and you’ve relaxed some from earlier with two drinks and a lot of conversation about telepathy. You’re hovering in the kitchen nursing a glass of water wondering why in the world you agreed to come back to his place with him.

“You enjoying yourself?” He asks as he catches you staring.

He crosses the room and stands right in front of you. A solid wall of muscle and sex. It’s as though he has some kind of magnetic field around him. His presence is inescapable. Once you’re in his orbit, you can’t seem to think straight. You act like somebody you don’t even recognize. Your pussy develops a mind of it’s own. He is so full of potent, raw sexuality and energy. Everything about him screams run away, but your body is drawn to him anyway.

“Who am I kidding,” he says, his voice low and deep, as he bends his head and brings his mouth closer to your ear. “I stare at you no matter what you’re wearing. So I’m no better.”

“Stop,” You whisper. You can’t do this. You cannot let this man get a hold on you, because you know he was right earlier. You would be so good together. For whatever reason, you have insane chemistry, and you can’t let him take this any further. You can’t allow yourself to have any feelings for him. That would compromise every rule you made for yourself when it came to Soonyoung.

“I can’t stop,” he says, his voice dropping another octave. He places a hand on your hip, and your skin blooms with heat. “Believe me, I’ve tried. I need to fuck you more than I have ever needed anything in my life.”

“We can’t,” You protest, but your voice is so quiet it’s barely audible.

“We can.” His other hand is on your other hip now, and he pulls you closer to him until your bodies are almost touching. “Look at me,” he commands.

And you do it. Just like that, because he told you to. Because your body obeys him and you don’t even know when that started to happen. You blink as you stare up at him. His pupils are so wide, they make his brown eyes appear black. They are full of longing and fire and need.

“It wouldn’t work. It would be a huge mistake,” You offer feebly.

He shakes his head. “No, it wouldn’t, and you know it. Let me take you to my bed and I’ll show you exactly how much of a mistake it wouldn’t be.”

You open your mouth but no words come out. All you can focus on are his strong fingers flexing on your hips. How good they felt last night when he touched you at the baseball game. How much you wanted him to carry on before you stopped him. Your core contracts, flooding your pussy with heat and making you suck in a stuttered breath.

Soonyoung narrows his eyes at you. "I’ll make you a deal.”

“What deal?” You breathe out the words.

“Look at the clock on the wall behind me, and if I can’t make you come in two minutes, then you can go to your dorm. But if I do make you come, then you spend the night with me. What do you say?” His voice has taken on that trademark competitive edge. He’s all cockiness now. Typical Soonyoung.

You lick your lips, staring at him. You’re already wet. But under two minutes? There’s no way he could pull that off. You’ve never had anyone make you come that easily. Not even guys you were really into. And you don’t even like Soonyoung, so you can hold out, right? Besides, every cell in your body is vibrating with sexual energy. You want his hands on you. You want his fingers inside you. Just this once. Just to relieve this constant aching need in your pussy. Just once. “Okay, but when you don’t get the job done in two minutes, you don’t get to leave me hanging,” You say with a tilt of your head.

He smirks, full of confidence and arrogance. “I’ll make you come no matter how long it takes. I promise.”

“Okay,” You whisper. What the hell are you doing?

“Eyes on the clock then,” he orders. “And be honest about the time.”

“Of course,” You insist, your eyes now trained on the clock behind him, watching the second hand tick around.

“Then start timing me,” he growls. It takes him exactly two seconds to get his hand inside your panties. You place your hands on the counter on either side of you to keep yourself steady as he slides his fingers through your folds. “So wet already,” he says with a wicked grin. “

“You have one minute and fifty seconds,” You tell him as the clock goes on ticking.

“Plenty of time,” he growls as he starts to rub the pads of his middle and pointer fingers over and around your swollen clit with the perfect amount of pressure. Pleasure skitters around your body. He presses his lips against your ear. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” You breathe, your knuckles turning white as your grip on the counter gets firmer. He’s still not going to do this in under two minutes though. But then he starts kissing your neck. Trailing his lips and teeth over your sensitive skin as he dips his hand further into your panties, pulling them down as he works his entire hand between your thighs and forces you to spread your legs wider apart. One minute, thirty-two seconds left.

“You like this more though, right?” Soonyoung whispers as he slides a finger inside you. He eases it in and out of you, and you bite your lip to stop from screaming his name and begging him for more. You’re not giving him any pointers. One minute, nine seconds. Clearly though, he doesn’t need any help. A few seconds later, he adds a second finger and your pussy coats him with slick heat and practically purrs his name.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he gasps out clearly enjoying this just as much as you are. He drives deeper until he hits your G-spot and starts to massage it with his skilled fingers. Holy mother of fucking God. Fifty-two seconds. You wonder briefly if he can hear your thoughts.

“I can.” He responds with a dark laugh. “I like it. Keep going.”

“Ok,” You moan as you wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him while he finger fucks you like he has a telepathic connection to your pussy too. Like he just unlocked expert level and completely bypassed all the others. His lips dust over the shell of your ear.

“Your cunt loves my fingers. Wait until it feels my cock.”

“Soonyoung,” You groan as the familiar wave of an impending orgasm starts rolling through your core. Your thighs are trembling.

“Keep your eyes on the clock,” he pants as you bury your face against him.

“Yeah, clock,” You gasp as your head goes on spinning and your body starts to vibrate with its impending release. You look over his shoulder. Twenty five seconds. He’s not going to do it. He drives his fingers harder and deeper while he starts grinding the heel of his palm against your sensitive clit. Twenty-two seconds.

“So wet. You hear that?” he questions. And you do. You hear the sound of your arousal dripping over his fingers as he works them in and out of you. Damn, he’s going to do it. Fifteen seconds.

“You’re going to come like my good little kitten so I can bury my cock inside you, too, aren’t you?”

“Fucking hell Soonyoung,” You cry out his name as your orgasm crashes into your body. He wraps one strong arm around your waist, holding you tight while he continues gently massaging your pussy as your body bucks and shudders. Your eyes roll in your head as you struggle to focus on his face. He’s staring at you. His eyes blaze with fire. But then he lets you go and walks to the other side of the room. The loss of heat makes you shiver in the cool room as you come down from the most intense orgasm you think you’ve ever had in my life. He opens a cupboard and pulls out something before walking back to you. It’s only when he’s standing right in front of you again that you see what he’s holding. A condom.

“Take off your pants,” he orders before he tears into the packet with his teeth.

“I thought we were going to your room?” You whisper, surprised by how much the thought of him taking you to bed and continuing what he’s just started makes your entire body buzz with excitement. He’s looking down, rolling the condom onto his cock. He looks up at you again to answer your question, his dark eyes locking on yours.

“Oh, we are, but I need to fuck you right now, so take off the goddamn pants.”

You swallow a thick knot of anxiety that feels lodged in your throat, but you start to slide both your jeans and panties down your thighs. What if somebody comes in here?

“Jihoon’s at a gig until late, he already told me. No one else is coming over they know we’re on a date,” he says, because that’s right he can read your freaking mind.

He wraps you in his arms and lifts you onto the lowest counter. “So this will work just fine,” he groans as he positions himself between your thighs. He mumbles something as he presses his huge cock against your opening. Your thighs are trembling. “I’ll take this first go easy. Wouldn’t want your instinct to hit me to kick in.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before he edges the tip of his length inside you, stretching you wide. It burns, but it feels so damn good too. You wrap your arms and legs around him, burying your face against his neck as he eases in deeper. “You’re so fucking tight,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

Then he takes hold of your legs and unwraps them from around his waist. “I need you to let me in, kitten,” he groans, full of frustration and impatience. He hooks his forearms under your knees, pulling your hips toward him and spreading your thighs wide open. Your heart starts beating wildly as he looks at you. So exposed and open and vulnerable, in a way you’ve never wanted to be. At least not in his presence. But the Soonyoung who might use this against you, see it as an opening to get the upper hand is gone.

“Fuck Y/n. Your cunt looks so good being stretched by my cock,” he groans, and you reward him with a moan as your pussy squeezes around him. “Just keep holding on to me,” he growls as he slides a little deeper, and wet heat floods your pussy. You cling to his neck, dragging your lips over his skin as his muscles vibrate with the effort of holding himself back. You can feel the raw power in every muscle of his body, and the fact that he’s trying to be gentle makes your heart ache. This is torture. The slow burning stretch of being filled by him is turning your brain to liquid, not to mention every other organ in your body. It hurts, but it’s not enough. You need all of him.

Suddenly, you’re overcome by a desperate need to be filled by him. A burning desire to have him deep inside you, until there is no space left between you both. Your pussy throbs with a deep, carnal longing for his cock. Dusting your lips over the skin of his neck, you smile as it elicits a deep growl in his throat. “I want more,” You whisper.

“More?”

“For the love of God, Soonyoung. Just fuck me,” You plead, surprised at your own words because you have never, ever, begged to be fucked before. And certainly not by a man as infuriating and hateful as this one. He curses as he drives all the way inside you. You press your mouth against his skin, muffling your cries of pleasure tinged with pain as he fills you. You try to squeeze your thighs, but he holds you open as he slides out before driving back inside. Warmth floods your core. Each time he pulls out and thrusts back in, your pussy rewards him with more slick heat.

“Oh fuck,” You whimper in his ear as he groans in yours.

“You feel so fucking good. Being inside you… I knew it would…” He thrusts harder, and you always pass out as the crown of his cock rubs against something inside you that makes you scream in pleasure whilst also wanting to declare your undying devotion to him. Apparently love and hate really are two sides of the same coin. As the last tremors of your second orgasm pulse through you, Soonyoung whispers how pretty you are as he grinds out his own release. When he pulls out of you a few seconds later, the wet sound that echoes around the small room makes your cheeks burn with heat. He pulls the condom off and tosses it into the trash can. You lean against the counter with your legs wobbling like Jell-O and wondering what happens now. This is unfamiliar territory for you.

But then he grabs hold of your hand and pulls you with him as he starts walking down the hall.

“Where are we going?”

“My room, kitten,” he says with a wink. “I am nowhere near done with you.”

Despite what you just did in the kitchen, you feel nervous and kind of awkward as you stand in Soonyoung’s bedroom, next to his bed with questionable tiger striped sheets. He stalks toward you, and it makes a shiver run the length of your spine. You are so out of your depth here you just might drown. He runs his fingertips over your cheek. “Why are you so nervous?” he asks in a soft, gentle tone.

“This isn’t… I don’t usually do this kind of thing,” You say, old irritation flaring.

“Have sex?” he asks with a flicker of amusement.

“With people who I don’t even like, yes,” You snap. If he’s trying to mess with you, then he can go to hell.

“There’s my feisty little kitten.” He slides his hands over your hips and onto your ass, pulling you close to him so that you can feel his hard cock pressing against your stomach. “But you have nothing to be nervous about. You already know how hard you make me and how much I want to fuck you.” He reaches for the edge of your shirt and starts to peel it off you, and you lift your arms to help him. And now you're standing in front of him completely naked. His hands coast over your back, running over every inch of skin.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs as he trails soft kisses over your neck. “I want to see every part of you. I want to taste you.” He pushes you back against the bed until you're lying on it. His hands slide up your thighs as he spreads them wide open until you're completely exposed to him. The look in his eyes makes your thighs tremble, and before you can stop him, his head is between your thighs and his mouth is on your clit.

He presses the flat of his tongue against you. He licks the length of your wet slit and damn near makes your eyes roll back in your head. “Fucking heaven, going to enjoy eating you out,” he murmurs before he sucks your clit into his hot mouth and swirls his tongue over the sensitive bud of flesh.

“Holy fuck,” You hiss as your toes curl and your thighs tremble.

He is so good at that. How much practice has he had? Suddenly, you don’t care. Heat and pleasure builds in your core and rolls through your thighs while he feasts on your pussy with more skill than any man his age should have all to himself. When he slips two fingers into you and starts to fuck you while he eats, you enter a whole new realm of pleasure. In fact, you think you might just have drifted onto another plane of existence. And when you look at his face, he catches your eye and winks, and you almost pass out.

He didn’t lie about enjoying this, he’s getting as much out of it as you are. You press your head back against the pillow, silencing your constant internal chatter and focusing on his magical fingers and tongue and the pleasure they are currently wringing from your body. And when you come with a breathy cry of his name, he doesn’t stop. Not even when you pull his hair and tell him you've had enough.

“I haven’t,” he purrs, wrapping his arms around the backs of your thighs to hold you close to his face as you squirm. “Give me one more and then I can fuck you as hard as I want to.”

A wave of pleasure rolls over you, knocking the breath from your lungs and rendering you speechless. You're so lost in the bliss that you almost don't hear him utter the question, "What's your name?"

"What?" You murmur in confusion chasing the pleasure shooting through you,

"Name?" He ask again, his mouth vibrating against your clit.

"Soonyoung," You answer through a moan and he laughs.

"That's my name. I want to know your name." He says and you don't answer, you can't. It feels too good, your release is too close. And only when he has wrung another mind-altering orgasm from your body does he stop. Pushing himself up and rolling on a condom, he plows into you, burying his face in your neck as he nails you to his mattress. And all you can do is cling on, with your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck as he fucks you better than you had ever even dreamed was possible.

Afterwards you and Soonyoung lie in bed facing each other, which feels strangely personal even after what you've just done. There's the sound of a door opening and closing indicating Jihoon must be home. You have no idea how you're going to explain this, Soonyoung didn't even close his door when he dragged you in here. So now you're both exposed wrapped in his horrible bed sheets waiting for Jihoon to pass by.

"Hey remember when I told you at Seok's party I'd make you cum so hard you'd forget your own name?" Your face floods with heat, embarrassment creeping along your spine. Soonyoung just grins.

"I win."

TO BE CONTINUED.....

#seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt fanfic #svt smut #svt fic #seventeen fic #hoshi x reader #hoshi smut #wa: writing.#wa: nsfw.#wa: streetlights.#wa: hoshi.#idk i always post on sunday #catholic school fucked me up probably lol

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kentopedia · 7 months ago

Text

˚₊‧꒰ა cold embrace (provenance) — fyodor dostoevsky

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎. you buy a two hundred year old house with a two hundred year old painting hanging above the mantel. it's not the only thing the previous owner left behind.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈. ghost!fyodor, f!reader, violence, angst, death, alternate / modern universe, no smut but it is suggestive, fyodor is kind of a pervy ghost so, wc: 6.1k

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈. this one has two titles bc it was supposed to be for my kinktober... never finished it. embarrassing ! but here is a semi-revamped version for this series! i can finally check it off my wips page <3 idk how i feel about it but i hope you enjoy

part of my summerween series !

A chime from the grandfather clock brings Fyodor out of his stupor, the sound signaling another day, another meaningless hour that will only continue his eternal misery. He’s grown used to it now—evening after evening of emptiness, of reading nothing but the same books, playing the same pieces of dull sheet music, and the lifeless chess matches against himself. The house is cold with only his presence, dusty without a housekeeper and a life to make it a home.

There are a million things in Fyodor’s life that he must have done to deserve this misery, but he can’t pinpoint which one solidified his reward of a lamentable, endless cycle.

He’s certain hell is better than this. It’s something he wishes for every day, if only to have an eternal companion with the devil, a challenge to overcome.

Though, even with this boredom, Fyodor refuses to let anyone live in his home. They’ll only serve to be another pain, something that would, surely, push him past the brink of sanity.

The centuries old décor will get replaced with gaudy twenty-first century items, ones that will be nothing more than an eyesore. There are a few already scattered around his home from previous tenants, but only things that he believed useful enough for him to keep; a few books from authors he didn’t live to read, a television from the nineties, a computer that he watched one couple scroll on before he murdered them in cold blood.

Perhaps he is two hundred years dead and gone, but he refuses to be an ignorant ghost, one that is unaware of anything beyond these four walls, caught forever in the past.

Although now, it’s been a while since anyone’s tried to move in, and he’s certain the only reason the house hasn’t been torn down is because its preserved nicely, an eighteenth-century home that has withstood the test of time.

Fyodor, in his lowest moments, wishes they would tear it down. Maybe then, and only then, can he be set free. Or maybe, he’s forever trapped in this exhaustive lot, doomed to decay, even when there’s nothing left of the foundations but soil.

He pushes a pawn forward on the board, putting himself in checkmate for the millionth time in a row. It’s been so long that he’s used to his own tricks. Even the computer, which he’d come to understand quickly, is no match for him. It’s far too exhaustive to play against a machine that utilizes an algorithm he can so easily decipher.

Out of nowhere, the front door unlocks, and Fyodor glances over at the sound, dark hair falling over his eyes. Seconds later, he notices an older realtor with a clipboard leading you around, a woman he’s never seen, dressed up nicely with a darker shade of lipstick smeared across your mouth.

He’s been through this before. It’s a miracle the realtor hasn’t given up on this house yet, a mansion she is determined to sell despite the endless horrors that have been committed by his hand.

“Here it is,” she says, nervous, gesturing around the expansive hall, the crystal chandelier and staircase that immediately follows. “It was built in 1731, but one of the owners remolded it in the style of the mid-nineteenth century. The structure has been stabilized; it’s safe… enough.”

The two of you chat, but he doesn’t bother to listen in. It’s all questions of: when can I move in? can we negotiate? — things you will come to regret once he sets his sights on killing you.

Then, the realtor is sighing, wringing her hands together as she watches you spin around the house in awe. It’s clear that you’re impressed by the layout, the rich furniture and colors that have been used.

That, at least, satisfies Fyodor. Everyone else who has moved in was looking to upgrade it to a modern style, rid the place of its aged grace and charm.

“I’m truly sorry,” she says, brushing curly hair away from her cheekbones. “But I am legally obligated to tell you that every person who has lived here before has suffered a terrible, terrible fate. There have been gruesome murders that cannot be explained, done in ways that I don’t even want to tell you about.”

You laugh, eyeing her with skepticism. “Are you telling me it’s haunted?”

The realtor shrugs. “That’s what people say.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” you answer, and Fyodor rolls his eyes, scoffing as he floats to the second floor, unable to listen into the unreasonable conversation anymore. It’s been the same story for decades. No one believes in ghosts, but it is always a ghost that kills them.

He returns to the chess board, irritated, though unable to consider the game any further. Your face is stuck in his mind. For some reason, he can’t remember the last time he’s ever seen anyone with such beauty.

Fyodor stops; your ageless elegance doesn’t matter—it can’t, and it won’t. You’ll be dead by the end of the month, when you gather all your things and invade the bedroom that was once his own. Even if you are beautiful, you are a nuisance, a threat to Fyodor’s eternal torment and quiet existence.

Still, he can’t help but wonder if it would be nice to have something other than his own thoughts to distract him from the endless misery.

You move in on the thirteenth of June, nothing more than a few boxes and a decade old car to keep you company. He guesses you’ve traveled a long distance to get here, and you’ve gotten rid of half of your life in the process.

A good thing for him. That means things can be over relatively quickly, and all your belongings can be disposed of easily after he kills you.

You spend the entire first day unpacking, and Fyodor waits patiently, allows you time to get comfortable in his home. He watches as you bring a stack of thick novels into the waiting room, which once boasted large parties, and place them on a shelf below those that have his name within the covers.

You take a few calls as you hang up your autumn coats, ones that won’t be needed for a few months. The voice on the other line sounds frantic, worried. A local, most likely. You only seem annoyed by his continuous string of anxieties.

When the sun sets, and you grow tired, you rub your eyes and head to bed. The first night you will spend in this place that Fyodor likens to Hell.

It’s the time he’s been waiting for—a moment to catch you off guard. You are so unsuspecting, already so at home in the mansion, that you have no fear of anything hurting you in the middle of the night.

While you get ready for bed, Fyodor slips into your room, observing the pieces of your life that have conquered his bedroom. A soft classical piece plays from your phone, one that he recognizes from his mortal life. Clearly, you are fascinated by the period he once lived in. A shame, really, he won’t be able to tell you more about it.

You leave the bathroom, come back towards him to change into a pair of small shorts, a large shirt hanging over your frame.

He’s forgotten how long it’s been since he’s seen a woman, how long since he’s touched one.

Fyodor finds himself distracted by your body, the smoothness of your skin. His eyes travel over your legs, your hips, the fullness of your breasts and ignores how much he desires to let his thumb graze over your flesh. There is something so soft about you, so gentle and innocent.

Perhaps, that is where his fascination stems from: he has always been the opposite. Even in his human existence, Fyodor was not a kind man, and he doesn’t plan on becoming one now that he is dead.

He shakes away the vision, the thoughts that swirl within his mind. It has been far too long since he has experienced any sort of pleasure, and maybe even a man as cold as himself is not immune to the desires that course within his veins.

Though he tries to be. He ignores his arousal desperately in exchange for a renewed bloodlust.

You climb into bed, put your phone on the white cord, and shut your eyes. Thirty minutes later, you’re sleeping soundly, soft puffs of air leaving your lips as you sleep.

It’s the opportune moment. The silver knife gleams brightly in his hand, streaks of moonlight tracing over the slanted point. It’s the same blade he’s killed every other new tenant with, their screams still echo in the halls like a harmonious melody each time he bring the knife down on another unknowing victim.

He stands before you at the side of the bed, watches as your chest rises and falls, the evidence of your life undeniable. You are a lovely image like this, something to be painted and adored; more beautiful than many of the women he’d met in his time, even those who were of the finest elite in the country.

Fyodor presses the blade to your throat, contemplative. He considers how much lovelier you will look with the scarlet stain of blood seeping down your neck, spraying across the room and ruining the fresh sheets. Will you awaken, gasping as you claw at your throat, or will you drift away without even understanding what has become of you?

He pictures it, and digs the blade close to your throat, nothing more than a pinprick of blood flowering there.

You don’t awaken; but you a little sound leaves you, something between a gasp and a moan, and you shift away from the knife gripped between his pale fingers. It’s a sound that has him pausing, musing, as he regards your vulnerable state, a beautiful figure there with no clue that such a murderous man is also a resident in her home.

You make another one of those pretty noises in your throat, and Fyodor, against two centuries of murderous intent, pulls the knife away. He watches as you roll on your stomach, your shirt scrunching, moving up your body to reveal the undersides of your breasts. Your hand shifts towards him on the bed, reaching in his direction, before you still. Then, your breathing is back to normal, evened out completely.

Your lips part blissfully as you sigh in your sleep.

He can’t stop looking at you, can’t stop wondering what his name would sound like leaving the perfect swell of your mouth, if you’d sound just as pretty when you orgasm as you do when you’re asleep.

Surely, he can find a better use for you—it would be a shame for such a pretty thing to go out so early.

As he draws back, Fyodor notices the chess board on the side table, the pieces arranged nicely, each on the correct square. He can’t tell if you play. You could just have it for decoration, or perhaps it was a gift given to you from a lover that he hasn’t seen pictures of, the one that he’s certain someone as lovely as you must have.

The board is aged; not as old as the one in the drawing room, but a nice set, nonetheless. Fyodor glances back at your sleeping form once more, smiles coolly to himself, and shifts a pawn forward.

The chess piece is the first thing you notice in the morning.

It’s almost ridiculous how easily it catches your eye, a tiny little movement within the chaos that was your brand-new room. A pawn is on a different square, leering at you from the other wall, as if smiling, a flashing sign above its head, calling to you, hoping you’ll pay attention.

You almost think nothing of it; things can move, can’t they? Perhaps there was a shift in the earth overnight… Though, that makes little sense when you think about it rationally.

It’s strange, that much is certain. You remember the realtor telling you about the ghosts, and though you aren’t inclined to believe in haunted houses and scary stories, you find a part of yourself questioning the logic of the chess piece.

You are certain it was on the correct square before you slept.

It’s the only thing on your mind as you get ready, suffer through a tasteless breakfast, and throw on a rain jacket to combat the dreary weather. You’re meeting a friend for lunch—the only friend you have in this town. Sigma is the sole reason you decided to move here, instead of the other arbitrary cities that you’d been desperate to escape to.

Still, the board won’t leave your mind. You take one last glance at it before, on a whim, pushing the opposite color pawn forward as well.

Then you leave, hoping that a conversation with your friend will take your mind off the strangeness of that happenstance, the anxiety you feel about moving to a new place, a new job where no one knows you, a home that stays cold, despite the heat that reigns with long summers.

The walk to the cafe is short, but with the wind and the drizzling rain, you are miserable, your hands wrinkling from the dampness, even within your pockets.

Sigma is waiting for you, his lavender and white hair loose over his shoulders as he peruses the menu, eyes darting across it like he’s never read it before.

You sit, offer him a greeting, and though your conversation is cordial, the two of you catching up on your day, you eventually ask the question you’ve been dying to know.

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Sigma stops, puts the utensil back down on his plate, and regards you with a thin frown. “Did something happen?”

You think of the chess piece, wonder if another will be moved when you get home. “No, but—”

“I told you not to move into that house,” he says, eyes narrowing. Sigma refuses to step into that mansion, grows anxious every time you mention it. “Over ten people have died there. Do you want to get murdered?”

“No particularly,” you say, staring at him flatly, your mouth pulling into a line. “But I’ve made it one night already. I’ll be fine.”

A hard laugh leaves him, as he shakes his head, unamused by your cheekiness. “That’s what they all say, isn’t it? Then they all die.”

“Very dramatic.” You take a long sip of your water. Sigma’s features don’t crack in the slightest as he stares at you, waiting for you to continue. “I’m not scared. I just want to know if you believe in ghosts or not… Because I don’t.”

Sigma’s eyes flit across your face, searching for any hint of a lie, for any signs of fear. When he finds none, his hands stretch across the table, lacing them together as he glares. “Whether you believe in ghosts or not doesn’t matter. There’s something evil about that house, and you’re putting yourself in danger by living there.”

The conversation with Sigma weighs on your mind for hours after, when you return home, still thinking about the chess board. It was just as you’d left it, two pawns moved forward, staring each other down menacingly. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You sigh and finally put it out of your mind. It was just a coincidence, that’s all. The piece was probably on the wrong square all along, and you’d been too tired last night to notice it.

Instead, you focus your sights on unpacking, and contemplate what to do with the portrait hanging above the mantel.

It’s a dusty old thing, one that the previous owners had, for some reason, never taken down. It had hung over the mantel for centuries, the corners faded from the sun, but the sinister grin of the subject never losing its effect.

You tilt your head, stare at it from a different angle. Looking at it that way, you could, perhaps, see why the painting appealed to them. It’s old, with a style from a different century, and the man composed of deep shadows and pale colors is undeniably handsome. He seems out of place in the portrait, trapped there, too otherworldly to be captured on such a canvas. His features are sharp, molded out of something tougher than diamonds, something more beautiful than this plane is able to comprehend. His deep eyes seem to know all as they stare at you, trace you across the room.

For minutes, you are hypnotized, before a wave of disgust washes over you, and you turn away, unable to look at it any longer. You’ll sell it, you decide. Maybe it will be worth a pretty penny.

That evening, you decide to look into it, but the search into a local art dealer doesn’t get far. When you sit down at your laptop, beginning to type your question into the browser, the lid shuts on your fingertips.

It takes a moment for you to register what had happened. A faint sting dances along the back of your hands, your knuckles tender as you lift the lid back up. Lines bounce along the screen, as if the imprint of your hand had made its way into the pixels, matching the pulse of your nerves.

You curse lowly, hoping that a reset will fix the issue.

The lid had just fallen, nothing serious. It was a newer model, but those things could happen. Issues with the manufacturing, with the way it was assembled. Technology fails you all the time.

You hold the power button, irritated, and upset, when a horrible, screeching noise echoes from the computer. Nothing but a shrill scream, the speakers begging you for help. You slam it shut once more, and the noise stops, but your heartbeat doesn’t slow down.

Shit.

Tomorrow, you’ll have to take it in, and see if anyone can discern the issues. It’s not ideal, but there’s so many things to still need to do, and a broken laptop makes those things very difficult.

You sigh, pushing the chair back into the table. The portrait looms above you as you retreat back to your room, hands shaking. It’s irrational, you know it is, but you swear his eyes follow you all the way up the stairs.

It doesn’t take long for you to start believing in the ghost that is haunting your manor, the one who has let you live for a week and who plays a new game of chess every time your back is turned. Whoever it is, they are much better than you; so far, you’ve lost twice—haven’t even gotten close to winning.

He hides things from you, items that you are needing for the next day, papers that you can’t submit to work on time because the important files have been stashed away.

You find your books opened to paragraphs the ghost seemingly finds interesting, your sheet music scattered in a mess when you return. The candles get blown out unexpectedly, and doors slam when you’re not suspecting it.

If he’s trying to scare you—it isn’t working. You remain in the house, sometimes talking to him like he’s a friend, whispering amongst the walls that know all of the secrets in your home.

You stop at the library on your free weekend, flipping through a dusty copy of the local legends, only stopping when you find your home. There’s a copy of the painting there—your painting, the one that still hangs above your mantel, despite your better judgment.

Beside it, there’s a painting of your home, done when the house was first built. The outside of it is a differently color entirely, the garden in front blooming with pink and yellow flowers. It looks cheerful; the home of a warm and loving family, inviting and kind to each of the neighborhood children. Nothing like the dark manor it is today, with a dead garden in the front and shutters that keep even an ounce of light out.

You read the pages proceeding the painting. The first owner had been a kind man, but the next were not such. After the original owner lost his wealth, he sold the house, passed it to a line of greedy men, ones that were focused only on their money. For a century, it went on this way—until a man named Fyodor Dostoevsky purchased the home for twice as much as it once was.

He was the one who changed it, renovated it, upgraded it to his own personal style, ensuring that it fit in with the times and his own opinions of luxury. Fyodor was charming, but ruthless, deadly with his own intelligence, owning half the town as they lost their money to his schemes.

Fyodor’s rein came to an end when he was poisoned by his closest friend, perhaps the one man he had trusted. It was the first murder in a string of ones to follow within the house.

You close the book, unsure if you regret the knowledge you’d gained or not.

The house feels colder now that you know the history of it. As if you can see the cruelty etched into every wall. Colors of the home bleed into each other, a pastel yellow of warmth and light, and the next room empty, almost uninhabitable, with its royal purples.

You stare at the portrait as you make dinner, feeling like you can never escape the gaze of those oil painted eyes. He has a name now—Fyodor. It feels even more disarming now that you know more about him than he’ll ever know about you.

And though Fyodor watches you, every night, from every angle, you convince yourself it’s just the way that the painting is situated. It would be foolish to think that he’s really watching every move you make, irises pinned on your form, unblinking.

The oven heats up behind you as you cut up your food, humming a soft tune to yourself. It’s getting hotter outside – you’d almost forgotten how miserable the summers could be. You forget every year, even though you’ve lived many.

Just as you’re getting lost in your thoughts, going through a list of things that need to get done in your fixer-upper home, you hear a scratch behind you.

It’s a quick sound, so quick that you almost think it was only your imagination. It’s enough to give you pause, your humming fading out into the night as your eyes dart around your house. Although you’ve tried not to let urban legends get the best of you, you’re paranoid in this aged mansion now.

A few seconds pass. You listen to the sound of your own heartrate, feel it pounding in your chest as you will it to calm down. It’s just enough time for you to convince yourself that it was nothing, that you’re far too nervous about silly ghosts to think rationally.

Though as you turn, a knife flies from the counter, just grazing your cheek, but enough to cause a scratch to open up against the skin. Your finger draws away scarlet as you press it to the wound, staring at the painted crevices of your fingertip.

You can’t move. Despite every cell in your body begging, screaming at you to move, you’re frozen, trapped in the four walls of that kitchen as you stare at your bloodied hand.

It’s all a dream, you repeat to yourself. A dream.

One that you don’t wake up from.

Time passes strangely, when every muscle in your body is on edge, your head pounding from the anxiety that spikes throughout your nervous system. A bead of sweat drips from your temple, and though you aren’t sure how long you stand there, nothing else happens. The knife remains lodged in the wall behind you, and the ghost makes no other attempt to lodge one into your stomach.

It’s quiet. There’s no noise, save for the music that plays softly from your phone.

After you regain control of your racing heartrate, you realize that the song playing isn’t what you’d put on originally. It had switched to a gentle, classical piece. Tchaikovsky, you think… or something similar. Something that a man from a different era would be familiar with.

“Who’s there?” You find yourself saying, perhaps stupidly. “What do you want?”

There’s no response – of course there isn’t. You’re talking to the air. To a ghost. No one had gotten inside the house. You’d checked more than enough times, just as you always did.

“I live here now,” you offer, thinking that, perhaps anger is not the best course of action. Neither is fear, though, if the scary movies you’d watched as a teenager had been any indication. “But I’ll leave, if you want me to.”

There’s no answer to that either.

You sigh, and deflate once more, trying to make yourself believe that there was a logical explanation to knives flying and playlists changing. Just as you’d made yourself believe that everything the “ghost” had done before was just a game, innocently played.

Perhaps, there was never a ghost at all. It could be that stress is driving you to insanity.

With a glass of wine in your hand, you finish up dinner, feeling like you are at your wit’s end. How is it that only a few weeks in this house has already singed your mind, turned you into a believer of things that you are not?

The portrait feels like an omen, staring at you with violet eyes, as you wonder where Fyodor is now. Does he watch you when your home, cooking, as you shower, a vicious gaze tracing over each curve of your body, with a sickening thought of all the things he wishes to do to you?

You shiver. It’ s been a while since anyone’s looked at you with a hint of desire. The feeling has become foreign, now, but you can still recall the gratification that comes with being wanted, how it makes you feel, if only for a moment, comfortable in your own skin.

That thought alone quickly snaps you out of your irrational behavior. Thinking of a ghost wanting you? A man that had been buried in the earth for so long that his body would be nothing more than bones?

This house was making you sick, you concluded, wrapping your leftovers up in plastic and tinfoil, placing them in the fridge. Your nervous friend was right – you never should’ve moved into this house, and you never should have stayed this long.

Your hands shook along the banister, heart racing around every corner. You expected that, maybe, you would see a dark-haired spirit there, his body translucent, but still corporeal. Though, there was no spirit hiding within the depths of the shadows, lurking in the places where he still belonged. No sounds startled you, caused you to jump as you brushed your teeth, completed the one last routine of your day.

The bed was colder than usual as you climbed into it, like a flush of a cold spot had settled within the sheets. You remembered what they said about temperatures and ghosts—how they changed, nothing able to survive in the places that they haunted, as they were not of this world, but something in between, something unnatural.

Your lamp flickers as you turn it on, and it’s just one more red flag you choose to ignore. In houses as old as this one, there are issues like that. The wiring is faulty, the electric needs to be monitored, a laundry list of items you will probably never resolve.

There are a thousand rational conclusions, though, and only one irrational one, which puts your mind at ease. Things like flickering lamps and cold spots can be explained simply, even if knives flying at your face cannot.

Still, you settle into bed, deciding that you will talk to the realtor again soon. You’ll move in with Sigma if he’ll have you. Anything to put your mind at ease for good.

That night, you dream of Fyodor, as if he is there right in the room with you, looming above you with those deep, violent eyes. His fingers, long and pale, trace across your cheekbones, as your eyes flutter open, consciousness coming back to you.

He says your name – it’s no surprise he knows it, after living with you for so long. It’s spoken softly, with a hint of possession behind it, like you belong to him. And yet, you’ve never said a word to him, even if all this time, he’s gotten to know you better than anyone else ever has.

You expect a scream to leave your throat, some hint of surprise, of fear, even, to see a stranger in your bedroom. To see him watching you with those familiar eyes, hair falling over his pale forehead as he gazes down at you from the edge of the bed.

No sound emerges.

Your mind feels a little fuzzy, hazy at the edges as you blink at him, closer to a state of intoxication, than you are alertness. Despite that awareness, you can’t seem to snap out of it; maybe you don’t want to. Instead, you sink deeper into the warmth, the honeyed feeling that comes with turning off your rationality. Everything feels as if it’s coming through in blurred, rosy glasses.

“Fyodor,” you mouth, instead of the scream that you’d anticipated, his name coming out in two wistful syllables.

You should hate him – there’s something in your instincts pushing back at you. A flash of a knife, the days of chaos and uncertainty, where you were sure you were losing your mind, come back at you.

But none of that seems to matter now, as you trace your finger across his cheek, feeling the sharp indent below the high bone. His eyelashes are a shade lighter than his hair, soft as they flutter over his forehead. The portrait of him didn’t do him justice… or perhaps, it is in death that he has found his purest form.

“I’m too tired.”

You’re not sure where those words even come from. Calm, like this is nothing but routine, and waking up with Fyodor beside you is the closest thing to normalcy.

He smiles at you, leaning over you again on the bed, lips pulled tightly together in a morbid grin. It does little to sour your mood, to scare you into action, even if you can’t quite understand why.

“I know,” he replies.

It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak, a deep, accented sound smoothing against your ears as he traces his gaze against each of your features; musical, almost. His voice calms you, lulls you back into a meditative state.

You reach for him, in a trance, and twirl a strand of his hair between your finger, just to see if he’d let you. After the hell you’d been through the past week, well – was it really that miserable? He seems content to watch over you, observe the gentle movements of his dark hair coiled up around your pointer finger.

“Why are you here?” you ask, your voice softer than a whisper, carried away by the wind until it never existed at all.

Fyodor never disappears from your line of sight, even when you try to blink, to close your eyes. He’s there, gazing at you with a lustful fondness, one that’s dangerous, perhaps even malicious. If it’s a dream, it sure feels like a vivid one.

“You wanted to leave,” he says, taking your finger away from his face, before bringing it to his lips. The kiss is barely there, and his mouth is cold, chapped, from the brutality of the afterlife. “I couldn’t let you do that.”

“Hm?” You try to sit up. It takes more effort than it should’ve – you’re so relaxed, so weak, that you fall back down, letting yourself sink into the plushness of the pillow. “Why?”

Fyodor releases your hand, before touching his own finger to your mouth. It’s slender, like a piece of ice, gently parting your lips before grazing your chin, hovering over your neck. Then, he drops his touch to your collarbone. He stakes a claim on every inch of your skin, pausing as he reaches your chest, still covered by the blankets.

Your clothing is thin – it wouldn’t take much effort to get his cool hands on your bare skin. But he refrains, still smiling before answering your question, tucking his hands together onto his lap. “It’s been so long.”

It doesn’t make sense, but you can’t muster up the effort to question him, not when he’s contemplating every word, like he’s hesitant to scare you away. You let him think, watch him ponder, as you stare, too exhausted to move a muscle.

“I thought you’d be like all the rest,” he says, taking a seat next to you on the bed, nearly touching your hip. “They were nothing but filth, stains in these halls. It’s a crime for them to ever think that they belonged here. In my home.”

You blink. “It’s my home, too,” you say, suddenly filled with an immense amount of dread. It crawls up your neck, chokes you, and nothing leaves you but garbled sounds, as you panic.

Fyodor doesn’t move – there is no twitch in his features, as he watches you with disguised adoration, a kind you didn’t think a ghost capable of revealing. “Of course it is, darling,” he says, so softly, it could’ve been mistaken for kindness. Fyodor leans down, presses his cold, dead lips to your cheek, a kiss of death. “That’s why I couldn’t let you leave. It’s your home. You belong here.”

“Right,” you breath, steadying yourself, before nodding. “My home.” Once more, you gaze around the room, your eyes flicking over every surface. Things are exactly as you’d left them, nothing out of place. “With you?”

The ghost smiles, and reaches out to you, finally helping you into a seated position. Your neck is so stiff, in pain, and you roll it around, feeling nothing there when you expect shifting bones. “With me,” Fyodor confirms, running his icy fingertips across your throat, tangling them with your hair.

He leans into you, pressing a lingering kiss to your mouth, one that catches you off balance, before you accept it with an eagerness that surprises you further. It doesn’t feel unfamiliar, instead, it’s as if you’re coming home, like the man you’ve never seen until now was always meant to find you.

A thought that should’ve scared you, even though it doesn’t.

Fyodor pulls away, right as you begin to shift forward, maneuver yourself onto his lap. “You should rest,” he replies, keeping you at a distance. “It might take some time to adjust.”

“Hm? What do you mean?” you blink, holding onto his wrist as your gaze shifts from his impossibly dark eyes to the mirror across the room.

There, in the darkness of the evening, shrouded in moonlight, you can see your reflection staring back at you, eyes vacant, lifeless. You expect to see yourself as nothing but exhausted, but when you draw your gaze across the image of yourself, there is blood seeping from your neck, a stream of scarlet. There is thick gash across your throat, slashed so deep that it would’ve killed you instantly.

The expression on your face shifts from one of calm to horror, as you scrape at your neck, trying to clear off the blood that isn’t really there, the permanent wound that will follow you even into your death.

“What did you do?” you scream, tears rolling down your cheeks, even though you can’t feel them, can only see them in the mirror. “What did you do to me?”

Fyodor smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. Though you fight against him, he takes you into his arms, and you are too weak to fight him off. “I told you,” Fyodor says, shushing you, running his palm over your head as you scream. “I couldn’t let you leave.”

thank you for reading !

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evilminji · 1 year ago

Text

You know... >.>

My Dad always used to tell me, if I get a Genuine Genie(tm)? Get a lawyer first. Before I make my Wishes(tm), so they can help me word them correctly.

Obviously, a human lawyer would not be foolproof... BUT! What about a Ghost Lawyer?

Like? Obviously Desiree would be PISSED. How DARE you twist HER wish twisting! Her THING is "what you believe is your heart's desire always comes at a terrible cost" which is what she DIED to learn.

So obviously she would NEVER, willingly, bend her Obsession for ANYONE. And you'd have to make a DAMN good case to that Lawyer for why he ISNT breaking the law by helping you. Probably some "you can: save the life of an unconscious person against their will/shove an unobservant person OFF the train tracks, even if they get hurt, to save their life" clause.

Like? Using a ghosts Obsession against them? Bad. Illegal.

Using it against their will, to save OTHER ghosts, who are in immediate danger? Not illegal, but they will be PISSED. Still not great though, you will want to apologize and fast.

So like??? Reality Bending Power. Patrick Star Method of "what if we MOVED the city... somewhere else?" Considered at 1am. Team of Ghost Laywers, acquired.

Amity and all Limnals are REMOVED from the DP-verse.

Wish worded juuuuust so. Any ghost that forms there? Yoink! Instantly removed to the Zone. Natural Portals? Cut off. Let the whole Reality fade out at an accelerated rate, as no NEW energy is fed into the system. Entropy will do, what entropy does. Exactly as they wished it.

They hated Death so much, they speed up the heat death of their ENTIRE universe by Eons. Congratulations, you guys "Won". Enjoy the wildly more fragile flora, fauna, and general ecosystems. Now that none of you have that ambient Ectoplasm strengthening your bodies. Yeah, the things you used to shrug off? Those are gonna maim or kill you now.

Doesn't MATTER if you "learn your lesson" though! Cause this is WAY past that point! This is "cutting off the tumor before it kills us" territory, and buddy? Amity ISNT the tumor. Go forth a grow, just like you wanted.

They won't be here to fix your messes anymore.

Because Danny got himself a dictionary thick "I Wish..." contract. Which was worded, as it needs to be, in one loooooooong run on sentence. Shouted "I Wish what's written on THIS, as it is currently, and without any form of editing or negotiation!" As fast as he could. Yote the document in Desiree's direction. And Flew like an INCANDESCENTLY pissed off Genie was trying to set his everything of fire.

Which she was.

Thankfully, Paulina came in clutch with her History of all things Jewelry, world fashions, and Make-Up knowledge. That, coupled with the Power Of Rich Friends(tm)? (Sam. Her mother was THRILLED to take her Jewelry and clothing shopping for something other then blacks and dark purple. They went on a jet setting whurl-wind tour. Sam actually kinda liked a some of what she found.)

They have Apology Bribes.

They shamelessly HIDE behind the mountain of Apology Bribes, while they explain themselves. Is Desiree HAPPY? No. But those bracelets are magnificent and she DOES deserve nice things. Those silks will really bring out her eyes. And she... DOES... admit...

Maybe...

That things are not... SAFE. Any longer. Danny TRIES. Everyone else can see it. And he's made incredible strides! Even convinced his lunatic parents. Though they're still not quite POPULAR. (WAY too pushy and invasive with their questions, for most people.) But the fanatics in white?

They nearly killed Box Lunch. If her father hadn't BEEN there...

And the poor man will have that scar on his back for the rest of his afterlife. Desiree can see why Danny is pushing. Does she LIKE it? No. But...

She supposes she will content herself with the suffering of the Fanatics in White and all who support them. THEIR wishes, twisted. Their ugly heart's desires.

Fine.

"SO YOU WISH IT. SO IT SHALL BE!"

And? The ghost town of what WOULD of one day grown into Amity, had the witch's there not been found by those they had fled from, which sits in long rotted ruins, amongst the trees in nowhere Illinois? Poof! Two "Towns" are switched.

The roads out of town coming to a clean line stop, meeting not even goat paths. Just trees. Old growth.

But it's not ALL of Town, is it? Faces missing. New, confused, faces from every corner of the map, taking their place. No Limnal left behind. No supporter of the GIWs genocide, brought along. Family's kept together where they could be. But by the few, scared and upset, green flashing eyes of children in the crowd?

It seemed for some, it was easier to fear and hate, then love their children.

Already they were being gathered up by school teachers and PTA parents. As everyone tried to figure out what had happened. Concerned, quite muttering a dull roar as everyone tries to coordinate.

Red Huntress joins Danny and Dani in the Sky. She doesn't get a word in. Wanted to know what the HELL was going on. She was with her dad in Chicago! Dani was in Taiwan! Literally! As in, sitting in a SUBWAY station one second, the next? Outside!

But they don't get to demand those answers. Because there is a sonic boom on the horizon. And then? Floating... weird... not ghosts?

Uuuuuuhhhh?

Hi?

That much blue... sure is a Statement. Like the cape and... bloooomers? Shorts. Bikini bottoms? It.. it's a Cool Look, dude! No, really. They are being VERY supportive here! If YOU like it? That's the only thing that matters!

Red Huntress smacks the Danny/i's Repeated upside their heads and demans to know what the Not-Ghosts are doing in their airspace.

Oh YEAH. Good point! What she said! And can it WAIT? They're kinda going through A Thing right now...

Kon? Wants it on record he loves these guys. They're hilarious. The LOOK on Clark's FACE?? He wishes he could frame it. Preserve it for future generations. Thing is? There was NOT a town here a second ago.

Well, bout 30 minutes or so, but you get the idea. One moment? Tree noises. Bam! Thousands of people! Obviously the checked it out. Only to be met with two... three maybe? Heros who have NO IDEA who they are.

Clear Reality warping shenanigans. Might be time travel or multiverse. Question is... are they STAYING? And if SO? What now...

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation @hypewinter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #minji's writing

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ayrtonswnna · 2 months ago

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hello there!

Can I request a Franco x reader? But where Ayrton Senna is alive in this universe and the reader is Senna? If not, then fine. It's up to you. Thanks in advance 😊😊

ʚɞ a/n: that is my moment!!!!!!!! i often imagine how would it be to have ayrton in contemporary scenarios it's unhealthy lol. i really think he'd be full of jokes and a fun guy just like he was off track. thanks for the request, it was a real nice one to write! (and if anyone has any senna request, i'll be more tham happy to take it! (i'm even willing to write stuff with senna himself))

ʚïɞ "you got me good" FC43

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more franco fluff!

✧₊⁺ franco colapinto x cecília senna (senna!female oc)

✧₊⁺ word count: 1,6k⠀⠀⠀⠀✧₊⁺, gender: crack, fluff.

✧₊⁺ summary: franco and cecília kept a secret relationship and when they decide to come clean, her father was ahead of it and he's a total menace.

✧₊⁺ warnings: alternative universe where that may 1th 1994 didn't happen and ayrton grew old like he deserved to, my hyper focus on that man shown in references, a bit of portuguese properly translated, kinda short and poorly contextualized, curse words, franco is a baby, just soft and light content for the win.

"What do you mean he doesn't know about it?"

Franco took a deep breath, massaging his own scalp as his friend and co-worker continued talking, a mix of excitement and judgment in his words.

"You are not making this any better," he mouthed.

"You are dating his daughter! You are da-ting. The man's daughter. Like... The man's daughter. The hell haven't you met her family!?"

"I am scared, okay!? If I get rejected by her family... It's not just my girlfriend's family. It's simply Senna himself! Should I what!? Drop the job? Hide in a cave?"

Alex laughed, the words and the tone easing the tension. The guy was worried to death and things might be simpler than he thought. Everyone knew Senna was a fun person.

Dating Cecília Senna felt almost like marrying into royalty. It's a good feeling, though. Bagging Cecília Senna could easily be added to one of Franco's big achievements — and he's a former F2 driver called in last minute to fill a Formula One seat — and he's doing great.

But still, it's Cecília Senna, the only child of a legend, someone he looked up to growing up, someone he saw in the paddock many times before ending up in his daughter's sheets.

"Hello, everyone!"

God, his heart might have dropped to the floor just now. The retired driver walked into the garage happily, with his daughter attached to his arm and waving familiarly.

Everyone gathered around them immediately, though Cecília's eyes instantly met Franco's. She knew he was scared and had made fun of him until she couldn't anymore, teasing him in every way she could.

"I've heard the news on the Argentinian! You guys are lucky you got away easily!"

Alright, it's time to pray. What news? That he's fucking his daughter? That they meet every week? That she wanted a Williams' box pass so badly just because of him? Or... That they hid it from everyone just to gain a bit more time?

"We got quality, mate! That's it." Vowels took his cue to fill in the blank, the people dispersing and going back to their work. "Found the kid sparring and made him a beast."

"Yeah, of course," the Brazilian laughed. "What's up, buddy! Feeling the pressure?"

Franco mentally cursed Cecília for raising her eyebrows and doubling the meaning of the question, but he managed to stand up and dry his sweaty hands on his pants.

"I try not to, honestly. Not... think about it a lot," he said, feeling he could have worded the sentence a bit better as they shook hands.

"That's the spirit! I heard a lot about you, little man. Do you know my daughter? Cecília?"

Tricky question. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tricky question.

If he had heard about it, then he knew about them. Franco could say "yes" and end up with a lecture, or say "no" and be caught in a lie.

"You guys think you are smart, huh? Fooling around, hiding from cameras..."

Oh, it's over. It's over for him. The "drop the job and hide in a cave" plan was almost running in his veins right now. Maybe he should Sebastian Vettel his way around, retire early, and move to a countryside home in Switzerland. Yes, that's a good plan.

"Pai... Para com isso." Cecília shoved her dad's side, rolling her eyes. (Dad... Stop that.)

"What? You guys thought you got away with it?"

"Pai! Ele tá ficando sem graça!" she insisted. (Dad! He's getting uncomfortable!)

Franco thought of speaking up, but the nerves were all up and maybe he should let it be.

"Yeah! He should!" Ayrton still had a serious look on his face, making Franco shiver.

"Pai, sério." (Dad, I'm serious.)

"Sir, I know it—"

"Come on, Franquinho! I'm fooling around, take that scared look off your face!" In a matter of seconds, Ayrton's grin turned into a playful smile, and his arm was hooked over Franco's shoulder, messing up his hair and leaving him even more confused. "Did I scare you? You should have seen your eyes!"

Franco laughed, still a bit dulled. That was a big one.

"You're a bastard," Cecília rolled her eyes once again, aware of the father she had.

The man was a natural jokester, full of little jokes and loved making uncomfortable scenarios in the name of fun. He was a handful.

"And you guys should have told me about this before! You lost it all, Franquinho. Angra, the travels... You need to be introduced to the family!"

He had heard about Angra; the beach house Cecília went to every now and then, how much she and her father loved the place. He even saw an old interview where Ayrton said that his retirement plans included being "Angra's nature inspector."

"Yeah- Yeah, sim." Franco risked some Portuguese, patting Ayrton on the back before they both stepped apart. "Sorry for... for taking too long to meet you, I was- Damn, you got me good."

"I could see!" Senna didn't waste a single laugh. "Don't worry, little boy. You're a good investment. And Cecília is pretty happy, so... you got my support."

"I'm even happier to hear it." Franco chuckled. "Thank you, very much. Your daughter also makes me really happy."

"Of course! Her bad jokes make everyone laugh." Ayrton kept the teasing going. "Now you better show me some racing! I've been in your place and to keep the daughter you need to be as good as dad!"

"You should have seen your face, baby!"

Franco glanced at his girlfriend as he turned his head, their first alone time since the morning's humiliation session.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he mouthed, shirt off and focus switching. "That was traumatizing."

"I told you he's a clown." Her shoulders went up a bit. "But he wasn't lying at the end! He likes you!"

"I got that part. Now I know where you got that dark humor from." The blue-eyed boy stood in the middle of his room, hands on his waist as he let his girlfriend use her eyes.

"What can I say? I am my father's daughter." She smiled mischievously. "He wants you to spend some time, though. Before Vegas, maybe?"

"I could've Max Verstappen my way around and have stayed for the week... But we waited until your dad could scare me to death in the middle of the box so... Yeah, it can be next week." He started simple, voice steady.

But then Cecília approached and her hands liked to touch. All over his torso while she traced a good way for his hair.

"You ain't seen nothing yet." The smile was still on her face, lips coming closer and closer to his. "But I am really happy, you know? Now we can just be and enjoy some time... I can take you to Angra, and I don't need to hide in your driver's room. I was done with pretending I was investing in Williams just so I had a reason to watch the races here."

"Told you about it... You could afford my seat."

Another joke. Ever since he got into F1 as an emergency call, she did say she only had to call her dad and his 2025 seat would be secured.

"You're gonna get it because you deserve it, I am not affording that." She flashed her eyelashes, rimming a single syllable as his hands also started to travel.

Inside her expensive shirt, up and down her back in good pressure before they found room at her waist.

"You know what else I deserve?"

"You freak! Go shower and I'll be waiting for you outside. My dad is around!"

It took them no time. Within weeks, Ayrton and Franco became partners in crime, and suddenly, Cecília was having a taste of her own medicine.

"Turn it off! Now!" Ayrton whispered in a screaming tone, the last signal Franco needed before turning off the power for the whole house.

Cecília had just come back from the beach and Franco finally knew the Angra house. It was dark, and the prank was not very well planned.

"Porra." (Shit.) they heard the Brazilian swearing. "Que inferno, de novo? PAAAAI?" (What the hell, again? DAAAAD?)

He knew some words in Portuguese and it only made it funnier. Him and his father-in-law were hiding in the small laundry room as Cecília searched for them.

"Ready, kid?"

"No, but I'll do it anyways."

"Good kid. You're a great one." The old man, as a new custom, messed with the Argentinian's hair, before opening the door and waiting for him to leave.

"Eu juro, se vocês estiverem armando pra cima de mim eu— Ah— FRANCO! NO!" (I swear, if you guys are planning something against me I—)

He's fast even with his limited knowledge about the furniture in the house, walking in the dark before he could lift her and throw her over his shoulder.

It's the fourth time she's thrown in the pool and she just knows it's her father opening the glass door for the exterior area before she's sinking in cold water.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ALL!" Cecília screamed. "I JUST WASHED MY HAIR! OH MY GOD! PUTTING YOU TWO TOGETHER WAS THE WORST THING I EVER DID!"

"Não reclama, princesinha..." (Don't you complain, little princess...) her father played, now standing besides her boyfriend. "Bate aqui, you passed the test. Welcome to the family." (High five,)

"I hate you guys. Eu odeio vocês, los odio. Whatever. Don't ever talk to me again." Cecília stomped her way out of the pool, walking straight past them.

"Don't get mad, baby... It's just a joke!"

"Well, boy... It's your girlfriend. Go ease her nerves. You're called Colapinto for a reason."

ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024. check my masterlist or drop a request (: reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:

#lele writes ʚɞ #formula 1 #f1 #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula one #imagine #formula one fluff #formula one fluff imagine #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x oc #franco colapinto x reader #senna!oc #franco colapinto x senna!daughter #senna!reader #ayrton senna #williams racing

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fuctacles · 1 month ago

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a boy worth fighting getting trampled for

"trampled" for @corrodedcoffinfest BF event | T | 856 | Corroded King (implied and open for interpretation) | no cw | Black Friday, banter, open relationship, polycule-ish, appreciating Steve Harrington moment, canon-ish universe | Ao3

"Was it worth it?"

"Yes!" Gareth and Jeff nod in unison.

"No," whines Eddie, thumbing at the rip in his beloved t-shirt.

"Eh..." Doug makes a so-so motion with his palm.

Steve sighs. When they asked him for extra muscle on Black Friday, he should have expected an outcome like this. The whole band is brandishing various injuries from being trampled by other shoppers, the worst of which was Gareth's allegedly sprained ankle. He wasn't fussing about it only because a. his mother was a nurse and would look at it as soon as she was back, and b. he kind of deserved it.

"Well, show me the loot, then," Steve says with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms. The only thing he's seen so far was a shiny new amp he had the misfortune of carrying from the store to his car.

Eddie digs through his pockets to brandish about half a dozen tapes, none with a cover Steve would recognize. He seems proud of his haul but sours under the unimpressed stare he gets.

"I got a few vinyls for my folks," Doug shows off his findings, and Eddie scoffs loudly when he gets an approving smile from Steve.

"That's nice," he says.

Gareth redeems himself by showing a gift for his sister, while Jeff bought probably two dozen string packs for his guitar.

"Okay, these aren't actually as stupid as I thought," Steve admits reluctantly, sitting on a stack of tires. "Except for you," he points at Eddie. "You have a shitload of tapes already."

Eddie huffs, now him being the one to cross his arms.

"Sorry, we're not showing what we got for you."

The rest of the guys start shushing him immediately, Jeff even going as far as throwing a string pack at his head. Eddie maturely flips them the bird.

"You got me stuff?" Steve asks in surprise.

"Duh," Gareth scoffs, and Jeff flicks him in the ear for it. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"Be nice, idiot," Jeff chastises him.

With a roll of his eyes, Gareth turns to Steve.

"You're basically a part of the band, we figured it would be nice," he shrugs.

"But I'm not—"

Doug interrupts him before he can go further with his usual protests.

"You do a lot of the heavy lifting, you co-wrote two songs, and consistently charm venue managers into giving us gigs," he lists off on his fingers. "You're basically like Corroded Coffin's manager, so shut up."

"Yeah, you also give the best blowjobs," Eddie grins, because he loves to ruin a moment, and immediately shields his head from any missiles Jeff might throw his way. But the guy only hums in agreement.

"That's true," he nods, making Steve flush pink.

"Well, uh... thanks, I guess," he smiles, a little taken aback. "Waiting til Christmas might kill me, though," he admits with a chuckle. He's always been that kid who looked through all the nooks and crannies of the house to find the gifts early, too curious to sit around and wait.

The band exchanges thoughtful looks among themselves; they nod and they shrug.

"I guess you can pick one," Jeff decides for all of them.

Steve's eyes widen.

"You all got me something?!"

"We couldn't agree on one thing," Doug sighs like it's a topic of a tiring debate. Which, knowing them, might have been.

Steve hums thoughtfully, looking over each of the boys as if his mind wasn't already made. He points his finger, feeling childishly powerful.

"Eddie. You gotta redeem yourself, man."

Eddie rolls his eyes but doesn't protest. He bends over the back of the couch to reach for his backpack, and Doug immediately grabs onto his back pocket with a sigh, so he doesn't topple over and add to his injuries. Once Eddie falls back on the cushions with a huff and fixes his hair, he pulls out a familiar packaging.

Steve looks unimpressed.

"If this is your way of redeeming yourself—"

But after brandishing a can of Farrah Fawcett hair spray, Eddie keeps pulling out more hair products, shampoos, and conditioners that are always sold out whenever Steve tries looking for them.

"Okay, fine. Consider yourself redeemed," he says reluctantly, and Eddie beams at him. He stands up to walk up to him and kisses him softly on the lips before squeezing in to sit between him and Doug.

"See? Every time!" Gareth throws a hand towards them "He weasels himself out of anything!"

"It's the dimples, I'm telling you." Jeff shakes his head in disappointment.

Steve, his arm already slung over Eddie, motions for Gareth.

"Well, come over and I'll kiss you too. What? You sprained your ankle and can't walk? Aw, what a shame."

Gareth hisses at him and shows him the finger, which Steve mirrors while making kissy faces. Eddie just preens under his embrace, content like the cat that got the cream.

"Next year just please plan it better. Wear protective gear and stock the fucking first aid kit."

"You wear a fucking—"

Gareth is interrupted by Jeff's arm putting him into a headlock.

"We will," he agrees for him.

regulars: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94

#corroded king #corroded coffin #corroded coffin fest #mine #jeff stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #gareth stranger things #gareth emerson #freak stranger things #cj x corrodedcoffinfest

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 4 months ago

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Feelings and Faults (Wolverine)

Description: Logan loves Y/N but she’s too caught up on the past.

Word Count: 1,020

Requests: Hi I was just wondering if you could write wolverine x reader smut where he is in love/obsessed with her and she has feelings for him but doesn’t acknowledge it because she doesn’t think she deserves to be loved which could be down to past trauma (it’s up to you) but then they confess their feelings inspired by the scene in the Honda Odyssey just without deadpool please it’s okay if not

Author’s note: I didn’t see the smut part until I went to post so that’s not part of the story. But I hope you like it!

She sat in the Honda Odyssey with a drink in her hand. She never really was one for drinking but times like these it was needed. Everyone was either inside planning the attack on Nova or by the fire drinking. She was in the car, alone in thought. Not realizing that she had someone that could never look away from her.

Someone that loved her and wanted to be with her even though she had fault in that. After losing Erik she never felt like she could be loved again or deserved it. But Logan adored her and wanted her forever. In his universe Y/N and Magneto were the happy couple that he let get killed. He always adored her but could never have her.

Now, she didn’t have Magneto in her life anymore and he wanted to be the one to fill the void. He could tell that she beat herself up over it and the blame was on her. Whatever happened between them, he would never believe that she was fully the one to blame. She deserved love and happiness, even if she couldn’t see it.

After his talk with Laura he walked over to the car that he knew she was in and got in the driver side. She looked over at him and saw a bottle of whiskey in his hand and smirked. He was definitely one for drinking. But she couldn’t blame him. “How did I know that you were in here?” He asked and she shrugged. “Despite what Wade says, I think the Honda Odyssey fucks hard.” She said and that made him chuckle.

Wade hated this car but Y/N liked it. “I also didn’t take you for drinking.” She smiled at him and held up the drink, “Cheers to that. I never was a drinker but after things go south it’s nice to have one.” He watched as she chugged the rest of her drink and held out her cup to fill it up. He gladly poured her another glass. “So about the fight earlier-” “Don’t mention it. He’s fine.” “I’m talking about you. Us.” She looked over at him, “What’s there to talk about? You’re right. I beat myself up over a guy that probably never gave a shit about me.” He felt guilt for saying that to her. “In my universe, you guys were married. Had kids even. You two were in love.” She rolled her eyes, “And let me guess we died?” He nodded and cleared his throat, “Yeah. It was awful. I constantly think back to that night and it haunts me.” “It was probably meant to be.” He looked at her, “What do you mean?” “I’m not meant to be happy in any universe.” He wanted to roll his eyes at her and her stupidity but he kept going, “No. That’s me. You sit here and act like nobody loves you and you’re alone but that is fair from the truth.” She looked at him as he finished off the bottle.

“Y/N, In my universe I was in love with you. I wanted you so bad but Erik beat me to it.” Her eyes widened in shock. His words repeating in her head. “The first second I met you I felt it all come back. Only this time Erik isn’t in the way. It’s you.” She chugged her drink before she could get out the words, “What?” It wasn’t a question of her asking him to repeat what he said or that she couldn’t hear him. She simply could not believe the words that left his mouth.

“Don’t act like nobody loves you and doesn’t care about you. I do! And I always will.” She stared at him with wide eyes. Sure, she had some feelings for him but she beat herself up after what happened with Erik. “You’re drunk.” She stated and he laughed. “Unbelievable. I pour my heart out to you and you tell me I’m drunk?” She didn’t know what to say to him at this time. “Y/N, Erik was a fucking idiot for not loving you and trying with you. You’re amazing and beautiful and only a dumb fuck like him wouldn’t see that.” Her eyes filled with tears, “You can’t mean that.” She whispers and he sighs, “Well I do. And if Wade wasn’t there earlier than maybe this would have come out sooner.” She turned away from him and sighed.

This couldn’t be real. There was no way he was telling the truth. Was he? She looked up at the top of the car, “The Magneto that Cassandra killed, that was mine.” He turned to look at her, “The TVA had got him before I could save him. I feel like the biggest fuck up about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t love me or wanted to be with me. It was never known but we had something special.

That’s why I was so nervous about coming here. I was so scared that he wouldn’t want anything to do with me and hated me but he’s dead. That’s worse than him hating me.” She was pouring her heart out to him. “I want to believe you, Logan. But I don’t know. After seeing you and you helping us I realized that maybe Erik wasn’t the one for me and that I could have another chance at happiness.”

“You can. I’m right here.” She turned to look at him to find that he was already looking at her. Maybe it was the heat of the moment but she really wanted to kiss him. As if he was Charles Xavier and could read her mind, he leaned in and kissed her. She kissed back and maybe it was the drink or the kiss but she felt herself calm down and realize that this was meant to be. “Erik wasn’t your fault sweetheart. You are not at fault for that. You deserve love and all the happy things in love.” She felt herself smile at his words. “Thank you, Logan.” she whispered and he smiled. “No problem, sweetheart.” He said before they locked lips again.

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thewritingrowlet · 7 months ago

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The Outing Trip pt. 1, ft. tripleS Xinyu

tags: daddy kink, anal teasing, creampie, praise kink (just a bit), rough

tw: violence (OC takes a punch in the face, nothing crazy I promise)

word count: 12k+

author's note: this is the first part of a small series (4 parts max.) inspired by an anon's idea of a university outing trip (minus the "stranded in an island due to a storm with a bunch of girls" part) featuring a handful of tripleS members. This part also mentions Yooyeon, Nakyoung, Dahyun, and Chaeyeon as I consider them to be candidates to be featured in future parts.

p.s. after I finish writing part 2 of this series, I'm gonna stop writing about tripleS members for one or two fics. Let me know if you think there's anyone (who is over the age of 18 in May 2024) that needs attention (be it bcs they're from a less-popular group, or bcs they only debuted recently and you're a fan, etc).

It is now September. The hot summer days are starting to go and be replaced by the chiller and refreshing days of shorter daylight that autumn usually has in its bag. September is also the month where every single student organization in the university goes on outings to welcome their new members. That includes the student council that you’re the president of. You’re having a meeting with a bunch of council staffs and governors—the term your university uses to refer to council leaders on the faculty level because the university wants to replicate real-world governmental structure—in about 10 minutes to talk about details about the outing itself. Everyone will be wearing their uniform, which is a sight you find to be cute.

“President-oppa!”, you hear a girl’s voice behind you as you’re walking to the meeting place, so you turn around to see who it is. You see Xinyu, the council’s vice president who also happens to be your lovely girlfriend, walking like a supermodel towards you. “Hey, princess”, you greet her before taking her hand and pecking it. Xinyu loves it when you do those two things (call her “princess” and kiss her hand), blushing every time she sees you do it. You, on the other hand, don’t really care if her fondness of praises is a sign of narcissism because no one can tell you she doesn't deserve such treatment. You also don’t really care about displaying affection in public—why wouldn’t you want to show affection to your perfect-in-every-aspect girlfriend all the time? It also serves as an announcement that both you and Xinyu are off-limits since the relationship is not a secret.

“O-oppa”, she looks down at her shoes to hide the red hue on her cheeks, “you always do these sweet things to me”. You wrap an arm around her waist, “because you deserve it, sweetie”. She twiddles her index fingers in shyness, “but my heart can only take so much of it in a day, oppa”. “Skill issue, baby”, you chuckle—how adorable is it that you’ve been dating her for over a year and living together in an apartment for almost as long and she still gets overwhelmed with your sweet gestures and words?

“Xinyu-yah”, you throw a lifebuoy to save her from drowning in her own thoughts, “we need to get to get there fast, baby; there’s only a few minutes left and we’re the last people who get to be late”. You take her hand and start running, making Xinyu yell in surprise and possibly turn some people’s heads. You stop running when you’re in front of the elevator and press the button to go up. It’s nice that the elevator doesn’t have a CCTV in it, because you can share a bit of intimacy with Xinyu by pecking her on the lips and forcing a blush once again—her poor heart is guaranteed to give out by the end of the day. “Oppa, I really can’t take much of this anymore”, Xinyu complains. “Of course you can, what are you talking about?”, you laugh. You and Xinyu need to put on a serious face soon, though, as the elevator doors are opening, and you’ll be met with people outside.

“I thought you two were going to be late, not gonna lie”, Nakyoung, Xinyu’s best friend and fellow council member, greets you at the doors of the auditorium. “Do you really think that low of us, Nakyoung-ah?”, Xinyu protests. Nakyoung laughs, “not really, no—just thought maybe you ran off on a date or something”. Xinyu pinches Nakyoung’s cheeks in annoyance, making a small scene in front of a bunch of council members. You shake your head in amusement, “alright, that’s enough, kids. Is everyone here, Nakyoung-ah?”. “Almost; the Faculty of Medicine’s governor will be late. She’s still assisting in a lab and said you can start without her”, Nakyoung explains before taking you and Xinyu’s hands and pulling the both of you into the auditorium. You look at the clock hanging on the wall and see that you’re perfectly on time—perfectly calculated, if you say so yourself.

“Good afternoon, governors. Thank you for taking the time for today’s little meeting”, you take the center spot on the stage. You sometimes wonder why you talk and act like this in front of fellow students but since the university wants this to be as authentic of an experience as possible, you can’t help but play along. “This is September, and you guys know what it means: we need to welcome the new members of our councils on both the university and faculty level. Would someone kindly kick us off and report their preparation progress?”, you see the Faculty of Science’s governor, Kim Yooyeon, raise her hand so you step to the side and let her take your spot on the stage.

She starts presenting the things she and her members have done to prepare, such as consulting with the dean, surveying the area she wants to go to, and calculating the cost of the entire thing. You admire her thoroughness and ability to think ahead—the girl students call the goddess isn’t just known for her looks, but also sharpness of mind. Just one thing, though: she doesn’t like attention, as shown by the way she jogs back to her seat while partially covering her face after she��s done talking. “Thank you, Yooyeon-ah—oh, hello, Jiwoo-yah!”, you greet Son Jiwoo, the aforementioned governor from the Faculty of Medicine who just entered the room. “Hi, hello”, she rushes to her seat, “sorry for being late, I was needed in the lab”. “No, you’re fine, sweetie. Let’s continue, though”, your over-friendliness spills out and Xinyu glares at you from her seat, but you miss it since you don’t have eyes on the back of your head.

One governor after the other takes turns to present their plans; some have come up with elaborate plans, while others have simpler ideas as to how to welcome their new members. Once everyone is done presenting their plans, you wrap up the meeting (not without expressing appreciation to everyone) and let them go so that they can go about the rest of their day. Yooyeon stays behind, probably because she has some things to discuss with the three of you. “Hey, guys”, she approaches slowly, “I want to talk about something, but can we get out of here first? This auditorium keeps reminding me of some of my hardest days”. “Yeah, sure. Lead the way, unnie”, Nakyoung says before suggesting another idea, “are you guys free, by the way? We can talk over some food if you are—oppa will pay since he’s the richest among us”.

Nakyoung and Yooyeon walk side-by-side while holding hands, while you and Xinyu walk behind them with your hands intertwined. Xinyu then slows down her steps, creating a decent gap between Nakyoung and Yooyeon. “Oppa”, she tugs your hand, a hint of sadness in her voice, “you.. you’re not interested in Jiwoo-unnie, are you?”. Her question catches you off guard, “Jiwoo-unnie? Son Jiwoo? No, of course not. Why?”. “You, um, were a little too friendly with her earlier—I mean, she is pretty, so I understand”, she sulks. You try to recount what happened during the meeting, and you realize that you called her “sweetie”—that pet name is supposed to be reserved for Xinyu only. You instantly feel a huge wave of guilt at the realization, “I’m so sorry, baby. I promise you it was nothing but a slip up”. She lets go of your hand and hugs the clipboard she’s holding with both arms, “please don’t do that again. I-I didn’t like it”, she says.

She refuses to hold your hand for the rest of the walk, and that’s a hint the size of a mountain that you’ve fucked up and you’ll need to make it up to your princess. You finally arrive at the student-favorite noodle spot after a few minutes of walking. It’s not too packed since most students are in class, considering what time it is. Nakyoung joins your group after ordering for everyone. Yooyeon sits across Nakyoung, so that leaves Xinyu no option but to sit across you. Only when she sits down can you see her teary eyes, “you fucked up and now you’re in trouble, son”, your heart says. “Okay, unnie, we’re here. So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”, Nakyoung says. Yooyeon scratches the back of her head, “oh, um, I actually just wanted to hang out with you guys. You seem to be a fun trio to be around”. You chuckle, “yeah, that’s fine, we were getting food regardless. Welcome to the fold, I guess”. You arrange your words more carefully this time because you don’t want to fuck things up even further.

You’re now standing at the bus stop after the meal, still surrounded by your friends. “So, what now?”, you ask. Nakyoung, oblivious to your situation with Xinyu, throws her idea into the ring, “let’s go to your place, oppa. I really wanna lay down on that gloriously soft and fluffy sofa of yours”. You glance at Xinyu, who doesn’t seem to hate the idea, and nod in agreement to the idea, “yeah, we can do that. What about you, Yooyeon-ah? You have other classes after this?”. “N-no, ca-can I join you again? I-I don’t have many friends, you see”, Yooyeon hides her face behind her hands after saying that—you never knew a goddess could be so shy around people and have so few friends, but here you are. “Alright, let’s get on that bus so that we don’t have to walk to the parking lot”, you point to the approaching yellow campus bus—the off-site parking lot is not too far but you just can’t be assed to walk at the moment.

Doesn’t take long for the bus to arrive and take the four of you to the parking lot. You lead them to your car and Yooyeon makes a comment when she sees it, “nice car, Jisung-ah”. “I’m telling you, Jisung-oppa is rich, unnie. Daddy and mommy’s money, right, oppa?”, Nakyoung chimes in to tease you—this mischievous cat never runs out of ideas to tease her friends. “Well, when you put it like that”, you say. You’re never one to brag about your wealth, so you simply thank Yooyeon for the compliment and unlock the car so that your friends can get in. Xinyu gets in the front passenger seat like usual while the other two sit in the middle row.

You’re now out of the parking lot and on the way back to your apartment. “I need to stop at a convenience store, sorry. I need to buy something”, you say to your friends. “I bet he’s buying condoms”, Nakyoung chirps. Xinyu is probably not too entertained with what Nakyoung is suggesting, but they tease each other like that all the time. “I promise you I’m not”, you say as you pull into the driveway of the convenience store. “You guys do it raw, Xinyu-yah?”, Nakyoung lets out a fake surprise gasp at the end. “Kim Nakyoung, I promise I will throw you out the window of our apartment if you keep teasing me”, Xinyu says. “Look at them, unnie; they live together and have unprotected sex all the time”, Nakyoung turns to Yooyeon, who hides her face behind her palms again. You roll your eyes and get out of the car—you just want to get Xinyu’s favorite chocolate and snacks, it is not supposed to be this difficult, ever.

You finally arrive at your building after a short drive from the university. You hop off the car and walk in front, and would you look at that: Xinyu is wrapping a hand around your arm and leaning her head against your shoulder; “glad you’re feeling better, baby. I’m so sorry for being an ass”, you whisper to her. “I can’t stay mad at you for long, oppa, you know this”, Xinyu whispers back. Nakyoung is used to seeing your public display of affection, but Yooyeon, who is hanging out with your bunch for the first time, is not; she’s probably looking away so that she doesn't have to see this. You walk to the elevator and continue to your unit followed by the three girls, until you finally arrive at the door. Xinyu does the honors and unlocks the door before running into the bedroom. “Welcome to our little apartment, girls. Please make yourself at home”, you stand to the side and let them in. Nakyoung, as she has promised earlier, runs straight to your sofa and lies down on it, “Little apartment, my ass—oh my God, it’s so comfortable; this thing must be mad expensive. Unnie, come here, what are you doing?”, she invites Yooyeon who’s standing awkwardly in the doorway. “You can go with her, Yooyeon-ah. Please, make yourself comfortable”, you encourage her.

You then make your way to the bedroom to follow Xinyu and close the door behind you, you see that she has ditched her shirt for a white sleeveless tee that fits her perfect body like a bespoke glove. “I know you bought me snacks. Show me where they are or I will, I will—what’s a good one—not kiss you for the rest of the day”, she knows she can’t threaten you to save her life, so she must improvise to make herself sound scary. You chuckle and fish a bar of chocolate and a bunch of chips out of the bag, “for you, princess”. “Oh my God, chocolate too?! Thank you, oppa, you’re the best!”, she happily accepts your tribute and rips open a bag of chips. You peck the girl who’s munching so enthusiastically on the forehead, “anything for you, love. My world is dark without you”. Xinyu blushes at your words, “I can say the same about you, oppa. You know that right?”. You open your mouth to answer her, but that’s when you hear a knock on the door. “Oppa, Xinyu-yah, are you guys done having sex? Yooyeon-unnie wants to talk”, Nakyoung says from the other side of the door.

Xinyu rushes out of the bedroom and flicks Nakyoung’s forehead, “we were not having sex, God damn it!”. You follow Xinyu out of the bedroom and head to the dining table, “play nice, girls. Come, we can talk here”, you call out to your friends. Yooyeon joins you on the table, followed by Xinyu and Nakyoung who have broken their little scuffle. “Before we start”, you poke Xinyu on the shoulder, “order some pizza for us, sweetie. We can get your favorite”. Xinyu runs back to the bedroom to get her phone and order her favorite pizza—food is truly the bullet train to her heart (and pants but we’ll save that for later). She high-steps her way to the table to join you, seemingly excited at the prospect of having her favorite pizza. She stops next to you and pecks you on the cheek, “I love you”, she says. “I love you more, sweetie. Sit, please”, you pull a chair for her. Nakyoung sighs, “I know you just joined us, unnie, but I guarantee that you’ll get tired of seeing these two act like this very soon”. “Oh, uh, I personally find it cute, actually. I’m happy for them; I hope I can experience that myself one day”, Yooyeon confesses before looking away.

“It’s nothing crazy, really”, Yooyeon starts, “I was just curious about your council’s plans to welcome the new members of your own. I-I was thinking maybe I discuss it if that’s okay with you guys”. Xinyu gets excited hearing those words, “of course, unnie. We would love that”. “Can you tell me a summary first?”, Yooyeon says. You tell her how you and Xinyu plan to do a 3-day trip to the nearby island that also happens to be a famous tourism destination. Nakyoung helps explain the schedule and agendas that she and another council member have come up with. Lastly, Xinyu explains other details such as logistics, methods of transportation, and accommodation; “we are prohibiting alcohol for this trip, by the way. The last thing we need is some drunk freshmen fucking things up”, she adds. “How do you plan to do that, exactly?”, Yooyeon inquires. “Well, I called the manager of the accomodation and specifically and precisely asked them to not sell anyone from our group alcohol and to notify ask should someone try”, Xinyu explains.

Yooyeon gets up from her seat and asks for your permission to get water, so you tell her to get some from the dispenser in the kitchen. She then gets back in her seat and starts talking again. “So, president, vice president, and—what are you again?”, Yooyeon turns to Nakyoung, who lets out a frustrated grunt, “Oh, God damn it—I’m the secretary and the third wheel to the president and vice president. Remember that, please”. “Right, sorry”, Yooyeon clears her throat, “The reason I wanted to talk to you guys is because I have some potential candidates that might be able to join you guys in the council at the university level”. “Okay, go on”, you encourage her to keep talking. “They initially wanted to join us at the faculty, but we couldn’t accept them simply because we were full. I was thinking that maybe these two can thrive under your flag instead”. “Names, unnie?”, Nakyoung asks as she pulls out her phone to write their names. “Seo Dahyun, born in ‘03, and Kim Chaeyeon, born in ‘04”, Yooyeon says, “Dahyun had to retake the SAT for the second time; that’s why it took her a bit longer to get here, but that fact doesn’t take anything away from her, I assure you”.

Yooyeon obviously knows these people better than anyone in the room, since she knows them and has interviewed them personally, so the three of you decide to trust her perception of them. Xinyu arranges an interview for each of them tomorrow at noon—no precise time yet since you’ll need to confirm their schedules with each of them. Yooyeon gives Nakyoung their numbers and she starts hitting them up on CocoaSpeak. “One more thing, Jisung-ah”, she looks at you, “I want to be in the room where it happens”. “Sure, you can be there with us for the interview”, you say to her. “Won’t that be too intimidating?”, Xinyu utters her concern. Yooyeon shakes her head in disagreement, “these two don’t get intimidated easily, they’ll be fine”.

You hear a buzz from the door, so you ask Xinyu to get the pizza from the delivery guy. You make sure to pay attention to the exchange because Xinyu has had a bad experience with a degenerate delivery guy who thought that she was attractive and decided to take his 1-in-a-billion chance. You understand that you can take the pizza yourself but letting her do it helps Xinyu overcome her trauma as she knows that you have her back. Xinyu slams the door a bit too roughly and runs back towards the dining table. “I present to you, the Zhou Xinyu Special!”, she opens the box and puts it down on the table. Yooyeon keeps staring at the large pizza on the table in confusion, until Nakyoung notices and pokes her in the arm to get her attention, “it’s a pizza with ground beef, pepperoni, mushroom, and extra cheese, unnie—they use a lot of cheese, hence the pie-like visual”. “Ah, I see”, Yooyeon nods after hearing the explanation.

You take a slice from the box and start eating, followed by the three girls. “I’ve eaten this pizza so often, but it still amazes me every time. You really know your way around food, don’t you, Xinyu-yah?”, Nakyoung remarks. “Of course, food is the second thing I love the most in this world after oppa”, Xinyu says before exclaiming at the taste of her favorite pizza. “I love you too”, you wipe your mouth with a napkin before pecking Xinyu on the cheek. Xinyu blushes after hearing your words and receiving a peck, as she tries to hide her face behind the slice of pizza in her hand. “You two are so cute”, Yooyeon comments, not helping Xinyu overcome the heat on her cheeks.

The four of you start talking about a bunch of topics, from how Yooyeon initially wanted to join the university’s council but got rejected, how Nakyoung met Yooyeon for the first time and thought that she was a cold and scary person, and, at Yooyeon’s request, how you and Xinyu started dating. You explain that you had known Xinyu for a while as a fellow member of the council during freshman year but only admired her from afar. The two of you were then placed in the same group for a community service project the president at the time had come up with. “Xinyu was crying alone after the first day because of how exhausting and hard it was, so I mustered up the courage to approach her and offered to take her to dinner because I always hate seeing a girl cry, no matter what reason she might have. I actually was so scared that she would push me away instead of taking my offer”, you explain to the small crowd in front of you. It’s now Xinyu’s time to tell her side of the story; “I saw how kind oppa really is behind his rich guy façade; he was super helpful and attentive to everyone that day and there was no way I would’ve pushed him away—I wanted him for myself”. Xinyu leans against your shoulder before continuing her speech, “After our first time having sex, he revealed that I was his first and all I could think about was how I hoped he had been my first as well—I’m so sorry, oppa”. You squeeze her hand, “there’s nothing to be sorry for, love. You’re here with me now”.

Everyone has dispersed from the dining table and is now in their own worlds. Yooyeon is looking at notes on her tablet, Nakyoung is lying on the sofa with her eyes closed, Xinyu is chilling in the bedroom, and you’re sitting on the toilet with your phone in hand. You’re mindlessly scrolling through social media until you see a notification from Xinyu. It’s a picture of her lying in bed in her pajamas with one of the dolls you bought for her. “How cute”, you think to yourself. She sees that you’re not replying to her, so she expresses her unhappiness, “>: say something already”. “I’m busy, bby”, you reply to her before flushing the toilet and cleaning your ass. You’re on your way to the bathroom door as it swings open seemingly on its own. Xinyu barges into the bathroom and locks the door behind her. She puts her hands on your chest and pushes you to the wall, “if you won’t give me the attention I want, I’ll get it myself”. She pulls your shorts and boxers down together as she kneels in front of you, making your cock spring out of its restraints instantly.

“We could’ve done so much more had you given me the attention I wanted”, she’s doing her best to instill regret and guilt in your heart. Her hand is wrapped around your cock tightly and you don’t want to make her mad even more because you don’t want her to break your cock. “P-princess, they’re still here. We can do this later”, you persuade her. “I don’t care, they can go suck cock if they want”, she says before taking you in her mouth. The wetness and warmth of Xinyu’s mouth sends shivers down your spine. You dare hold her hair in your hand as she bobs her head up and down your shaft while gagging every now and then. “P-princess”, you mutter before moaning, “you’re so good, baby”. She instantly removes you from her mouth and squeezes your cock, “stay quiet if you want to make it out of this alive”. “Oh, fuck—I’m-I’m sorry, please don’t break my penis”, you say to the angry-but-horny girl kneeling in front of you.

She accepts your apology for now and gets back to stuffing her face with your cock. You don’t want to upset her considering how vulnerable you are at the moment, so you do nothing but moan. She removes your cock from her mouth once again when she feels it twitch in her mouth, “I’ll let you cum if you ask nicely”. You take a deep breath before ‘asking nicely’, “please let me cum, princess”. “Not good enough, but I’ll take it for now”, she says before letting you in her mouth once again. It doesn’t take long until your cum is accumulated on the tip of your cock. Xinyu knows this, so she goes deeper until she reaches the base of your cock. “I’m cum-ming”, you say with heavy breaths, “princess, please”. Your cock blows a load as soon as you say that, and Xinyu tries her best to not let a drop leak out of her mouth.

You lean back against the wall to catch your breath, feeling drained—quite literally—by Xinyu’s little stunt. You look down at Xinyu who is still on her knees, and you see her gulp down your load into her stomach. “Xinyu, baby”, you say with heavy pants, “thank you, that was really good”. “Of course, oppa. I love you—I’ll drain your soul the next time you ignore me, though”, she rises to her feet and wipes her mouth before pecking your cheek. “Now how do we get out of this place?”, you ask her for ideas. “Just walk out, we’re adults”, she shrugs. You do as she suggested and walk out of the bathroom as casually as possible. Yooyeon sees the two of you walking out together and covers her face with some papers. You see Xinyu give her a wink and gesture to her to stay quiet.

Xinyu then walks to the sofa and poke Nakyoung in the arm, “Naky-yah, are you staying the night or what?”. Nakyoung wakes up slowly from her peaceful nap on your sofa, “hngh, what time is it?”. You look at the clock above the TV, “about 7.30 pm”, you tell the sleepy cat. Nakyoung rises and walks to the fridge like a zombie, “I’m tempted to stay but I imagine you two want some private time”, she says. You can tell that her playfulness hasn’t returned to her entirely, as shown by how she hasn’t bantered or teased anyone yet. She takes a few gulps of fridge-cold water out of her bottle—she visits your apartment a lot so a few months ago she decided to leave a bottle in your fridge so that she wouldn’t drink from one of yours—and turns to you, “did you guys have fun when I was asleep?”. Xinyu answers her right away with confidence, “I did—I don’t know about oppa, though”, she says, hinting at sex. Nakyoung smirks as she walks back to the sofa, “if you had fun, then so did oppa, most likely”.

Nakyoung spends another 30 minutes lying on your sofa while on her phone, while Yooyeon is still busy with studying. “Unnie, I think we should leave soon”, she says to the studying goddess as she gets up. “Hm? Oh, yeah, sure”, Yooyeon says as she starts tidying up her papers and tablet. Nakyoung takes Yooyeon’s hand and walks to the door with her. “Thank you for the hospitality, you two”, Yooyeon bows slightly and waves at you and Xinyu. “You should hang out with us more, Yooyeon-ah. See you at the interview— byeee”, you say as they exit the door and close it behind them.

Seeing that the coast is now clear, Xinyu runs to you and jumps at you, so you catch her with both arms. “I’m tired, oppa. Take me to bed, please”, she says with a cute whiny voice. You peck her temple and carry her to the bed as requested. You set Xinyu on the bed with you on top of her body, and she immediately wraps her long limbs around your body. “Stay, please”, she says, acting cute to convince you to do what she wants, “I can feel you poking me down there, by the way”. It’s not that you’re horny, it’s just that you’re long—almost too long, “I’m sorry, sweetie”. “I’m horny and tired at the same time, which one do I choose, oppa?”, she pinches your cheek playfully. “I suggest sleeping, love. I don’t know if I have another load for you and I would hate to disappoint”, you kiss her forehead apologetically. “Hmph you’re no fun, oppa, but I love you so I’ll listen to you”, Xinyu pouts and lets you go from her strangling limbs.

It is now Friday. You and the usual suspects will be interviewing the candidates that Yooyeon told you about a few days ago. Nakyoung gave each candidate freedom to choose the place of the interview, and they both chose the multipurpose meeting room in the library building, so now you and Xinyu make your way to the appointed place—one problem, though: there’s quite a commotion in front of the meeting room. “You’re holding an interview, aren’t you? I know you are. Why aren’t you letting me in?”, the guy is shouting at Nakyoung who’s holding the line at the door. You see that Nakyoung is in deep distress, but you want to observe the situation a little bit more before jumping in. That is when you see the guy lay his hands on Nakyoung, which you’re not a fan of—Xinyu’s friends are your friends, and you’re not letting harm come their way. “Listen to her and just leave, man. We’ll pretend this never happened”, you say with a serious voice and grab him by the shoulder.

Surprisingly, the guy thinks that it’s a good idea to get violent and punches you in the face as he turns around, “SHUT THE FUCK UP”, he yells out. Nothing could’ve prepared you for a punch in the face, so you took a few steps back in surprise. Xinyu rushes to your aid in panic while screaming, “oh my God, oppa! Oppa, are you okay? Somebody, get security!”. “Holy shit, you’re so fucked”, Nakyoung says to the guy, who only now figured out who he just punched, “out of all the people present, you chose to punch the president—absolutely incredible. You still expect us to accept you after seeing you act like this? We will make your life miserable for this, by the way; we don’t forget”. The guy approaches you slowly in fear, “I-I’m so sorry, sunbaenim, I don’t know what got into me. Are you okay?”. You sigh in disappointment, not because you just took a punch in the face, but because someone thought it was okay to be violent, especially on campus grounds. “I suggest finding a lawyer”, you say, angriness obvious in your voice. He kneels and bows in front of you to beg for forgiveness, “no, no, please. I’m so sorry. I’ve learned my lesson, sunbaenim, please”. You hear the boots of the security guards approaching, so you say your last piece to the brat, “you have not, but you will soon”.

Once you see that the security guards have control of the situation, you leave the scene and forcefully drag Xinyu and Nakyoung by their wrists into the room. “Op-oppa, you’re hurting me; please let go”, Nakyoung tries to pry your fingers off her wrist. You didn’t realize that you were holding their hands so tightly, so you let them go and apologize. “Thank you for saving me, guys”, Nakyoung sobs as she hugs Xinyu for comfort, “he-he was so adamant, and I got so scared”. “I’m glad he decided to punch me and not one of you”, you sigh, “where is Yooyeon, by the way?”. “I’m here”, Yooyeon says as she closes the door behind her, “what just happened? Why are there security guards?”. “Someone thought it was a good idea to punch Jisung-oppa”, Xinyu explains to the confused girl. Yooyeon shakes her head and sighs, “are you okay, Jisung-ah?”. You rub the spot where the punch landed and reply to her, “I’ll be fine—it hurts, though”.

You take a few minutes to catch your breath and process everything that just happened while Xinyu, Yooyeon, and Nakyoung brief each other about the upcoming interview. You soon hear some knocks on the door and a girl peeks into the room, “excuse me, we’re here for the interview”. “Oh, hello, you guys must be Dahyun and Chaeyeon”, Nakyoung greets them and lets them in. Dahyun gasps in surprise when she sees your face, “oh God, what happened to you, sunbaenim? Why is there a bruise on your face?”. “We can talk about that as we go. Please, have a seat and stop calling me and everyone else in this room ‘sunbaenim’. We’ll interview you guys at the same time, I hope that’s okay”, you gesture to the empty chairs on the round table, and they take a seat in them. “So, there’s something I need to explain before we start”, you start the conversation, “you guys are here because Governor Kim over here recommended that you be considered to be recruited into the university council because her faculty council is full”. They turn to Yooyeon and express their appreciation to her, which makes Yooyeon smile in shyness.

You take the first turn to ask them a bunch of questions, from what makes them interested in joining the council, what they think the council should be for students and the surrounding community, and if they’ll interested in becoming the president in the future. They answer each question with some of the best answers you’ve ever heard in your term as president, and you can tell that everyone in the room is impressed and is starting to like them. Xinyu and Nakyoung then take turns asking them questions of their own while Yooyeon opts to observe and listen in silence.

Once they’re done asking questions and getting answers, it’s the recruits’ turn to ask questions. Dahyun kicks off the session by asking you about your wound, “can I ask what happened to your face, oppa?”. “You can, Dahyun-ah”, you sigh, “someone punched me in the face after screaming at Nakyoung-ie because she didn’t let him join the interview—disappointing behavior, if you ask me”. Xinyu moves to you in her chair and grabs your hand, “are you actually pressing charges, oppa? I would love it if you did—no one gets to punch my boyfriend like that”. “He’s your boyfriend, unnie?”, Chaeyeon asks the vice president. Xinyu brings a palm to her forehead, “oh, right, I forgot that you’re not in our circle yet—yes, he is, and I love him and I hate seeing him get hurt. We’ll go get some ointment after this, oppa, okay?”. “The president and vice president are dating, unnie. Are we in a drama right now?”, Chaeyeon turns to Dahyun, who lets out a giggle.

The six of you spend more time getting to know each other better as individuals, and you can tell again that everyone is really interested in having them join the council and this small circle of yours. Nakyoung explicitly tells them about it; “I know we only met today but I know that everyone here likes the two of you, so I sincerely ask you to consider joining our little friend group once you’re formally accepted as members of the council. Your cute little governor here is also with us, by the way”, she says—the way she’s saying it makes it sound like it’s a circle of nepotism with leading figures of the council and a bunch of new recruits. Dahyun shyly accepts the invitation, “we would love that, unnie. Thank you for being so kind to juniors like us”.

The interview is now done, and you find yourself surrounded by 5 girls outside the library. “Oppa, I’m hungry. Can we get lunch?”, Xinyu tugs your hand. “We can, sweetie. Wanna invite the others as well?”, you reply to her. Xinyu turns to the others, “guys, we’re gonna go get lunch, wanna join us?”. Nakyoung and Yooyeon obviously nod in agreement, but Dahyun and Chaeyeon are hesitant. “You two can join us as well, no need to be shy. We’re your friends, just a bit older in age”, you say to them. Chaeyeon answers for herself and Dahyun, “we would love that, oppa, if that’s okay with you”. Nakyoung pinches Chaeyeon’s cheeks playfully, “we’re friends, God damn it. Start acting accordingly, will you?”. You lead them to your car that’s parked in the campus’ parking lot—the parking lot is not as packed on Fridays since the professors are usually doing other stuff off campus, and you managed to find one because you arrived early. Chaeyeon makes a comment when she sees your car, “OF COURSE HE’S RICH—oh my God, I’m so sorry, oppa”. You chuckle at her comment, “it’s okay, I’ve heard that a lot before. Come on, let’s get in”.

You find yourself sailing the slow sea of Friday afternoon traffic, thankfully it’s not as bad as usual. “Does anyone have any idea where we should go?”, you ask the crowd in your car. Dahyun raises her hands after mustering up as much confidence as she can, “can we go get burgers, oppa? There’s a good burger shop nearby—if-if everyone else agrees, that is”. Xinyu is the most excited one at the prospect, “we sure can, I looove burgers. Drive faster, oppa!”. You laugh at her words, “just admit that you love everything, sweetie”.

Dahyun wasn’t lying when she said it was near, as you are now parked in front of an alleyway where the burger shop is. “We’ve been students for so long, but we’ve never heard about this shop once”, you remark. Dahyun shyly confesses to the group, “Th-this place is my parents’, oppa. I-I wanted to promote my parents’ business since they only opened recently, I’m sorry”. Xinyu rushes to hug Dahyun from the side, “awww, how cute. You’re such a good daughter, Dahyun-ah”. Dahyun hides her face behind her palms before replying to Xinyu, “you’re so kind, unnie”. “Now you know why people fall for her, Dahyun-ah”, you say, bragging about your lovely girlfriend to your new friend.

Dahyun leads you into the shop and runs towards the cashier to hug the lady attending it. “Everyone, this is my mom, you can call her Mrs. Seo—duh. Mom, this the council’s president, vice president, secretary, and governor—obviously you know Chaeyeon already. We just became friends today”, she introduces everyone to her mom by pointing at you one by one. “Aigoo, you brought your friends, Dahyun-ah? Welcome, kids—oh my God, what happened to your face? Also, you don’t need to pay today since you’re Dahyun’s friends”, Dahyun’s mom says to your group. You don’t want to not pay, considering how much your friends eat and the fact that your friend’s parents own the place; “It’s a bit of a long story, madam. We would hate to not pay; we eat a lot, you see”, you try to convince her mom. “Okay but promise us you’ll come back. Now what can I get for you?”, Mrs. Seo asks you. You turn to Dahyun, who most likely knows what’s best here, “you have any recommendations, Dahyun-ah?”. “I mean, I think everything is good but I’m very biased”, she giggles.

Since this is your first time here, you decide to choose whatever catches your fancy, which happens to be a double cheeseburger with portobella mushroom and beef bacon. Everyone else then takes turns to order before leaving to find a place to sit together. Mrs. Seo tells you to join two tables together since they only have 4 chairs each, so you do as she says. While you wait, you decide to talk with your friends—you know, like friends do.

It takes about 20 minutes for the food to come out, not bad at all considering how big of an order it was. Mrs. Seo calls out to Dahyun to help carry the food to your table, so she stands up and heads to the kitchen to help. You see the visuals of each thing on the trays, and you can’t help but drool at the sight. “Holy sh—excuse my language—that looks so good!”, Nakyoung shows her enthusiasm to the food. You see that Yooyeon, who usually shows little emotions, has an excited face as well, and it brings joy to Mrs. Seo. “You are such sweet kids. I’m glad Dahyun can be friends with you”, she says. “The pleasure is ours, madam. Dahyun is such a sweet girl as well”, Xinyu says.

Dahyun and her mom set the trays on the table, and everyone jumps to get their stuff right away. Nakyoung is the first to take a bite, and she exclaims in excitement immediately, “oh my God, this is incredible—Mrs. Seo, this is amazing!”. “Omo, I’m so glad you like it”, she says before putting a big squeeze bottle on the table, “try this with the fries, will you? We’ve been developing a sauce recipe and would love to hear some feedback—Chaeyeon-ie has tried this before so she knows already”. Xinyu squeezes the sauce on a piece of fry and shoves it in her mouth, “oh my, that is glorious. What sauce is this, Mrs. Seo? Oppa, try this, quick!”. You take the bottle from Xinyu’s hands and do the same thing she did, and you instantly let out a satisfied groan thanks to the taste. “it’s minced garlic, chives, and white pepper mixed with mayonnaise and a little bit of my husband’s hot sauce—you know, you two look so cute together; have you considered dating?”, she explains. “They are indeed dating, madam”, Nakyoung answers for you with a laugh like the spokesperson that she often is. Mrs. Seo gasps, “oh, that’s so cute. Alright, I’m gonna stop bothering you guys—enjoy!”.

No one says anything for the rest of the meal as they savor every glorious bite of their food, letting out excited yelps and satisfied groans at the incredible taste. “Dahyun-ah”, you say after swallowing a bite, “would your parents be interested in getting some investment?”. “Look at him, flexing his wealth in front of his junior”, Nakyoung says. Dahyun’s eyes widen at your unexpected question, “I-I’ll need to ask my parents”, she says. “Can you please ask now? I’m curious what they’d say”, you push further. Dahyun sips her drink before running to the cashier and dragging his mom back to the table. “Mom, mom, president-oppa wants to invest in us!”, Dahyun excitedly says to her mom. Mrs. Seo’s turns her head to you in surprise, “do you actually?”. “I do, madam”, you say, as humble sounding as possible, “I think you can do great things with this business, hence my interest”. “I, I”, you see tears gathering in Mrs. Seo’s eyes, “thank you for the kind words, son. Yes, we would love to get an investment—what are the terms, though?”. “My family’s treasurer will reach out to your family in less than 7 business days, madam. You can discuss the terms with her—I’ll make sure it’s more favorable to you than me”, you say to her. “Please stand up, son”, Mrs. Seo says to you, so you do as she says. She hugs you warmly as she’s shedding (you hope) happy tears, “thank you so much, son; it means a lot to our family. How rich are you that your family has a treasurer, though?”. You answer her question with the answer your parents have taught you since you were a kid, “we are comfortable, madam”. She lets go of the hug and wipes her eyes, “I gotta call my husband; this is crazy! Dahyun-ah, isn’t this crazy?”. Dahyun bows to you, “thank you so much, oppa. We won’t forget your kindness”. You’re surprised to see her bow to you, so you grab her shoulders and make her straighten her back, “oh, c’mon, there’s no need to act like that”.

You excuse yourself and head to the back alley behind the shop to call your family’s treasurer, Mrs. Kwon Yuri. She picks up immediately after one ring, “Good afternoon, Mr. Jung. Can I help you?”. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Kwon”, you greet her, “I’m planning to make an investment in a burger shop owned by my friend’s family. Can you please handle it for me? I’ll send you their number after this”. Mrs. Kwon stays silent for a few seconds, but you hear her keyboard clacking over the phone, “I can, Mr. Jung; I will reach out to them in two days”. You feel a wave of relief in your heart, “sounds great, Mrs. Kwon. Be sure to make it favorable for them, please—5 or 10 percent is fine. Thanks for the help”. You send her their number after hanging up and with it, your investment will soon be confirmed, and they’ll get a small boost to grow their business.

Unbeknownst to you, Xinyu has been hiding around the corner waiting for you to end the call. She runs to you when she hears you hang up the phone and hugs you tightly. “My God, that is so sexy, oppa”, she says. “What is, baby?”, you say, unsure about what she’s referring to. “The fact that you’re willing to use your money to help someone else. I know it’s probably spare change for you but it’s still meaningful”, she looks at you straight in the eyes as her hands are on each side of your head. ”I was just trying to help, it’s not like they don’t deserve it—I mean, you know how good their stuff is”, you tell her. “Oh, I know, but you know what else is good?”, she smiles at you. “No?”, you say, oblivious. “My boyfriend’s lips on mine”, she says before pressing her lips against yours. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like kissing Xinyu but kissing her in broad daylight in a back alley feels scandalous. You let your lips stay pressed against Xinyu’s for what feels like a few seconds before you push her away. “Baby, we can’t afford to get caught”, you bargain. “You’re right”, she sighs, “we’ll continue this later”.

You take her hand and enter the shop again. You see Dahyun and her mom crying while a man, who you assume is Mr. Seo, tries to calm them down. Dahyun then points a finger to you and the man walks up to you and reaches his hand out to shake yours. “You must be Jung Jisung”, the man says, “I’m Dahyun’s dad. Thank you so much for your help, son. It means a lot to us”. You’re surprised by how Dahyun’s family is reacting to your little feat, “I-I just wanted to help, sir. My friends and I really like the products your family is selling here”. Mr. Seo pulls you into a hug and you see that Nakyoung and Chaeyeon are leaning against Yooyeon’s shoulders on each side while sobbing. “What is happening, man?”, you think to yourself. Mr. Seo lets you go after a few seconds and shakes your hand one more time; “I need to go; I have two ladies to attend to”, he says, referring to his wife and daughter who are still weeping.

You sit down at the table again and ask your friends about what happened when you were away for that short a time. “They-they told us how hard it was to start this business, oppa”, Nakyoung holds back a sob before continuing, “they-they had to take a bunch of loans and barely had customers at the start—our tab today is one of the biggest ones they’ve had so far. Dahyun even had to do several part-time jobs to help her family’s economy”. Chaeyeon is making it obvious that she’s the most sensitive person in the friend group, as she cries even more after hearing Nakyoung’s summary of what has just happened. “They were over the moon when you said you were going to invest, and now the emotions have finally caught up to them”, Yooyeon says before wiping her eyes with a napkin. You realize that this is what your parents have been preaching for your whole life: to be able to help someone with what you have—especially money—no matter how big or small it is. You silently praise your parents and pray to whatever celestial being is up there for their health and safety.

You wait until everyone has calmed down before walking to the cashier to pick up the tab. “Ji-Jisung-ah”, Mrs. Seo’s emotions are still high as she keeps sobbing after all this time, “are you 100% sure you’re going to invest in us?”. “I am sure, madam. I’ve called the treasurer; she’ll reach out in two days. It’s the least I can do to help, madam”. Mrs. Seo opens her arms and hugs you, “thank you, son; thank you so much”. You close your eyes and savor the genuine emotions she’s showing you, “the pleasure is mine, madam; believe me”. She lets go and fiddles with the computer in front of her, “since you insisted on paying, everything will be ₩50.000 and I’m giving you a 10% discount—so what is that, then?”. Your eyes widen in surprise when you hear her words, “wait, no, no, no. Please, there’s no need for that”. You argue back and forth with Mrs. Seo until she agrees not to give you a discount. You hand her two ₩50.000 banknotes and tell her to keep the rest, which makes her bawl her eyes out again. You’re starting to feel terrible for making these people cry so much today, so you awkwardly walk back to the table so that you can get your friends to leave with you.

Everyone stands up when they’re finally ready to leave and file out of the door one by one except for Dahyun. Before it’s your turn to leave, Mr. Seo pulls you to the side and hugs you one more time. “Thank you for everything, Jisung-ah”, Mr. Seo says to your ear, “I would offer you my Dahyun but I was told that you have a girlfriend already”. Your eyes widen in shock, “That won’t be necessary ever, Mr. Seo. I don’t even know if Dahyun likes me like that—also she’s not anyone’s property, respectfully”, you whisper in his ear. He lets go of you and shakes your hand softly, so you reciprocate his gesture and do the same. “Oppa”, Dahyun calls out to you, “thank you so much for everything, seriously. I promise I’ll do my best in the council; I’ll do whatever you guys ask me to”. You smile at her, “I know you will, Dahyun-ah. I can tell that you’re a hardworking person as well”. Dahyun looks at the door and makes sure that the coast is clear before hugging you. “I know you have Xinyu-unnie but please let me have this for now”, she then gets on her tippy toes and pecks your cheek, which makes the two of you blush at the same time. “Thank you, Dahyun-ah. I wish you and everyone health and safety. See you soon, okay?”, you make to leave the restaurant and catch up with your friends.

You get back in the car and start driving again; everyone except Xinyu (obviously) asks you to take them back to campus, so you do as they ask and take them back there. They get off at the campus gate and wave at you as you leave, and now you’re left alone with Xinyu. “Let’s go home, oppa”, she says before reaching over and palming your cock, “I’m so fucking horny, oppa—if you hadn’t stopped me back in the alley, I would’ve got on my knees and sucked your cock”. You can feel your cock getting hard and your patience running thin, so you take a deep breath before replying to Xinyu, “patience, princess; we’ll get home before you know it”. You hope that your words were good enough to convince her to be patient, but they apparently weren’t, as she keeps palming your cock the rest of the way home.

You make it back to the parking lot of your building again. You stand next to the car and wait for Xinyu to get off. Instead of taking her hand and walk side by side, you lift her by her thighs and carry her to your destination. “You’re not getting away with being such a brat—you wanna palm my cock because you’re horny? Fine, I’ll show you horny”, you whisper aggressively in her ear. “You’re gonna make me pay, daddy?”, she whispers back, her voice laced with lust. You rush to your apartment and enter the bedroom straight away. Your lust-controlled brain doesn’t want to play nice, as it makes you drop Xinyu on the bed not-too-softly. Xinyu bites her bottom lip; “I like it when you’re rough”, she says, trying to rile you up more. You want to talk dirty with her, but you’re given another idea instead; “let’s make a deal: if you can make it through this session without cumming, I’ll buy you whatever you want—including Dahyun’s restaurant. Now pick a fucking safe word”. You take off everything you have on your body in front of her, and she bites her lip again, “Oh please, just who exactly do you think I am? Just come and punish me, daddy; use me, stretch me, choke me, cum in me—do whatever pleases you and I’ll take it like a good girl, because I am one”.

You pull her off the bed and onto her feet; “strip”, you command. “Yes, daddy” is her reply; short, but laden with obedience. She takes her sweet time to take off each thing and tries putting on a show for you, but since you’re now thinking with your cock and not your brain, you’re getting impatient; “I told you to strip, princess, not to take off your clothes”, you say as you palm her neck and squeeze it slightly while glaring right into her eyes—she’s taller than most people but you still tower over her (shoutout to dad for his genes). You see that she’s starting to get intimidated but still has her strong girl façade on, “hngh—patience, daddy, plea-please”. You let her neck go and she takes the rest of her clothes seemingly nervously, as seen by how her hands shake as she’s doing it. Xinyu gets back in bed when nothing is on her body, now ready to start the session. As much as you’re horny and rough, you’re never one to act without consent, so you ask the seemingly scared girl in your bed, “are you okay? Was I too mean? Do you want to keep going?”. “N-no, you’re okay—I’m okay”, she takes a deep breath and welcomes you to bed.

You get on top of her and start sucking and nibbling her neck, marking it with your lips as she moans and sighs at the contact. “You love marking me, right, daddy?”, she eggs you on, “you like showing people who I belong to, don’t you?”. You leave her neck when you see that it has a red spot on the side, knowing that it will turn into a decently sized hickey tomorrow, “Uh-huh; they’ll know if they haven’t already”, you say to her, “if you cover it with makeup, I will make you sleep on the sofa for a month”. She pleas her case, “but what if my professors see it?”. You shrug, “we’re adults—your words, not mine. Now stay still, I have things to do”.

You move to her breasts, putting one in your mouth while fondling the other. Xinyu has always been sensitive there, so you know it’ll be plenty of stimulation for her. “Daddy”, she sighs, “why do you like my breasts so much?”. You lift your mouth off so you can reply to her; “because they fit in my hands so well”, you palm a breast; a perfect handful in your hand, “can you feel how perfect it is in my hand?”. Xinyu nods to your question, “ye-yes, daddy; they’re perfect for you, just like the rest of my body”. “Good answer, princess—you should be able to feel this as well”, you pinch a nipple and tug, making Xinyu scream instantly, “oh, fuck, fuck—the-they’re sensitive, daddy”. You chuckle, “I know they are, but you’re mine to play with”.

You play with her tits a bit more before moving on. You opt to skip her tummy (no matter how firm and soft it looks) and go straight to her pussy. “Open your legs, princess”, you command her, and she instantly spread her long legs enough for you to fit your head between them. “I-I hope you like what you see”, she says with a blush on her cheeks. Honestly, how can you not like the sight despite having seen it a lot—her perfectly pink and glistening pussy is making you drool, literally. You dive into her pussy right away; your tongue is pressed against her entrance, threatening to invade it while your index finger is on her nub. Xinyu starts moaning and squirming around as you start licking her pussy, so you hold down her thighs so that you don’t miss your target. “Remember to hold your cum”, you remind the moaning girl. Her heavy breathing makes it hard for her to verbally answer you, so she just nods to your say.

“Op-oppa”, she calls out with heavy pants, “you-you’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that”. You lift your face off her crotch and look at her in disbelief, “is that supposed to be a threat? You dare threat me, you slut? That’s the wrong name too, by the way”. Xinyu panics, “no-no, daddy; I would never—oh, fuck—I would never threaten you, I swear”. You plunge two fingers into her pussy, “that’s what I thought”. “Oh, fuck—daddy, please”, she lets out whiny moans. You know that she’s doing her best to hold off her orgasm, and you praise her for her efforts; even good girls have their limits, and hers is very close. You keep fucking her with your fingers until you feel her pussy squeeze them, indicating that she’s having her orgasm soon. True enough, she screams from the top of her lungs after a few seconds, “I’M-I’M CUMMING, FUCK!”. You pull your fingers out as she squirts her juices out and stroke her thighs to help her calm down. It takes a few minutes of moaning and whining until her mind is cleared and her high is dissipated. “You came”, you say with a fake disappointed voice. Realization of what just happened slaps her in the face, “I’m so sorry, daddy; please don’t punish me, I beg you. I-I’ll give you my mouth, I’ll give you my asshole—anything you want. Just don’t punish me, please”. “There’s no way she’s offering you her ass”, your brain says, “she’s never trained for it, has she? She’ll never be able to take your cock there—don’t take it, son”.

You decide to keep her in the dark and not tell her that you’re not getting in her ass because you’re naughty like that. “On your stomach, princess”, you command her, and you see that she’s nervous because she’s clueless as to what you have in mind. “I’m so dead; we’ve never trained my ass before and he’s getting in there—this is why you don’t run your mouth, Zhou Xinyu”, Xinyu thinks to herself. She gets even more scared when you lift her ass but not the rest of her body. You make her think that you’re going in her ass by asking her to spread her cheeks. Xinyu’s fear peaks when you put your thumb on her asshole and slather spit on it—she even sheds a tear because she’s that scared. “Look at it”, you say, “that must be so tight and snug”. “I guess this is how I die”, she thinks as more tears are released from her eyes, “he’s going in there dry, too—fuck, this will hurt like a bitch”. You remove your thumb and announce to her that you’re going in, so she closes her eyes and braces for the pain. To her surprise, you decide to plunge into her pussy instead, so Xinyu lets out a loud moan immediately; “oh, God, daddy, yes, yes—I’m your good girl, daddy”. A wave of relief washes over Xinyu; “he’s not getting in my ass!”, she thinks to herself.

You lean forward and whisper in Xinyu’s ear, “you thought I was gonna take your ass, didn’t you, princess?”. She moans before answering you, “ye-yes, daddy. I-I was so scared”. You laugh at her; you’d think she would know by now that you’d never do anything without her explicit and clear consent, but here she is, scared shitless at the prospect of losing her anal virginity to you. “I might not be taking your ass today, but I’m taking your pussy”, you say before pulling her gloriously thick jet-black hair. “It’s yours, daddy—I’m yours; take me anytime you want—oh, fuck, that’s so fucking deep”, she replies. You press Xinyu’s head into the pillow, “I’m cumming in your pussy and I want you to keep it in”. You feel her nod against your hand, and you pick up the pace of your thrusts.

You keep pumping her pussy deep and fast, just like how you like it. Xinyu is holding the pillow under her head with all her might, her knuckles turning white thanks to how hard she’s gripping it. You feel your lust peaking, so you give her rougher thrusts as your crotch makes clapping sounds when it hits Xinyu’s cheeks. Xinyu is moaning and screaming your name away, as she feels the rough thrusts you’re giving her; “I’m gonna feel this tomorrow”, she says in her head. You can feel your orgasm approaching, so you get in a squatting position without pulling out and keep thrusting into her pussy with all your strength. Xinyu knows this as well, so she eggs you on, “keep stretching me like that, daddy—oh, fuck, you’re in my belly”.

You start feeling tired from fucking her in such position. Thankfully for you, you’re so close to cumming as well. “Princess”, you say with heavy breathing, “I’m so close”. She turns her head to see you over her shoulder, “yes, daddy; I’m so close as well—oh, fuck—please let me cum with you”. You’re reminded of her words a few days ago when you said you were close, and you decide to use it against her, “I’ll let you cum if you ask nicely”. She takes a deep breath so that she can ‘ask nicely’, “daddy, please, let me cum with you—I’m-I’m begging you, daddy”. Satisfied with her answer, you pet her head; “good job, princess”. To make sure that she indeed cums with you, you reach around her waist and rub her clit as you’re fucking her.

Your orgasm finally hits after some more thrusts. You plug your cock deep into her and start shooting your cum deep into Xinyu’s pussy; at the same time, Xinyu’s legs quiver thanks to her second orgasm—no squirting this time, unfortunately. You stand up on the bed after all your cum is released into her; “if you let it leak out, I’m taking your ass”, you threaten her falsely. You know that Xinyu lacks training, so unless she trains her ass, you’re not getting in there—unless she decides to act like a brat again. Xinyu doesn’t know that it was a fake threat, so she keeps her ass up to prevent your cum from leaking out while she tries her best to catch her breath.

You jump off the bed and leave to get water and towel, “be right back, princess”. When you return, she still has her ass up because at heart, she is very obedient and just wants to please her boyfriend as much as she can. “Daddy”, she calls out with teary eyes, “can-can I put my ass down now? I’m s-starting to get tired”. You feel a rush of guilt in your heart because she actually fell for the false threat; “you can, princess. Just relax, okay?”, you say as you guide her waist down by pressing down on the small of her back until she’s flat on the bed. “I’m gonna wipe your body with this towel, okay, princess?”. You see her nod, so you start wiping her body from her nape down to her legs, making sure not to miss a spot as you go. You roll her over onto her back to clean the other side of her body and that’s when you see the messy makeup on her face—solid proof that tears were running down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, princess”, you stroke her cheeks softly with your thumb, “I was so rough on you, wasn’t I?”. She sniffles before answering you, “you-you were, but it’s okay; nothing I’m not used to”. “Can I clean that makeup for you, or do you want to do it yourself?”, you ask her. She reaches out to grab the towel from your hands and wipe her face with it, “this should be enough”. She then returns the towel to you so you can clean the rest of her body.

“Honey”, you call out to her, “wanna shower or no?”. She sighs in exhaustion, “no, too tired—you can shower if you want”. You jump back in bed and lie next to her; “no, too tired”, you return her words. She gathers all her might and scoots over so that she can cuddle you; “I hope that was satisfactory”, she says. You peck her head, “of course it was. Thank you very much, love”. “I was so scared that you were going to fuck me in the ass, daddy”, she hasn’t dropped the name yet, “you know I’ve never trained my ass so I thought you were gonna take my anal virginity raw and dry—I mean sure, it’s only right that I give you that but I was super scared”. You stroke the back of her head softly, “we can talk about that later, sweetie—just know this: I would never do anything to you without your clear and explicit consent, so until I hear that you’re ready to take me in your ass, I’m not fucking you in the ass. I promise you that”.

She hums in understanding—you can tell that she’s grateful too—but is then reminded about the deal from earlier, “so I guess you’re not buying me whatever I want since I came?”. You let out a chuckle, “what do you want to get, sweetie?”. She blushes when she realizes that she didn’t lose the deal because of how sweet and kind you really are behind all those façades, “oh-oh, um, I-I wa-want burgers and fries from Dahyun’s place again, oppa”. You nod to her, “sure, love. We can go after this if you want”.

You and Xinyu get back in the car after regaining energy and showering, as you two are now on your way to Dahyun’s restaurant for the second time today. When you arrive, you see that Dahyun’s attending the cashier this time. She sees you two in front of the door and rushes to open it for you, “oppa, unnie, welcome back!”. “Hey, baby. Nice to see you again”, Xinyu hugs the girl in front of her. “We promised we would return so here we are”, you say to her. “Where are the others, though?”, Dahyun asks. “No idea; we just had sex at home and came here after cuddling and showering”, Xinyu utters oh-so-brazenly. “OH MY GOD! UNNIE!”, Dahyun covers her ears and runs away from the two of you. You palm your face, “I’m so sorry, Dahyun-ah; you didn’t need to hear all that”. Dahyun fans her cheeks with her hands to fight her blush, “oh my, how could you say that so casually—wh-what can I get for you guys this time?”. You pinch Xinyu’s cheek for her little shenanigan before turning to Dahyun and repeat your order from this afternoon; “oh, can we get 2 more fries and that sauce again? So 4 fries in total and the sauce”, you ask her. “Of course you can, oppa. Please wait at the table for your food”.

Dahyun brings a tray of food to you after about 15 minutes. She thinks that she can waltz away after that, so you call out to her, “where on God’s green earth do you think you’re going, Dahyun-ah?”. Surprised to hear you call her that way, she walks back to you your table awkwardly, “I-I’m sorry?”. “Why do you think we ordered 4 burgers?”, you point at the empty seat next to Xinyu, “have a seat with us. We can have a little chit-chat—you can get back to work if there’s another customer coming”. “Uwuwu, my baby”, Xinyu peppers Dahyun’s face with pecks. “I’m sorry, oppa, but is unnie always like this?”, Dahyun asks you. “No, only to people she likes”, you say with a smile, indicating to her that she’s one of those people.

No other customer ends up coming, so you have the entire restaurant to yourselves. “Dahyun-ah, would you be able to cater for the entire council? I would love to introduce your products to our staffs”, you say before shoving another piece of fry coated in sauce, “holy shit, that is glorious—you know what, we’ll pay for this bottle of sauce since we’re probably finishing this”. “Oppa”, she says with a soft voice, “you.. are you serious?”. You’re not sure what she’s talking about, “pardon?”. “Are you serious about asking us to cater for the council? That’d be, like, our biggest sales so far”, she says, tears threatening to burst out of her eyes for the second time today. “Let’s ask Xinyu what she thinks”, you point to the girl sitting next to Dahyun. “I agwee wif offa”, she says with a full mouth before swallowing her food, “ehm, excuse me—yes, I agree with oppa’s idea; we should introduce this to everyone. We’ll need the sauce as well, by the way”.

Dahyun sits in silence before covering her face to hide her tears; “oppa, unnie, why are you guys so kind to us? First it was the investment and now this?”, she says with trembling voice. Xinyu hugs the crying girl, “because we love you and we love your food, baby”. If Xinyu was calling another guy “baby”, you would flip out, but you don’t mind since it’s Dahyun. “I know that we sound like a broken record, but we genuinely love the food here. Can you give me an estimation as to when you think you’ll be able to do it?”, the way you say it makes you sound like your dad right now. Dahyun sniffles and gathers her mind to think of an answer, “um, probably in a few weeks; I need to talk with my parents, though”. “Very cool”, you clap your hands once, “we’ll be having a meeting with everyone in the council at the end of September. We’ll tell them to come with an empty stomach”.

You’re now ready to leave the restaurant after finishing your burgers, fries, and a whole bottle of sauce. “We’re gonna need to hit the gym this weekend”, you think to yourself. You’re standing in front of the cashier with Dahyun and Xinyu, and that’s when Xinyu excuses herself and runs to the toilet. Dahyun keeps her eyes on Xinyu until she disappears behind the toilet door and walks up to you slowly. You’re not too sure what she’s trying to do, so you opt to let things run their course for now. She wraps her arms around your nape and pulls you down for a kiss. As she’s kissing you, you can’t help but notice how soft her lips are. Dahyun then pulls away from the kiss after a few seconds; “I swear I’ll find a way to repay you, just wait—also, don’t think that I didn’t see your mark on unnie’s neck; sex with you must be amazing, oppa”, she says before taking a few steps back to avoid Xinyu’s suspicion. “You’re saying a lot of nonsense right now, darling”, you say in a quiet voice—that’s another pet name spilling out of your lips and Dahyun catches it right away. “Darling, hm? I like the sound of that, darling”, she winks at you and walks away. Perfect timing, really, because you see that Xinyu is opening the toilet door and about to walk out.

You close your eyes and put a palm on your forehead; “what is happening right now, man?”. Life is throwing another girl at you, and you’re not sure why because you already have a girlfriend—a lovely one at that. You take a deep breath before holding your girlfriend’s hand and leading her out of the door. You take a glance at Dahyun over your shoulder, and you see her wink at you once again. “I’m so fucking cooked”, you think to yourself.

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