#like idk i just don’t really think of myself
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i don’t even know what to say. you’ve left a yapper speechless. with Real Tears in her eyes. i feel so much adoration for you and i’m soso grateful for your words, the time that went into composing such a heartfelt review, and just your support. i actually will fall on my knees and beg you to kiss me PLEASE MISSIE 😭😭🩷
something about your ocs (at least from what i've been able to read so far) is that you really capture the essence of their innocence and youth. it makes me nostalgic and so protective of them 🥺 esp this oc and how the fic ended. bc even if jk didn't want to rob her of her youth, he did. and god, does it hurt.
this DID it for me… had my ass pulling a tom holland, i got the engagement ring here baby plz!
i have always been insecure of the way i capture most of my ocs… i think i can’t help but unconsciously make them “weaker” just bc they’re the victims of so many more painful and deeper emotions. it’s something i like but i also fear it can maybe come across as a stereotypical depiction of women? idk. but your comment really made it better. i’m happy you liked her 🩷 and Sawrry you could feel her hurt hehe
like i said, it takes a real special person to pull off this sort of trope, but i expected no less from you. bc wow... amazing. i don't read a lot of age gap fics bc if im being frank... it's a pretty taboo topic in our society, yet this happens everyday to real people, right? i think it's one thing to judge it based on what it is and then having the opportunity to build a world with characters and feelings around it. what an experience. thank you as always lovie!!
i’m 🥹🥹 so lovingly overwhelmed with this. it’s suchhhh a huge honor. to be seen as a special person?!???? by you!!!!?? and wow this is like the biggest compliment i’ve ever received. i love reading about age gaps, and writing it has been a challenge but it still remains one of my favorite tropes. and you’re totally right about what you’re saying. i haven’t found myself supportive of it in situations that saw my closed ones involved, but writing and reading about it truly puts things into another perspective sometimes. these stories still deserve to be told ❣️
thank You, prettiest soul 🩷 always thankful <3
OLDER ⋆ 정국
you’ve tried, but you can’t help yourself from crushing on your best friend’s dad. hot, buff, tatted up and successful, mr. jeon is the starring actor in all of your wettest dreams. and as you wake up from one while sleeping over at his house after his daughter’s birthday party, you don’t expect all of them to suddenly come true. but they do.
pairing: dilf!jk x inexperienced!fem reader
genre: smut, dilf au, best friend’s father
warnings: lower case intended, porn with some lots of plot, age gap (21 n 38), dom!jk, sub!reader, voyeurism, messy blow job, fingering, oral (f receiving), bit of tit play (small chested reader yayyy), two (2) spanks, unprotected sex, cum eating, dirty talk, a bit of degradation, but also praise, pet names, some angst hehe, she falls first he falls harder??? but miscommunication sadly, forbidden love
ratings: 18+ / mdi
word count: 18.2k
a/n: i kinda hate this it doesnt make sense anymore to me but when i realized i was already 12k words in so 😃 here you are! its also so hard to write smut for me because i get carried away but then it becomes too overwhelming Help. anyways. im back hey!!!!
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in the backseat of his car, you stare forward at his hands gripping the steering wheel. there’s something hypnotic about the way his fingers curl around the leather. you bite your lips, an attempt to suppress the heat easily pooling low in your belly, your thighs rubbing together to conceal the effects of your lewd thoughts.
but amid them, one stands out. it’s the one that puts a shameless, selfish smile on your face, when you fixate on the image of the fourth finger of his left hand lacking a gold band.
it’s been a few months since that day— since areum, your best friend, showed up at your door in a frantic state, her finger jabbing the bell over and over in a panicked rhythm that jolted you from your bed.
you had nearly tripped down the stairs in your rush to swing the entrance open, and when you did, you were instantly tackled by your friend collapsing into your arms, her tears soaking through your shirt.
kicking the door shut, your hands busy embracing areum with panic in your eyes, you tried to steady both her and yourself. in between her uncontrollable sobs, shaking you to the core, she let her worries tumble out her mouth. her words came in a torrent, fast and breathless, barely giving you any time to fully process them as she buried her face in your neck, her body trembling.
it took a moment for the huge news to break through your thick, slowed down brain, but then it struck you, areum chanting it repeatedly as if she couldn’t grasp her mind around it: her parents were splitting up. divorce was imminent.
your own disbelief mirrored hers, but for very different reasons. you felt it in the way your shock turned into excitement; indecorous, depraved exhilaration, with your friend still hiding in your chest.
even as her sobs echoed in your ears, your mind latched onto one single thought, repeating like a mantra: he’s single. mr. jeon is single.
you felt terribly guilty when you sensed a smile that you couldn’t quite suppress stretching over your features, and the jittery sensation that came with it flowed your body and reached your hands, tightening them around areum harder to try and squeeze the shame out of yourself.
since that day, you’ve lost count of how many afternoons you’ve spent at areum’s house. you’ve been doing your best to be the friend she needs, to keep her company when what she fears the most is loneliness.
you’ve been a constant presence, helping her through the mountain of neglected work she left piling up, distracting her with baking sessions, or mindlessly binge watching entire seasons of friends on lazy evenings. anything to keep her mind off the pain.
but each visit is an opportunity. a fleeting chance to see him. to study how he moves around the house with that quiet intensity of his, a presence able to fill every room like a calm, steady current.
you’ve memorized many of his mannerisms. the way his eyes soften when he looks at areum; the way his mouth twitches into a faint smile when she tries to cheer him up; the way he nods at you in recognisment, silently letting you know he’s grateful for what you’re doing to help his daughter.
you wish you could help him too. in other ways. ways you know you shouldn’t be thinking about.
you can’t avoid it, though. you’ve witnessed him come back home from work countless times now, watched the tension etched across his features as he steps through the door, wished you could be the one to ease it off his shoulders. let your hand travel down his chest, reach his belt.
you feel disgusting unfailingly, but how can you not let your mind wander when he groans so deliciously every time he loosens the tie around his neck and kicks off his shoes?
you know exactly what his next move is, the imperceptible sigh melting the weariness off his face the moment he greets his daughter, a tender smile breaking through his exhaustion.
“any requests for dinner tonight, girls?” he always asks, his gaze jumping between areum and you on the living room couch, waiting for a response.
after your friend replies she likes whatever her daddy cooks, your stomach twists with nerves when his eyes meet yours to make sure there’s no complaints, and you quickly shake your head, biting your lips to keep from saying something foolish. is your dick on the menu? perhaps?
and the man can cook. exceptionally well. he moves around the kitchen with an effortless grace, every movement purposeful, every dish you have the honor of tasting better than the last.
while you help setting the table, you catch yourself staring more times than you should, mesmerized by the way he chops vegetables or stirs a pot, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything he’s not good at.
fuck. is there even a single flawed bone in this man’s body? with every day you spend at his house, you’re convinced there can’t be.
you want him to notice you, the same way you notice him. you tell yourself you’re just being a good friend to areum, but you know there’s more behind your constant visits.
there’s definitely more behind the way your skirts get shorter, your tops tighter, your bras purposefully not worn.
you feel crazed when you convince yourself his gaze falls upon your exposed thighs when he puts a plate in front of you at dinner, or when his eyes seem to be caught, only for a fleeting second, by your hardened nipples, evident through your poor excuses of shirts.
even when your interactions don’t go further than a brief exchange about college and areum or quiet, polite smiles in passing, the mere thought of being around him sends a rush through your veins, a dark and forbidden feeling tumbling in your stomach.
you’ve been seeking more and more of that after one particular night, your feet making their way down the stairs after areum had fallen asleep and you had rathered take your leave. you found him stretched on the couch, a drink in his hand.
his eyes hazily followed your movements, his voice low and slightly slurred, “are you leaving already?”
hearing him acknowledge you outside of the usual context of areum’s presence made you stop dead in your tracks, your reddened cheeks turning to face him, the dark color spreading all over your features when you fully took him in.
he was cladded in a comfortable attire, one you almost never saw on him, black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt falling sweetly on his shoulders, the short sleeves revealing the intricate ink designs running all over his right arm.
you shook yourself out of your trance suddenly, stuttering, “huh… yes. didn’t wanna be a bother.”
he chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, “oh, you’re not. i wish all of my daughter’s friends were like you.”
his words hung in the air, with sincerity and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. you simply laughed along, a nervous, shaky sound escaping your lips, trying to mask the way your heart was racing with desperation for the gods to grace you with the depth of his tipsy voice all night.
to this day, you still think your horny and delusional prayer was heard when he nodded to the empty space beside him, lifting his glass slightly, “care for a drink? you’re 21 now, right?”
you only nodded shyly, more out of reflex than actual thought, slowly making your way to sit beside him just as he had instructed. the proximity sent a wave of heat through your body, your insides melting with the lava, the smell of his cologne and laundry detergent replacing the burned ground with a trail of flowers.
you were willing to do whatever he wanted from you at that moment, even if it meant downing the harsh liquor he poured into a glass for you. you took a sip, struggling not to grimace at the burn that followed. he smiled.
it was probably the alcohol loosening his tongue, but that night, for the first time, you saw a side of mr. jeon that he kept carefully hidden away, his vulnerability a strong characteristic of it.
his words tumbled out in a quiet, almost confessional tone. he spoke about his marriage, about how he had always felt somewhat trapped. still a teenager himself, he was only 17 when he found out his soon to be wife was pregnant with areum; 23 when they decided to marry.
his voice soft, but tinged with a sadness you hadn’t heard before, he admitted he never felt like he got to live his youth to the fullest, certainly blessed with his perfect baby, but also chained down by responsibilities and a tightening pressure he shouldn’t have had to deal with at such a young age.
then, with his eyes burning into your shiny and equally flaring ones, he paused just for a moment, and you felt he could see right through you, into the very core of your being. that he had you all figured out.
“when i look at you,” he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, his gaze traveling down your bare thighs, squished together on his couch, “i feel like i get a bit of that youth back. you’re so full of life, so fresh, so… full of love for my daughter. i’m glad she has you. glad we have you.”
as he found your orbs again, you noticed his had significantly darkened. you were sure your heart would have failed you if you had kept navigating in his gaze; instead, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.
that night, he paid for your uber and insisted you sent him a text when you made it home. it was only read the morning after, and left unanswered.
even now, you’re convinced that if it weren’t for the whisky, those words would have stayed locked away in his mind, never seeing the light of day. not even if he were forced to speak them at gunpoint.
still, you’re grateful for the magical effects of alcohol and how they’ve brought you a tiny bit closer to give a look into his complicated world. it has awakened something in you, something stronger and far more dangerous than anything you’ve felt before.
you want to be there for him. help him through the doubts and regrets. be the youth he missed. take the weight off his shoulders. let him use you on that couch.
that feral, undomesticated monster inside you is a hundred times hungrier when, exiting the library building with areum by your side, babbling in your ear about today’s plans, you see his sleek mercedes parked outside.
he honks, getting his daughter’s attention too, who excitedly walks over the car when she spots it. the sound works as a pavlovian trigger for you, it has your mouth salivating and your senses alert, catching up with your friend and getting in the backseat.
it has been a few weeks since you last saw him, both you and areum too busy with assignments and outside activities, and his charming smile as he asks about the day cuts the breath from your lungs.
you’re silent as your friend fills him in, your ears struggling to pick up her speech as it only takes a few more seconds for your eyes to be caught by an interesting detail, one that has your world rocked: he finally took his wedding ring off.
the wedding ring that has stood as an unspoken boundary between you and your reckless fantasies is gone.
the realization hits hard, and suddenly, the reality around you narrows. your mind veers into dangerous territory, conjuring visions that feel too real.
you can almost feel his left hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you in, claiming you. and the images are so vivid, so consuming, that you don’t even notice when areum nudges your shoulder.
you don’t register her calling your name until the sound finally cuts through, pulling you back to the present with a jolt.
you blink a few times, trying to ground yourself, before turning to face her, areum’s voice light but her expression amusedly curious, “dad asked you a question.”
your whole face drops, panic clear in your features, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks. you’ve been zoning out, lost in a daydream about the very man sitting in front of you, the one you literally just ignored, too busy thinking of him. the irony is almost too much.
your eyes find his in the rearview mirror, and the slight smirk on his lips only makes you look even dumber, stuttering all throughout your explanation, “sorry, mr. jeon. i— um. i was distracted.”
he simply chuckles, low and clearly not offended by your lapse in attention. his focus is back on the road, but as he speaks you keep yours on the words he’s directing at you this time, “it’s okay. i always tell you, just jeongguk is fine. i was asking about your day, you seem a little worn out.”
“oh. i—it went well! i guess i’m just tired,” the words feel clumsy as they leave your mouth, but you hope they sound convincing enough. you just can’t stop your eyes from falling on his left hand.
“well, you can’t be!” it’s areum’s excitement interrupting your furious imagination and bubbling over, “you need to help me set up for tonight. then, we’re gonna do our makeup, our hair, and dress up. i’m so excited!”
right. the reason why you could finally see mr. jeon after weeks and why you’re currently driving to his house is because it’s areum’s birthday.
the day feels significant in so many ways. you’re excited to witness your best friend turn a year older even after the hardships she’s been faced with. honored that you’re the one she’s chosen to help make this night perfect, ensure every detail is just how she’s pictured this moment to be like. and you can’t deny that you feel slightly nervous at the prospect of tonight, knowing there’s going to be faces you’re not that well acquainted with. you’d say you’re a bit awkward with new people, but you’ll try to bear through it for the sake of areum’s happiness.
but mostly, you feel guilty. because no matter how much you try to focus on your friend, the thought that truly makes your insides all mushy with fuzziness is the fact that you’re going to be in the proximity of her dad, again.
you crave for the smallest moments. the brief second where you’ll catch his gaze. the way his cologne will subtly linger in the hallways of his home. your eyes have a habit of drifting to his hands, those strong, veined, tattooed hands that move so smoothly whenever he speaks.
even now, in his car, as you glance at his side profile, there’s a ridiculous and almost cosmic sense of gratitude. like you’ve been chosen. blessed by whatever god to exist on this planet at the same time as him, to simply witness his presence.
it should be enough. it really should. but you’re a sinner. you’re greedy, wanting more. always more.
that buzzing sensation sticks with you throughout the entire day. the hours are packed with frantic energy, as you and areum run around in anxious over-organization, only for her own panic to rub off on you, making your movements quick and precise, as if every step has to be executed flawlessly.
and with all the chaos, he’s there in the back of your mind. mr. jeon. his presence is overwhelming, even when he’s not around.
he helps for a while, joining you in the backyard as you set up for the evening, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to the whirlwind around you. but then he disappears into his studio, retreating into his own space, leaving you to your tasks, and you don’t see him until hours later.
yet, you still feel him, as if he’s always near. his upstairs studio’s window faces the garden, and it’s enough to make you hyper-aware of your every gesture.
you straighten your back, slow your steps, each action more deliberate, because even though you don’t know if he’s really watching, it feels like he is.
getting your makeup, hair and outfit ready with areum does slightly ease that sensation off your chest. you love these moments with her. shared girlhood when you do each other’s eyeliner, the flutter of excitement as you zip up dresses, as you rummage through her closet, searching for the perfect piece to complete your look.
but even then, you’re brought back to the man working just a few rooms down the hallway. it’s astonishing how easily areum has access to everything she wants. the power her dad holds, the kind of wealth that makes life feel effortless in ways you can’t help but envy.
for her, money isn’t just something that buys things. it’s a silent force that shapes her world. she doesn’t have to worry about how much something costs or wonder if she’ll ever have enough. it’s as simple as snapping her fingers.
it must be nice to have that kind of life. to have someone like him in your corner, with wealth that seems to fall into place as easily as leaves from a tree. you don’t resent her for it, not really. but it makes you wonder what it would be like to live in a world where nothing is out of reach.
where everything, even the man who haunts your thoughts, could be yours with the right words or a simple gesture.
when you see him again, you’re standing in his kitchen. areum is still upstairs, fixing the tiniest details to her makeup, but you decided to come down early, just in case the first guests arrive, wanting to be helpful, wanting to keep yourself busy.
you’re momentarily lost in the view outside the window, the backyard garden bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights, their soft hues blending beautifully with the sage and pastel yellow decorations. the setup looks like something out of a dream, and it pulls a small, unbidden smile to your face.
the quiet peace is interrupted by the sound of a cupboard cracking open behind you, and you startle, your heart giving a quick jump.
you turn, following the noise, and there he is— jeongguk, bent over as he retrieves a bottle of red wine from the lower cupboard.
as he straightens up, bottle in hand, he finds your eyes already staring in his. he’s uncharacteristically deliberate as he still lets his gaze wander up and down your figure.
you’ve dressed carefully for tonight, choosing a flowy pink dress that flutters delicately against your thighs. the corset top hugs your waist in all the right ways, accentuating your shape, the kind of dress that makes you feel just a little more confident, a little more seen.
but now, under his gaze, you feel exposed, like he’s seeing more than just the fabric of your dress. his eyes linger longer than usual, and when his orbs dip to your chest, it’s almost as if he hesitates, like he’s trying to tear his eyes away but can’t.
you’re not even sure if the engrossed look on his face is real or just the product of your own twisted fantasies.
still, your body responds instinctively, your hand drifting up to play with your necklace, an unconscious gesture, while your other arm wraps around your waist, as if you’re trying to hold yourself together under the intensity of his stare.
when his eyes return to your wide ones, he gives a subtle nod towards your dress, and the smile that curves his lips is warm, but you can’t decipher that something else it wants to communicate.
his voice is smoother than you’ve ever heard it, as if literal honey, sweet and rich, is dripping out from his pillowy lips, “what a beauty. you look very pretty.”
you weren’t expecting that. it steals the breath from your lungs. it’s not just the words, or even the way he says them, velvet wrapping around your senses.
it’s how he seems to drink you in, his refined wine nothing in comparison. like you’re something to be savored just as carefully.
at this point, you’re seriously questioning if there was a stronger substance in the liquor you and areum shared earlier, even if you hadn’t taken big quantities, each small sip burning your throat and making you grimace at the sensation. but you figure it must have been enough to distort the current reality around you. or maybe, mr. jeon is the inebriated one.
you don't know how you find the voice to speak, or if you even do, the word escaping your lips in an uncoordinated mess, almost imperceptible, “thanks.”
he hums deeply in response, and it vibrates through the space between you. you let out a shaky exhale the moment his gaze finally shifts away. he resumes the task at hand, effortlessly opening the bottle of wine and turning his back to you as he reaches for a glass from the higher cabinet.
the muscles in his shoulders shift under his shirt, and for a split second, you’re unsure what to do. whether to stay, add anything else, flee the room entirely. make small conversation about areum’s birthday. comment on his look, too. oh, you have a lot to say about it.
you can tell he just wrapped up his work-related tasks for today from the way the first three buttons of his white shirt are opened, revealing his deep cleavage. his hair slightly tousled, but in a way that looks purposeful, perfectly intentional. his slacks hug him deliciously, rounding the curve of his ass and making you swallow hard.
your eyes can’t resist trailing over him, but they quickly move up to stare at the ceiling, feigning deep thought when he turns back to face you, and the counter.
surprisingly, he’s the one to break the silence first, again. the rich sound fills the air as he pours the red wine, the motion so precise, so fluid, it feels like witnessing an authentic art form.
he doesn’t bother looking up at you as he asks, seemingly casual, but slightly amused, “is there a boy you’re trying to impress tonight?”
the way he steers the conversation makes you less agitated, more confident. especially with the question thrown your way. teasing, almost belittling. you can see he’s not even trying to hide his pretty smirk, his focus on the wine flowing into the glass.
the question lingers, and you twirl your necklace around your fingers, smoothing down your dress with your other hand, your eyes flitting to his naked left hand, “mh… you could say so.”
of course, you’re not thinking about a boy. mr. jeon is no boy— he’s a man. the kind women dream about but know they’ll never find. the kind that belongs on the big screen or in the pages of a novel, with his effortless charm, his wealth, his looks that stop you in your tracks.
but he’s in front of you. and he’s tall, muscular, with hands that could crush or caress, tattooed in a way that makes your mouth dry up and water all at once.
it’s him you want to impress. you want to affect him the way he affects you, with effortless intensity. you want to pull him in, make him look at you the way he makes your world tilt on its axis with just a glance.
you’re hypnotized as you witness him in one of his rich man activities, performing a ritual with the wine glass. he brings it to his nose, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the aroma.
there’s something so practiced, so sensual in the way he handles the glass, the liquid dancing with delicate precision, as if even this simple act holds meaning. you can’t look away.
when he's satisfied, he finds you again, and your mouth is slightly open without you even realizing it. the moment he lifts the glass to his lips, you bite your own, almost harshly, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.
his smile is soft, but there’s something unsettling in its honesty, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.
he mutters into the glass, his words resounding even stronger, “well, he’d be a fool not to fall for you.”
the implications of his comment make you swallow audibly, while he downs his first sip of the wine with fine ease, his adam’s apple bobbing with it. the whole time, his eyes never leave yours.
a thick silence stretches between you, and you wish you could break it but you don’t know how. your mind spins with the unspoken tension, but he seems entirely comfortable with it. the only sound filling the space is the quiet hum of the house.
he places the glass back on the counter, the soft clink of it slicing through the quiet. smoothly, he nudges it in your direction, his movements slow, as if testing the waters.
his voice is inviting, even more than usual, “you want some?”
”is that wine?” you instantly cringe at the way you sound strained.
he hums, a low sound of affirmation, watching you carefully.
you briefly glance at the glass, “i’ve never had it.”
”try it, then.”
with a slow twist of his fingers around the base, he slides the glass toward you. as it moves across the marble surface, you notice how he rotates it imperceptibly, but purposefully, so that the side where his lips touched the rim is now facing you.
the gesture is subtle, but the intent behind it is clear. at least to your deranged fantasies.
there’s a faint lip mark where his mouth had been, and the sight of it pulls you in, making your pulse pound in your ears. you look back up at him, finding his gaze still on you, his expression unreadable but heavy with implication.
without a word, you lift the glass, your fingers wrapping clumsily around the stem. you bring it to your lips, your mouth closing over the spot his lips had just pressed on.
the wine hits your tongue— bitter, sharp, and unfamiliar. you gulp hard, the liquid burning slightly as it slides down your throat. your face scrunches involuntarily, a clear sign of distaste. the richness of the flavor is too much for you, and you can’t help but grimace as the aftertaste lingers.
he watches, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. when you set the glass down, he effortlessly picks it back up and brushes his fingers across the rim.
his tone laced with amusement, he asks, “like it?”
you shake your head quickly, trying to hide your discomfort.
his chuckle is low, a soft rumble that makes your stomach flip. swirling the wine gently, he muses, “i heard there’s going to be alcohol tonight.”
you groan lightly, slumping your shoulders, “ugh, i know.”
the endearment rolls off his tongue like a secret meant just for you, his voice dipping into something softer, more intimate, “make sure you don’t drink too much, pretty face. i’ll be around.”
just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your thoughts spinning. pretty face?
what just happened? you’re not sure, but you’ve definitely stepped into something dangerous, something you can’t quite shake.
it’s hard to do so, even as the birthday party kicks off. the energy in the backyard shifts as more guests arrive. lively voices and unfamiliar faces begin to fill the space. areum’s laughter cuts through the hum, infectious and bright, drawing everyone in.
it all contrasts sharply with the weight still hanging in your chest from your earlier encounter with mr. jeon. your eyes keep darting toward the house, toward where you know he is, even though the logical part of you tells you to stop.
you stand at the entrance to the garden for a moment, taking in the scene. the subtle smell of flowers mixes with the faint scent of food, and your best friend bounces around the space, radiant in her dress. you’re genuinely happy for her, honored to share this moment.
and with your best efforts, you start engaging with others, smiling as you talk to some classmates and mutual friends, but it’s all surface-level. your mind is elsewhere.
it’s only later, as the evening progresses and the party settles into a rhythm, that you begin to relax. mainstream music plays in the background, and it inevitably involves everybody, as some classic party games become the main entertainment.
long after the cake and the gift-opening, the group gathers into a loose circle, throwing each other never have i ever questions.
you can’t help the way you all still feel like teenagers deep down, and how you get foolishly excited whenever the topic gets hot, and hints at anything that is sex related.
childish and immature, you know, but your ears still perk when the first probing question is tossed out.
“never have i ever been fingered.”
areum instantly shushes it, her eyes panickedly looking back to the house in hopes her dad isn’t around. laughter bubbles just as quickly, both because of the question and the girl’s reaction.
as expected, many reach for their drink, and you do too. the few present boys holler in a teasing manner, gaining some eye rolls.
sheepishly, the plastic cup touches your lips and you take the smallest sip from your punch. you can’t appear unbothered like your other peers, your cheeks subtly flaming as the embarrassing memories rush to your mind.
it’s silent, the small plea you telepathically send to anyone that might be listening. you pray for the topic to shift to something else, something that won’t inevitably put you at the center of the attention. something you can relate to.
but of course, god is not on your side. the questions only dig deeper, wandering in uncharted territory (at least for you), and you never reach for your glass again.
you can only sink further in your chair as everybody else around you seems even more lively with the way the game has turned, sharing their experiences, giggling as they listen, refilling their cups.
beside you, areum buzzes with energy as every question is just something for her to drink to, nothing that shocks her or that she isn’t familiar with.
never have i ever given head.
never have i ever been ate out.
never have i ever rode someone.
it’s undeniable, the way your skin heats up. with how you’ve been spending your whole day, fantasizing about the man who’s probably already asleep in his bedroom by now, your friends sharing their adventures only fuels your imagination.
you feel dirty when you put yourself in those scenarios, and for every daring moment they relive, the figure that appears beside you is always mr. jeon.
if only you turned your head, just for a moment, and glanced toward the kitchen window that faces the backyard.
you would have seen the same man dominating your thoughts, staring intently at the scene unfolding outside.
jeongguk is hidden in the shadows, the darkness of the house swallowing him whole, with every light turned off. maybe that’s why neither you nor areum notice him.
you don’t see him. you don’t feel him. you’re too caught up in the moment, too consumed by your own desires, unaware that the man that put you in that same condition is standing so close, watching.
jeongguk traces your every move with his intense gaze. he studies how your face dips down at every new question, how your smile seems just a little too tight, too forced when listening to the stories, the ones that make you shift uncomfortably in your chair.
if you don’t notice it, he does almost immediately— the way the attention in the circle shifts toward you.
the glances thrown your way become layered with a subtle curiosity, laced with something that looks like concern. but then, in the eyes of a few, jeongguk catches a faint trace of judgment.
it’s there, in the tilt of their heads, in the way they exchange fleeting looks with one another, as if they sense your unease and interpret it as something lesser. something they can pick apart.
his jaw tightens as he observes, that familiar protective instinct stirring within him. it makes his hands twitch by his side. he stays rooted in place.
eventually, the moment you clearly seem to dread the most (it doesn’t take a genius to know. it’s written on your face. or maybe, he got so used to studying you. it comes easy to him. knowing you,) follows.
it makes you want to vanish into the thin air caressing your legs, the way the question is put out with intent, an only pretending-to-be-careful tone wrapping it, all pairs of eyes instantly directed in your direction.
“never have i ever… had sex.”
you feel trapped, a momentary panic bubbling in your chest as you reach for your cup, hesitant. the rim hovers near your lips as you avoid every expectant glance, taking the smallest sip you can manage.
a murmur ripples through the circle. you can’t decipher it, too busy feeling the heat spread across your face. it’s only later that you realize no one else drank. the question had been crafted specifically for you, a silent test.
lara exhales, a teasing smile playing on her lips, “woah, i was getting worried for a second there, ___.”
you barely have time to react before areum steps in, her voice sharp in your defense, “what’s wrong with never having had sex, either way?”
“nothing, but—”
you’re not sure why you speak, and why you choose your speech that way specifically. you cut in before you even realize what you’re doing, driven by a sudden urge to explain yourself, an unshakable need to clarify forcing itself up your throat, “i only took a small sip, though.”
the group’s collective curiosity spikes, attention zeroed in on you like never before. you feel it— everyone waiting for you to continue, to reveal something you���ve kept to yourself until now. so, you give in, words tumbling out against your better judgment.
you clear your throat, straighten your back against your chair, your tone evasive, “i technically am not a virgin, but…”
the expectation drips from every person around you, their wide orbs trained on you, and for some reason you continue, gulping audibly before providing them with an explanation they don’t deserve, “when we— did it, he um… he got his tip in, but— god, this is embarrassing.”
“c’mon, tell us!”
you sigh, pressing forward with the humiliating truth, “he came, like, two seconds after. so, i felt nothing.”
the laughter that erupts is immediate, your friends covering their mouths in shock and amusement. you can only chuckle nervously, shrinking in your seat with a deep, liberating exhale.
yunjin pats your shoulder beside you, “that’s so sad, babe. we need to find you a real man.”
a strange sense of relief courses through you, the adrenaline from finally being acknowledged and validated by your friends swelling within, and you quickly learn how the buzz spreading to your body after taking part in sharing one of your experiences awakens you significantly.
you don’t know why, but you keep talking, oversharing, feeding into the newfound attention, “oh, i’ve been waiting for one in particular.”
you quickly become the center of attention for different reasons than the previous ones, now. their curiosity flares again, eyes wide with excitement as they beg for more details. who is it? tell us!
their voices overlap, but you dismiss them all with a playful shake of your head, giggles bubbling up as you try to evade their questions.
but just as quickly as the moment came, it fades when you glance to the side, and your smile drops.
jeongguk’s eyes meet yours immediately.
the intensity of the gaze knocks the breath from your lungs, the air thick between you as time seems to slow.
he’s been watching the entire time, arms crossed, the muscle in his jaw tensing as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. there’s a quiet frustration etched into his expression, a subtle irritation with your friends’ behavior. but it’s more than that. there’s something stirred by your confession.
your inexperience. your innocence. the untarnished parts of you he’s only beginning to realize he wants to corrupt.
the truth is, he’s known for a long time. longer than he’d like to admit, really. but he’s never let himself feel it fully until now.
it wasn’t something that hit him all at once. no, it crept up on him slowly, over the months. he’s always known you were beautiful, in that distant, untouchable way. you’re his daughter’s best friend, after all.
but he couldn’t help his eyes from lingering on you a little too long when you’d come over to hang out with areum, how his heartbeat would quicken up when he’d let himself be coddled by the warmth of your helping actions, the way his muscles would tense when he’d catch sight of you lounging by the pool.
he’d been good at keeping it under bay. but you weren’t subtle, not even the slightest. your fleeting glances, your breath hitching whenever he was near, your clothes putting you on display for him. it all made it harder.
even more when you’ve been nothing but the proof that angels exist, and at some point he convinced himself you were sent on earth to fill the void he felt his whole life, with your unconditional care towards his daughter and your pupils widening whenever they’d land on his.
and earlier, in the kitchen. he’s used to being in control, but the way you responded to his presence, to the compliment he gave you, had moved something deep inside him.
maybe it was seeing you tonight, all grown up and standing there in that dress, hugging your figure deliciously. how you carried yourself, confident yet unsure, mature yet untouched.
hearing you talk about your inexperience, about that brief, awkward encounter with a boy who clearly didn’t know what he was doing. watching you squirm under your friends’ teasing questions, witnessing how you tried to explain yourself.
it’s like it all clicks into place for him. and for the first time, he’s letting himself acknowledge it.
jeongguk wants you.
he knows it’s wrong. so wrong. he’s never felt this way about someone so much younger than him, and yet, the need to be the first one to truly touch you, to show you what it means to be wanted by a real man, makes his blood run hot.
it’s dangerous, the way these thoughts take hold of him now. maybe it’s the way you’ve changed lately, stepping into womanhood but still holding onto that wide-eyed innocence. or maybe it’s him. maybe he’s the one who’s changed, his resistance crumbling little by little.
he feels disgusting. selfish, his stomach swirling with nerves. dirty, his fingers twitching and begging to free his insides from such feelings.
but there’s simply no ignoring it anymore, no pretending like you’re just areum’s friend. that boundary he set in his mind is starting to blur. he’s old enough to know better, but old enough to know exactly what he wants.
your eyes widen with terror, meeting jeongguk’s own hardened gaze. he wants to tell you, wants you to know, but the way your startled expression lingers in his narrowed eyes makes him hesitate. it fills him with uncertainty, an unfamiliar feeling, one he rarely contends with.
the moment is abruptly interrupted when one of areum’s friends, an older guy she’s met through her dad’s colleague, crashes into you from behind, draping his weight over your shoulders.
you struggle not to stumble forward, holding yourself on the arms of your chair while you look to the side, and immediately try to pull away when you realize the unwanted proximity.
but it’s hard, you’re weaker than the boy’s embrace, holding you still and wiggling his eyebrows, his tone playful as he ruffles your hair, “is it me?”
the people around you laugh, the sound light and carefree, but the way your body stiffens, the clear discomfort in your eyes— jeongguk notices.
and he also notices (reluctantly) the ugly feeling making space in his stomach the more that guy’s face moves closer to yours. his jaw twitches, the muscle at his temple ticking.
he can’t just stand there doing nothing anymore.
the sudden sound of the door to the garden opening catches everyone’s attention, and your gaze flies over in that direction.
jeongguk steps out, his presence commanding, and your expression drops. areum’s eyes grow wide, instantly sensing something wrong in the way her father is looking at the scene. his eyes are too dark, too sharp, and if no one else detects it, you and his daughter surely do.
still, the taller boy behind you moves up again, taking a step back from your seat, and jeongguk seems to reserve him a look you find hard to decipher. it’s firm, heavy with a warning.
“areum,” he calls, his voice calm but edged, and it sends a shiver down your spine.
she’s quick to move toward him, and you can’t help but try to listen in on what he’s saying to her.
but the voices of your friends rise again, loud and boisterous, filling the space with chatter, drowning out any chance you had of overhearing.
you sigh, and when you return to your slumped position on your chair, you can’t ignore how all the girls around you are sneaking glances at him, their giggles piercing through the air as they whisper among themselves.
jeongguk has always had a certain effect on people, and tonight is no different. you hear some of their comments, but they don’t fully register in your mind.
all you can focus on is the bitter feeling rising in your chest.
you bite the inside of your cheek, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. it sickens you, the way you have to share the image of him with everyone else.
you wish only your eyes had been granted the gift of looking at him, of admiring the way his shirt stretches across his chest or how his hair falls perfectly, even when tousled.
but instead, he’s a spectacle for everyone to enjoy, and you hate it.
when areum returns, she’s slightly slumped over, her energy deflated. behind her, mr. jeon stands with his arms crossed, a small, condescending smile tugging at his lips.
areum’s voice is low as she announces, “the party’s over, guys.”
the subtle groans of disappointment echo around you as your friends try to protest, giving up when met with no possible negotiation. they then gather their things, saying their goodbyes and slowly trickling out, only after trying to argue about it.
once the last guest has left, it’s just the three of you, left to clean up the remnants of the night in the dimly lit garden.
jeongguk barely looks at you. his focus is elsewhere. on the mess, on areum, on anything but you.
as you bend down to gather some empty cups, you steal a look at him again. he’s helping clean up too, though his motions are deliberate and slow.
it’s silent for a while as each one of you picks up their own task. teamwork seems to be efficient, every area of the backyard slowly regaining its original aspect.
until areum yawns dramatically, stretching her arms above her head as she makes her way over to you and her father. she mumbles, blinking heavily. "’m so sleepy."
jeongguk raises an eyebrow, glancing at the still-messy garden, some leftover cups and plates scattered across the tables, and the chairs strewn about from the night's festivities.
he teases lightly, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "oh, really? you’re just gonna leave all this mess behind?"
for a moment, the weight of his words hangs in the air. you and areum both freeze, glancing at each other with wide eyes, unsure if he’s serious. the pause is brief, but it’s enough for tension to rise in your chest.
but then, jeongguk’s lips curl into a soft, knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“just kidding,” he chuckles, his tone warm now, the joke clear. “go sleep, c’mon. it’s past your bedtime.”
areum sighs with exaggerated relief, rolling her eyes before stepping forward to wrap her arms around her dad in a loose hug. she mumbles into his chest, “i’m not a kid anymore, dad. i don’t have a bedtime.”
he chuckles with a lightness that was foreign to you until that moment, and he leans down, pressing his lips gently to the top of her head, his voice low and tender as he whispers, “whatever you say. happy birthday, reumie.”
it’s such a simple moment, nothing grand or elaborate, but the intimacy of it, the quiet affection between father and daughter, makes your heart clench.
you watch them with stars in your eyes, completely captivated by this rare portrayal of vulnerability from mr. jeon. he’s always been the composed, collected man in the background of areum’s life, but here, he’s just a father, brimming with love for his daughter.
you almost feel like an intruder witnessing such a private exchange, but you can’t pull your eyes away. every detail — his hand softly resting on her back, the delicate warmth in his eyes, the way his voice softened — it all paints a picture of a side of him you’ve rarely seen.
you want to be part of it, too. want to bask in his love, the one he keeps hidden but the same one that shapes him whole. that fills him from head to toe, never spilling, always quiet. makes him the brave man you only know through your best friend’s admiring eyes, never from his words.
he doesn’t like talking about himself, but you’d kill to know what truly goes through his mind, even for just a second. you’d gladly find a house in his brain, and you’d pay rent and everything.
when areum finally pulls away and turns to you, her expression sleepy but content, she asks, “you coming with me?”
you hesitate, glancing at the mess still surrounding you. you speak with a small, reassuring smile, only looking at your friend, “i’ll be there in a minute. i wanna help clean up first.”
she just shrugs, already too tired to argue, and heads inside. jeongguk’s eyes follow her briefly before flicking back to you.
his lips part as if he wants to say something. maybe to insist that you shouldn’t stay, or that you should go inside too. but the words never come. instead, he watches you silently for a second longer, before turning his attention back to the garden.
now, it’s just the two of you.
the quiet between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. the subtle hum of the night seems louder now without the chatter of party guests, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze fills the air as you move around the small round tables, readjusting the chairs.
you’re trying to focus on the task at hand, but your mind keeps drifting back to mr. jeon. to the protective edge in his tone earlier, to the way he’s been looking at you tonight.
but then, in your distraction, you clumsily trip over your own feet, your breath catching as you stumble forward.
before you can fall, though, a strong hand grips your arm, steadying you instantly.
“oops. careful, little one,” it’s jeongguk’s deep voice murmuring close to your ear, the warmth of his touch grounding you.
your face flushes immediately, the heat spreading across your cheeks and down your neck.
“sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him through your lashes, feeling ridiculously small under his intense gaze.
“it’s okay,” he instantly replies, his tone so gentle it almost makes your heart falter.
silence falls again, but this time, it’s thicker, and maybe even uncomfortable. you both remain still for a moment, his hand loosely gripping your arm, and you feel yourself burn where his fingers rest. his thumb brushes your skin lightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture, but it’s enough to make you gulp audibly.
finally, he releases you, stepping back slightly, but his eyes never leave yours, "thanks for making my daughter happy today. i really appreciate that. i appreciate you."
the words catch you off guard, your breath hitching at the sincerity in his voice, deeper, almost too revealing.
your mind races, trying to find the right words to respond, but all you can manage is a stutter, “oh. i—”
his voice is firmer when he gently cuts you off, “go sleep now. i’ll finish here.”
you want to protest, but the way he’s looking at you — his dark eyes locking onto yours, holding you in place even with his hand now by his side — makes it impossible.
there’s something about the way he’s speaking, like he’s being careful with his words, almost spelling them out, making sure you’re paying attention to each one, “if you need anything, you know where to find me. yeah?”
you swallow hard, nodding slowly. his gaze is unwavering, and it feels like he’s saying something more than just the words themselves, something you can’t quite grasp yet. you stammer, “right. yes. i—i’ll… goodnight.”
“goodnight.”
it’s not exactly a good night for you. in a sense, maybe it is. you always welcome dreams like these when they decide to visit. but right now, it feels more than a little awkward.
worst timing ever. you’re lying next to areum, the daughter of the very man who’s making you wet with just a few flashes of imagery dancing behind your closed eyelids.
at first, it’s soft, almost serene. you see a beach, engulfed in warm, blurry tones that blend together like watercolors left to bleed in the sun. the sea is flat, unmoving, and glimmers like pearls under the flaming light.
a weight presses down on your exposed thigh. the sensation feels so vivid that it pulls you deeper into the dream, and as you glance down, you instantly recognize the large, familiar hand resting there.
jeongguk’s hand. his left one. on the fourth finger, a gold ring.
when you lift your head, his face greets you with a wide, unusual smile. his hair is wet, slicked back as if he’s just come out of the water, droplets clinging to the tips.
but the softness of the look he gives you is replaced by something more dangerous, more daring. he bites his lip, and you see it.
a double piercing sits on the side of his mouth, the silver studs gleaming as he plays with them using the tip of his tongue. your breath catches in your throat. you don’t just see it there.
on his eyebrow, a matching piercing catches the sunlight, giving him a rebellious edge.
you remember them from old pictures areum showed you once. jeongguk, in his younger days, rougher, wilder, and undeniably charming.
it must have left a deep impression on you because your subconscious has dug it up now, weaving it into this dream. deep in your slumber, you unconsciously whine.
his hand kneads the soft skin of your leg, and his grin stretches wider, eyes crinkling into familiar crescents, but with an edge you’ve never seen on him before.
"you wanna take another bath?" his voice is husky in your ear, filled with suggestion. he’s leaning in now, closer, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin.
your throat feels dry, your pulse quickens, and before you can say anything, his hand slides higher, fingers grazing the hem of your swimsuit. his breath fans over your face, and suddenly, the sea behind you isn’t the only thing that feels like it's burning.
"come on. just you and me."
before you can even think to answer, your surroundings shift. the beach, once hazy and peaceful, morphs into something more private.
you’re no longer in the open air, but sitting at the border of his pool, both your feet grazing the warm water.
jeongguk’s hand is still playing with the laces of your bikini, and he’s slow and teasing as he pulls one of them. when he fully undoes it, you’re bare in front of him.
but he doesn’t look down just yet. he keeps staring in your eyes, his smile gone now, replaced with something more serious, more focused.
jeongguk leans closer to your ear, his lips brushing your lobe, and it feels way too real when he whispers, “let me make you feel good.”
it’s with a jolt that you wake up, the low sound still echoing in the depths of your brain, and you struggle to take in your surroundings at first.
on your right, areum is sleeping soundly, even snoring softly. you'll tease her about it in the morning.
but if the thought initially puts a smile on your face, it morphs into a frown when you register the reason why you’re now awake, and you brim with guilt.
you have to get away from your best friend. need to get away from your brain, if possible. wash it all with a glass of cold water.
you make sure not to cause too much noise as you slowly sit up, the covers falling from your figure and the air welcoming you with goosebumps on your skin.
your naked feet tentatively touch the ground and you force yourself to stand on them, padding on the floor and exiting the room, gently closing the door behind your shoulders.
at first, you only hear it. faint, muffled noises; fussing; heavy panting; groans.
you blink rapidly, convinced your hazy brain is still cozily wrapped around the blankets, finding it hard to let go of the images that had flashed behind your eyelids and adapt to the new state of consciousness.
but as you make your way to the stairs, the sounds get closer, and more vivid. it’s not just your mind playing evil games, anymore.
it’s shushed moans, and eager whines. and they seem awfully close to how you’d always imagined mr. jeon would sound like. in that situation.
having lost control over your own brain a long time ago, it feels like you’re now being ordered around by it, no freedom of choice whatsoever.
your feet move on their own, following the source of that delicious music, and you swear your eyes get teary with joy when you find that the door was left ajar.
you feel delirious. the small gap is more than enough to give you a view into what you never thought you’d have the honor of witnessing: the man of all your desires has his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing it, then dragging it up and down in slow movements that you just know are torturing him, from the way he harshly bites his lower lip, to the way his furrowed eyebrows almost meet at the bridge of his nose, eyes focused on his doings.
nonetheless, he loves it. his mouth opens every time he brushes the tip of his thick dick with his palm, releasing small whines, followed by quiet moans when he uses his other hand to play with his balls.
he cusses repeatedly, then grips his base and halts his movements. only to go over the punishing pattern again, bringing himself closer to the edge then retraining when he feels like stepping over it.
the sight of mr. jeon edging himself makes your knees weak. it takes over you physically, you genuinely have to find support in the wall beside you.
you need to be there with him. you need it to be your hand; need him to guide it just the way he likes it; need him to teach you how to please him. his groans make your head spin, and you need to get closer.
you’re not thinking when you instinctively take a step towards the slightly open door, but when you do, the floor cracks under you.
you’re paralysed. in the silence of the house, wrapped in night time, the otherwise small sound is amplified, and he stops his hand.
with the little power you still possess over your actions, you move your back to the wall beside the door. your breaths are ragged, too overwhelmed with the mixture of fear and lust, and you think of running away to hide but a huge weight is chaining you down, and you find yourself unable to move.
you can only register fussing from the other side, the soft thump of his feet on the floor and the door opening alarmingly. when he looks to the side, he’s met with his expression mirrored on your small face, your eyes wide but willing themselves to keep looking in his.
if you were to look down, you’re not sure you could keep yourself composed, knowing his cock is hard and unattended in his pajama pants.
“___? what are you doing up?” his voice quickly takes on the calm that characterizes him so well, instilling some of it in your startled figure.
still, you stutter all throughout your answer, making it clear what you just spied into with the way your face changes color, “i— water. i wanted— there’s no, huh, water in the fridge.”
mr. jeon does a weak job at hiding the confused amusement on his features. nonetheless, he nods, a small grin on his lips while he says nothing, just walks to the stairs and makes his way down them. you follow hastily, careful not to trip.
there’s plenty of water in the fridge, but he doesn’t question it. he takes out a bottle and pours a glass for you, sliding it over the counter.
you take the smallest sip, afraid you might choke with the way he stands facing you, staring so intensely into your orbs.
when you put the still full glass down, he smirks. you see his hands gripping the edge of the table in front of him, “nightmare?”
the depth of his voice translates into heat pooling right in your lower stomach and staining your shorts. you’re a mess just from the blurred sight of him. you shake your head, “more like… a weird dream.”
he smiles fondly, having to break the prolonged eye contact and look elsewhere, his grip getting tighter and his patience wearing thin.
he won’t be able to control himself much longer if he doesn’t get out of this kitchen, especially with the effects of your effortless charm flooding down his pleading dick.
you’re in front of him, eyes full with a feeling that scares him, only the counter dividing your bodies, and you’re wearing the tiniest satin shorts paired with a white tank top that leaves little to the imagination, the cut dangerously low and your nipples evident through the material.
he’s a gone man.
his eyes no longer anchoring you, your gaze automatically travels to where you shouldn’t be looking, for your own sanity. but the outline of his cock is so delicious, it makes your mouth water with want.
you’re not sure if it’s your own eyes deceiving you, but you swear you can see it throb, and at that moment you realize he’s not wearing any underwear. just thin, loose pants covering his length.
you gulp, clenching around nothing. you feel him sigh, and the sound makes your head spin with greater force.
he looks back at you, but you’re too enthralled by your current view, the effects of it almost completely shutting out your hearing and your rational thinking, as you round the counter and leave his words hung in the air, “i’m sorry for… what you probably saw. should’ve closed the door.”
apology silently dismissed, or simply ignored (why would he even apologize for blessing you with such an unforgettable sight?) you now stand next to him. as he turns to you, you’re faced with his chest, and you have to bend your head upwards to meet his curious eyes.
your body has long forgotten to trust the thin amount of rationality that could still be found in your brain, and that’s how you find yourself leading your hand to cup his cock through his pajamas.
his face is stoic, staring at you intensely. he doesn’t startle, doesn’t gasp, doesn’t move away. but you feel him. if the contact does something to him, he doesn’t show it. he keeps looking down at you, in your eyes.
then, he speaks, his voice steady, “what are you doing.”
you’re suddenly aware of your actions, and you fall victim to them, feeling small because of his stern, composed gaze while you melt under it.
your voice is frail, barely a whisper, too weak to sound as convinced as you truly are, and your words come out slurred, “wanna help you.”
he doesn’t break, doesn’t seem affected by your desperation, but his pupils are blown out, knuckles white from grasping the counter, “you already did enough.”
your hand is still on his dick, unmoving. no one dares break the moment, though. if anything, being this close to him, feeling him while you both search for something in each other’s eyes, is only spurring you further.
you get on your tip toes, your perky nipples brushing against his chest, your voice low while you tilt your head to the side, “what were you thinking of? i’ll be that for you.”
immediately, his hand flies over yours. he doesn’t move it, just holds it still. the look in his eyes is a lot darker, his eyelids droopy, his jaw clenched, “stop this.”
the electrifying spark that buzzes you the moment you feel his skin travels from your hand to your whole body, and it significantly weakens you.
you don’t know if you fall to your knees because they genuinely give up on you, but it’s how you find yourself facing his hardness, your eyes never leaving his glossy ones, highlighted by the dim light shining through the curtains of his kitchen.
“___. get up.” there’s a tremor in his voice, and the hand that was blocking yours now falls by his side, twitching.
you see it in his eyes. sense it in the tension of his muscles. he’s holding back. but you don’t want him to resist you.
“please,” your beg is muffled and quiet, your nose brushing against his length and following a torturous path that makes him hiss.
he groans deliriously, willing himself to tear his orbs off your big, pleading ones staring up at him, but he doesn’t do anything to move you away.
“fuck,” the chuckle that follows is feverish, his body on fire with the forbidden, but so wanted touch, “don’t make me have to reject you, doll.”
“you don’t have to,” you’re unexpectedly quick in your answers, your conscience coming back to you but letting it be taken over by a dark feeling, the one that makes you kiss his tip through the thin material, and lick along his length, finding his eyes, “i want you.”
jeongguk inhales, his lower lip bleeding with the harsh biting, and he swears his knees are shaking with the effort of keeping even the slightest, thinnest thread of sanity intact.
he wishes he could stop you. knows he should. but he can’t. he can only watch as your slim fingers hook under the hem of his light pants and lead them to pool down his ankles.
the way his cock springs free and brushes your smooth, pure face makes him huff out a deep exhale, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed as he takes in your eyes widening at the sight of his length.
mr. jeon is long. and thick. he’s veiny, and perfectly shaved. it looks almost unrealistic, but he’s in front of you in all his glory and he throbs. leaks pretty precum to coat his angry tip.
he doesn’t know how he manages to speak, especially when you look up at him through your droopy eyelids, pupils blown and tongue ready to take him.
his voice is rough, as if it wants to stay stuck in his throat, but he forces one last warning out, “___. don’t do it.”
any and all kinds of inhibitions are nonexistent the moment you attempt a kitten lip at his wet tip, and the simple action makes his head fall backwards, a way too loud growl escaping him.
his breaths are heavy, broad chest moving with them as he looks down at you again, too tempted to look elsewhere.
he curses as soon as he does, his lust-filled orbs swimming in your equally craving ones, and he believes this view is crafted by the hands of a god, not slightly comparable to anything his mind came up with back in his room, not too long ago.
the reason why he’s gotten rock hard under his covers, it’s you. the yearning he couldn’t suppress anymore, the hunger making him salivate, the need to be consumed by your love, the desire to be touched by you, to be cured by your innocence, only to taint it.
he’s thirsty, wants to drink all of you in. wants to finally have you, taste you, feel you. he’s tired of fighting it.
jeongguk doesn’t know how to decipher his heart doing literal flips in his chest when you fully take his cock in your mouth, and he lets out a sound he’s never heard his own self ever produce.
it’s high-pitched, whiny, delirious, and it leads himself to subtly push himself forward, to bury his length in your throat.
you inevitably choke at the new sensation, your eyes fluttering shut to keep the tears welling up under your eyelids from spilling out, but you go relentlessly, just as hungry.
you tentatively bob your head up and down his length, messily taking him as best as you could, probably accidentally scraping him with your teeth a few times, and you try to make up for it with your swirling tongue, slurping thirstily.
he almost coos at your eagerness, and as badly as he wants to bask in the sensation, having to keep himself from pounding into your mouth, he holds your silky hair in a ponytail and gently pushes you away.
when you find him again, your eyes are glossy and your eyebrows drawn up with worry.
you don’t want this moment to end. you don’t want your insecurities to be proven right, don’t want him to ward you off, to still think of you as nothing more than a childish girl with an evident crush. you’re on your knees for him to finally see you.
jeongguk instantly reads your thoughts.
his voice is quick to sooth you, a sweet smile painting his face with an expression you rarely see on him. it’s soft, just like his voice, “come up here, angel.”
you want to listen to him, want to follow his every order. but you’re not sure how to when he’s regarding you with a care you’d never thought would be directed at you, one that empties you of any strength. when the pet name rolling off his tongue that easily seems so natural, you want to think it’s all he’s ever seen you as.
with a delicate tug at your hair, he leads you on your feet again. but you’re weak, your chin falling on his chest as you look at him through your lashes like he’s hung every single star in the sky.
his hand leaves your locks only to cup your face, promptly helping you stand straight to study your features.
if he didn’t know better, he’d say you’re high off the strongest substance you could find. your pupils cover your orbs in a dark, wide circle, a lazy smile on your pink lips as you let yourself be handled by him, no control over your body, almost falling over his bigger one again before he steadies you by your hips.
he lets out an amused chuckle at the state you’re in because of him, and he hopes you know just how much you’re affecting him, too. he wants to swallow you, pill after pill, overdose on you.
when he’s sure you don’t need his help keeping you still anymore, leading your palms to rest on his wide shoulders, he takes your face in his big hands and forces you to swim in the intensity of his gaze.
his words are spoken slowly, a low whisper fanning over your lips, “if i kiss you now, i won’t be able to control myself anymore.”
your eyes jump relentlessly between his own orbs and his mouth, the latter winning the battle when you fixate on it, and speak just as weakly, “please, kiss me.”
you barely manage to get the words out before jeongguk is all over you. he devours you, pushing your lips open and finding your tongue, playing with it in a mess of slick and heavy breaths.
his fingers travel through every angle of your body they can find, pulling your face impossibly closer by your nape, leaving goosebumps along your bare arms wrapping around his neck, falling down your torso and squeezing harshly as they rest by your sides.
your moan is inevitable when his palms reach down the curve of your ass and shove you against him. you feel his hardness meet the softness of your lower belly, his wet tip poking at it and making him hiss on your lips.
he does his best to swallow all your sounds, your muffled whines and whimpers his favorite meal as of now. it’s a wince of slight pain that you let out as he positions you in between his body and the counter, the border pressing on your lower back.
when he moves from your kiss, even with your lungs being unable to breathe anymore and begging for a break, your head follows his movements to try and bring him back on you again.
the chuckle he lets out is almost belittling, the right side of your face being completely engulfed by his palm to put distance between your mouths, his other hand keeping you still by your waist, and his own hips push against you.
you quickly glance down to where your bodies meet, and you whimper when you take in the way his cock is just above your core, his balls brushing against your clit. you only need to lift yourself a little forward to fully feel him.
but it’s like he instantly knows what’s making your head spin, his grip tighter but still mindful not to hurt you. the sudden squeeze has your eyes finding his, feeling ridiculously smaller under the weight of his heavy gaze.
he makes sure you keep your whole focus on him, and as much as registering the way your orbs are glossy with anticipation and desire is making him almost regret his next words, he lets them out, steady but soft, in your face.
“you had your fun, baby. now, you’re going to listen to me. hm?”
this time, your reaction comes promptly following his request. you’re hanging from his lips, tracing their every move and sound, immediately nodding at the order.
but it’s not enough, and jeongguk ensures to sound a bit firmer, ”use your words.”
”yes, mr. jeon.”
the way your response rolls off your tongue with seemingly no hesitation, your pupils still on his, the words you choose to say, make him let out an amused chuckle.
your eyes widen, and he drinks in your state, cheeks flushed and lower lip trembling. you need to bite it in order for it to stop shaking when he narrows his eyes, his left palm rising from your hip and finding its way under your top, his remark making you startle, ”you’re such a bad girl. aren’t you?”
jeongguk makes up for the way more tears seem to well along your bottom lashes by cupping your small breast in his larger hand, swirling his thumb around your nipple, and you need to fight against the loud moan traveling its way up your throat, the chocked sound getting stuck as your mouth hangs open, your eyebrows furrowed.
but it only takes some more of his degrading tone for you to let out an unashamedly loud noise, his fingertips pinching your nipple, ”calling me that only because it gets you off. doesn’t it? you’re not so innocent after all, princess.”
he quickly swallows your sounds with his lips on yours, and both of you can’t help but hum lowly at the contact. jeongguk thinks he could keep kissing you for hours on end. but he badly wants to feel every other inch of your body, too.
unexpectedly, the kiss gets broken when he turns your body around with ease, your back now pressing against his front, and you steady your shaking figure by planting your hands on the counter.
the access to your ear comes effortlessly, he just needs to bend his head down to cover your height difference and make sure his whispered words meet you as close as possible, “i’ll give you what you want. but you need to be quiet and good for me, understood?”
you’re not sure if you should use your voice or stay silent, but your body doesn’t give you the chance to ponder over it before letting out a whiny yes. you’re not exactly being quiet, but can he blame you?
the man you’d get to talk to for more than five minutes only in your dreams is now promising you he’s going to give you what you want. and his cock is perfectly nestled in between your ass cheeks. you’re positive you’ll have to throw your shorts right in the bin after he’s done with you.
though, the scoff resounding in your ear makes you regret not even trying to lower your volume. you really want to be good for him. don’t want to disappoint him.
that’s why when he taps two fingers under your chin, without him having to express it for you, you part your lips open, tongue out. from the corner of your eye, you see the side of his face scrunched with a long dimple before he shoves the digits inside your wet mouth.
you instantly wrap yourself around his thick fingers, coating them in your warm slick, and you can tell it’s affecting him with the way the hold on your hip tightens, and he shifts between your thighs.
with your tongue swirling around the two digits, your eyes search for his face. looking up at him through your lashes, you clench around nothing when you take in the effortless way he towers over you, his body engulfing your whole smaller figure.
the sinful eye contact leads him to spur you on further, his voice rough with desire, “that’s right. suck on them like you would my cock.”
you hum deeply at the encouragement, fluttering your eyelids shut as you energetically bob up and down along his fingers. you think you can still feel the taste of his precum lingering on your tongue, and you whine, wishing you could have him again.
the noise gets cut from your throat when he forces his digits out, the slicky sound lustful, and it makes him groan lowly.
with his other hand, he delicately pushes your head forward to bend you over the marble counter, the same one where hours ago he passed you his glass of wine to take a sip from.
the surface is cold against your cheek and he’s out of your vision as he stands straight. not being able to see what he’s doing, the expression on his face as you lay folded for him, makes the anticipation flood even stronger in your veins.
you feel him pull your shorts down enough to reveal yourself to him, hear him hiss as he’s enthralled by the way your pussy glistens, all for his eyes to admire.
the curse that follows is instant, “fuck. no panties?”
you’re embarrassed for your straightforward bareness, whimpering at his surprise with your fist tightening and your nails imprinting crescents in your palms, but you’re also so impatient to feel his touch.
tentatively, you wiggle for him, hoping to brush against his length, but it’s to no effort as he instantly stills your movements with a hand on your lower back.
he scoffs incredulously, feeling your bare ass against his palm, “it’s like you knew this would happen. you dirty, naughty girl. always giving me those eyes.”
it’s light, the spank that meets the side of your butt, but you gasp nonetheless. you need to bite your lower lip harshly in order to suppress the loud moan from escaping your throat, and you’re sure it bleeds when he softly strokes the spot he hit.
the hand soothing you now travels to your front, torturously putting pressure on your sensitive stomach and following a slow pattern, only to reach your wet core.
he finally touches you where you’ve been needing him the most, and you both groan when he uses his already soaked pointer and ring finger to spread your lips, his middle one tracing your slit.
you inhale deeply as he repeats the motion, and when you exhale you can’t help small whines from leaving you, the pleasure already too overwhelming.
you feel like passing out when his body weight presses on you again, his mouth directly on your lobe, the intention in his voice dripping on your skin, “you think i wouldn’t notice? you know how hard my cock gets everytime i see you in these tiny clothes of yours, huh? you’re quite literally the death of me, doll.”
then, it’s like all your senses come back to you the moment he pushes his digit in, and he immediately reaches around you to put his other hand over your mouth the second he sees it opening, your eyes rolling up.
you scream in his palm, the sound muffled with his fingers tightening under your jaw, his body still leaning on yours.
he whispers sweet nothings in your ear and stills his middle finger inside you, getting you used to his presence, “shh, princess. good baby, you’re doing perfect.”
the contrast to his earlier shaming tone only makes you whine more, your eyes squeezing closed to try and keep the noises in. you’re sure you bite his palm when he starts moving inside you, the finger curling tentatively and soon being joined by another one.
you shake your head weakly, feeling yourself reach delirium, and you manage to stammer out, “can’t— can’t do this.”
“you can baby, c’mon. you wanna be a good girl f’me, don’t you?” his tone is still low, warm breath fanning over your nape, and you melt under the sudden change in attitude.
you nod, not because you believe you can actually get through this without your heart failing and the whole neighborhood hearing you in the process, but because you do want to be his good girl.
“say it.”
“wanna be good— your good girl.”
he hums, “that’s right. i need to stretch you out if you want to take my cock.”
you choke in his wrap, now looser around your face, surprised at his words, and you clench hard at the mention of his cock inside you.
you throw your head backwards in search for more of his proximity, and you mumble nonsense, your brain completely melted, “yes! want your dick.”
“i know you do, little one,” with your head nestled between the crook of his neck, his hand now falls to your throat, and he holds you gently by it while his fingers pick up a faster pace.
he’s ruthless as he moves them inside you, effortlessly finding your sweet spot with a curl of his long, tattooed digits, and you whimper at the foreign sensation, unable to moan like you really want to.
you feel like screaming the more he keeps going, the only possible reaction to what is happening to you. one moment ago you were dreaming of this, and now it’s your reality.
mr. jeon is fingering you and calling you his good girl. his large figure is behind your smaller one bent over the counter, his palm around your throat, his hard length pressing against your ass.
the moment he uses his thumb to flick at your clit, you arch your back into him and you hear him fight to suppress a surprised moan.
“shit. you’re so impatient, sugar. dripping around my fingers. wanna taste your sweet juice, can i?” it’s a rhetorical question, hushed slurredly in your ear, because after he lets it out his fingers leave your hole, and find a new home on his warm tongue.
he purposefully moves your chin to make you a witness of his sinful action, humming deeply around the taste of you, his eyes fluttering shut, his digits popping out drenched.
your mouth hangs, your tongue unconsciously peeking out as if asking to be made a participant, but jeongguk only smirks and stands straight once again, his wet hand leaving another light spank on your ass cheek, “turn around, sweets.”
you do as asked, making sure your palms are still steadying your weight on the counter now behind you, afraid your legs alone won’t be able to.
but you soon find out you won’t have to put much effort into that when jeongguk lifts you with ease and sits you on the surface, your slickness meeting the cold marble.
you don’t have to lift your head to look at him anymore, your heights now the same. but finding yourself directly in front of his hardened gaze makes you feel even more intimidated.
especially when he traces your inner thigh, his eyes never leaving yours, “every time you stand up to leave after dinner, you always leave a puddle on my chairs. and i’m left to clean it up.”
you swallow audibly at the accusation, and you can feel your eyes water once again, biting your lips to conceal the shame.
he only grins amusedly at your state, the tip of his tongue coming out to play with his lower lip. the hand on your leg now forces it to move to the side, his face only getting closer to yours, his tone deeper, “i’ve thought about licking it up, you know? but then i always stopped myself, because i knew i’d get to taste your pretty, wet pussy.”
you gasp, a shaky moan leaving you uncontrollably, and your fingers hover over his figure, wanting to find support in him but unsure whether to touch him.
he finds your mouth with a short kiss, almost reassuring, but he’s back to spitting sins the moment he lowers his face between your spread legs, and the way he looks up at you is almost scandalous.
he looks devilish, his orbs visible through his lashes, his tongue wetting his lips. he takes your uncertain hand and places it between his tousled hair, directing himself to you, instructing you how to use him.
he presses a peck above your clit, still drinking in your reactions, his smile wicked, “i knew you’d crumble soon. you little minx. going after your best friend’s dad. so naughty.”
your head is thrown backwards at his words, ones that only add to the pleasure that takes over you when he latches at your pussy, the wet sounds ungodly.
the shame and guilt mixing in the back of your mind generate a profane sense of bliss you’d never think you could reach, and even though deep down you feel dirty being confronted with the truth he sputtered out so easily, you can’t help getting off to it right now.
jeongguk is ravenous as he finds your drenched lips, lapping furiously at them and drinking the juice that continuously drips out.
he flicks the tip of his tongue up and down your swollen clit, and your hand that he himself put on top of his head now tugs at his curls, forcing him closer to you.
he’s trapped, your legs squeezing around his head, his nose nuzzled in your slit, and he can’t stop the hand that reaches to stroke his pleading dick.
you think you hear him mumble something along the lines of taste so good as he teases your hole with his wet muscle, and you’re a gone woman the moment you look down, your eyes fluttering open.
his own are closed, brows furrowed in deep concentration, his nose relentlessly grinding against your sensitive nub, and the way he seems so affected by the act of pleasuring you breaks something inside you.
you feel it begin to crumble when his tattooed hand reaches up to lift up your top just enough to expose your breasts, nipples hardening with the cold air and the stimulation, and they hurt deliciously when he starts kneading at your boobs, fondling them with care.
the deep hum generated from his throat vibrates against you, and the flick of his thumb around the center of your tit matched with the way your clit is being continuously abused unexpectedly leads you to your orgasm.
it’s fast, unannounced, and you find support in his hair, your body taking over your brain and relentlessly grinding against jeongguk’s face, suffocated between you, unable to stop reaching for the heavenly, and so awaited high.
your whines are frantically high pitched, but the moment he feels you cum all over his mouth everything around him disappears except you, and all he cares about is slurping you, drinking you as you let it all out because of him.
he pants, breathless, opening his eyes to witness your climax, to admire you breaking under his doings, chest swelling with pride and a primal sense of protectiveness.
when he hears you whimper the more he keeps sucking on your clit, your slim fingers pulling at his locks, he finally lifts himself up.
on the path he follows to come back up to meet your face, he finds your nipple with a sweet kiss, his tongue teasing your nub, and he smiles against it, teeth gently pinching it, when seeking with his eyes for your reaction he sees your own rolling back.
next, his mouth is on yours, smearing your wetness all over your lips and mixing it with his spit on your tongue, connecting in a frantic, hungry dance.
his forehead is on yours when he breaks the kiss, his breaths heavy, the lazy grin on his face the only thing you can focus on, hanging on his gentle words, “did so good, pretty. came so hard all over me.”
your eyes inevitably fall down to his cock, painfully hard against his stomach, the tip angry and slicked with precum.
you feel your core buzz, kissing him to conceal the unshameful desire building up so fast again, but still you can’t help from mumbling against him, “wan’ you to fuck me.”
the hum of pleasure coming from his throat reverberates on your lips, and he smiles at your confession. even chuckles, one hand resting at your hip and sliding you closer.
“that what you want, baby?” your legs wrapping around him, he kisses along your neck and travels down to your collarbones, leaving small bites to keep himself from marking you like he truly wants to.
he slips his palms under your thighs and lifts you off the counter effortlessly, and you squeeze your hold tighter around him in order to keep yourself balanced.
the new position has his cock perfectly meeting your core, your slit brushing against his tip as he walks you two over the living room couch, his mouth promptly swallowing your whimpers.
when he lays you on the sofa, he straightens himself to fully admire you. you’re sprawled for him, your hair framing your head like a halo, the sweat pearling your forehead adding to your angelic state.
your hands are on either side of your face, fingers dainty and slender, and your tank top is lifted up enough to show him your small breasts, slightly spilling from the sides.
your shorts still rest under your ass, and with a swift motion he fully takes them off you, giving him access to your center.
but the attention is taken away from your wet cunt when he lets his eyes come back up to your face, your cheek resting on your shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassment at his ravenous observing.
he smiles, becoming impatient with the feeling that only grows inside him, and he walks out of his pants still pooled down his ankles, taking off his loose t-shirt and letting it fall on the ground.
your eyes widen at his sculpted physique, now finally in front of you, his buff dimensions intimidating you, especially when your orbs follow his v line and put you face to face with his huge cock, so close to your watering hole.
he teases it with his length, sliding it up and down your slit, then slapping it against your clit. you arch your back, groaning.
“am i the real man you’ve been waiting for? you wanna be fucked by this big man, don’t you?” his sinful words only make you nod dumbly, becoming potty under his control.
at your eagerness, he wastes no time. aligning himself with your hole, he enters you. the stretch is deliciously painful, his tip boldly splitting you open for him.
he knows your wail is coming, so he lowers himself on you to block your sounds with his mouth. but he’s the one that needs to be silenced.
the moment he feels your tightness around his bare dick, he growls. his sounds grow more desperate as he sinks himself deeper, the grip on your waist enough to wreck you, and you’re expecting it to leave a mark.
you hum roughly against his lips, your nails scratching along his shoulder blades in search for any kind of grounding you can find.
it’s too much, his dimensions way oversized for what your hole can take, and the fact that you can’t help but grip him even tighter isn’t helping.
he reads you, your broken whines and the tear falling from your left eye, and the moment he bottoms out he stills himself, his face in the crook of your neck, his nose nuzzling the warm skin in a reassuring manner, “shh, baby. i got you. let me make you feel good.”
the whispered words are the same ones that jolted you from your sleep, the dream almost too real, and paired with his middle and ring finger circling your sensitive nub they cause you to emit a pleasured squeal, your chest arching into his.
at this point, you’re afraid you’re still trapped deep in your slumber. that none of this is actually real, it can’t be.
you’re so convinced that it’s just too good to be true that you test it, scraping your nails harshly in his back, and when he bites the skin under your jaw in protest you gasp shakily.
it’s definitely real. jeongguk is fucking you. almost. not yet.
with the way your clit is being stimulated by his long fingers, the initial sharpness turns into more slick, and you impatiently groan, “fuck me, please.”
one final kiss is left on your lips before he lifts his torso up, his hands roaming along your sides and grasping a hold of your tits.
he teases you with a playful smirk on his face, your disappointed pout only resulting in a devilish chuckle from him as he massages your soft boobs.
but you can feel him throb inside you the more you swallow him in, and you know he’s just as impatient. you buck your hips up in search of friction, and the sudden motion makes the both of you moan.
he’s suddenly resolute as his palms fall to your waist and effortlessly hold you up as he begins fucking into you. with each stroke he picks up his pace, and he’s soon pounding your tight hole wrapping around him.
the two of you soon find out it’s impossible to be quiet. your sounds are stuttered and pornographic, and it makes jeongguk afraid he’s never going to be able to get them off his brain.
his own noises are heavenly, deep growls and surprised whines falling out his pillowed lips, slightly agape in bliss, brows drawn up.
your eyes roll back and never come back, your vision patched, and you think you weren’t build to survive this kind of pleasure. it’s almost deathly when he finds that one particular spot that makes you see stars.
your skin slapping is louder than his hushed speech, but he makes sure the words reach you and translate into wetness coating his length even more, drenching it, making it soaked in your juices, “that’s how you need to be fucked. that’s how my girl needs to be fucked, hm?”
“mhm, fuck, yes!” it’s breathless, but you want him to hear you. you feel yourself get closer just watching him smirk proudly at your state, his pupils blown out.
his palms are back to playing with your breast, kneading it harshly, and you enjoy the way he seems to be hypnotized by the vision, “fuck. love your tits. fit just right in my hand. you were made for me, princess.”
your head is thrown back between the cushions, your legs wrapping around his ass and pushing him even deeper, the anticipated sensation building simultaneously in both of your trembling bodies.
“i’m not gonna last long, baby. this pussy’s too tight. trappin’ me inside it,” jeongguk’s voice is rough, the words leaving him slurredly and all his effort put into snapping his hips against yours, his eyes focused on the relentless in and out motion.
you wail, mumbling nonsense, but at the same time the most sincere words you’ve ever sputtered to him, “it’s yours, jeongguk. f—fucking yours. forever. ah— fuck.”
he hums, feeling you contract around him the more he speaks to you, “that’s it. my pussy to fuck, angel. mine to play with, mine to fill up.”
your eyes widen at his territorial remarks, and when they meet his hazy ones they water with overwhelming ecstasy.
the possibility of his cum filling you up is what does it for you, your nerves undoing once again and making you spasm around his throbbing dick.
he talks you through your abrupt orgasm, praising you for cumming so good all over him, drinking in your blissful sounds and your hips rutting against his.
he’s just as close, and the realization that you came the moment he mentioned painting you in his seed makes him a crazed man, his motions stuttering sloppily, “fuck. aren’t you a naughty one, doll. you really want me to cum inside you? you want it, huh? i bet you do.”
your repeated nodding and the way your body is so pliant in his hold, letting it be completely handled by him with no functioning muscle, pervades his senses with a primal force that he puts all into fucking your sensitive cunt.
he smirks wickedly, “you’d look so pretty. all stuffed. want me to fill up this tight pussy? want my mature cock in so deep you can’t breathe?”
you think you scream at his continuous suggestions, but you can’t be sure when all your senses are clouded, the oversensitivity turning you into a literal doll for him, no power over your actions.
he looks just as fucked out, his lips parting as he basks in the feeling of being in control of you, his eyes fighting to stay open and keep you in his vision.
when he feels you contracting around him in overstimulation, his breath stutters and he feels himself reach the peak, quickly pulling out of you to spill his cum over your naked skin.
you gasp at the sudden emptiness and the warm liquid that keeps falling over your stomach, his cock being pumped in his fist and milked from all he can give you.
you both pant in exhaustion, your legs loosening their grip around him as he dips his weak knees on either side of you on the couch.
he hums when he fully takes in your figure, marked by his cum, and he smiles when he sees your eyelids struggling not to fall.
but you spasm once again when you feel his finger slide over your stomach, the wet liquid being collected, “now, you gonna clean this up for me. open your pretty mouth, baby.”
you don’t even ponder on the request, you just follow the order. your brain is reduced to thoughts that are only related to him, and it automatically complies to anything that he asks from you.
you engulf his digits promptly, swallowing his semen, looking up at him through your lashes and unashamedly clenching at his lazy smirk.
he makes sure every drop of his is collected and sucked by your hungry mouth, smiling when you don’t ever complain, “mh, good girl. get them neat.”
when he’s satisfied, he hovers over your face and finds your tongue in a sensual, slow kiss, both of you moaning at the exchange.
with a sloppy sound, he parts from you only to disappear between your thighs, his eyes mischievous, “gonna clean you up, too.”
you gasp at the feeling of his mouth wrapping around your core once again, slurping your juice and lapping at your inner thighs, and you’re not sure how this is going to help in getting you clean. you only feel yourself becoming even wetter, if possible.
leaving a kiss above your nub, he straightens up with a boyish smile softening his features, and with the fond way he’s looking at you, nobody could tell he just made you cum twice.
he moves your bangs from your forehead, closing the distance between you once again to leave small pecks over your still reddened face, “you did amazing, doll. made me cum so hard.”
you hum contentedly, snuggling closer to him, your body unconsciously gravitating toward his warmth. your hand lifts to thread through his hair, but before you can touch him, he shifts, pulling away.
the warmth he provided vanishes, replaced by the cold emptiness of the couch. panic surges in your chest, washing away any remnants of fatigue. you prop yourself up on your forearms, eyes tracking his movements.
you don’t want him to leave you here alone, bare and vulnerable, maybe a bit confused and uncertain, and deep down deathly scared of whatever will come after this.
your brows furrow, heart picking up a painful speed when you see he’s getting dressed—tossing on his shirt, pulling on his pants. and for a second, your heart clenches with dread. is he leaving?
but then you notice him picking up your shorts from the floor, his expression softening as he walks back to you with that same gentle smile that had made your heart flutter earlier.
relief washes over you.
he handles you delicately, as though you’re something fragile. his fingers brush your skin as he slips your shorts back on, pulling down your top before encircling your waist with his strong arms.
you squeal lightly when he pulls you onto his lap, settling back on the couch with you cradled against his chest. his hands never leave you, securing you to him.
you settle into him easily, sighing in appreciation as the warmth of his body returns, your legs draped across his lap, arms circling his neck.
for a brief, fleeting moment, everything feels like it’s in its right place, like this is where you’ve always belonged. it feels so natural, so easy, being wrapped up in him.
his deep, slow breaths lull you into a state of calm. his chin rests on the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing strokes along your spine.
you press even closer, breathing him in, feeling like you could get used to this, like you already have. like you’ve always known this is where you should be.
your fingers trace absentminded patterns along his tattooed arm, the one holding you secure under your legs. you feel the need to look at him, to admire the man that marked you as his.
but when you glance up, you’re a bit startled when you notice the shift in his expression. his face is hardened, jaw clenched tight. he’s not relaxed like he was just moments ago. his gaze is distant, staring intently at a spot across the room as if lost in thought.
yet his hands continue to cradle you, almost unconsciously, like holding you has become second nature to him.
but his mind is a whirlwind of emotions, and they only scatter all over the place as he feels you move closer, impossibly so.
you seek warmth, care. nuzzle your fragile body against his for protection, something more that he fears he can’t give you. love.
he once thought he’d drained himself of it, had nothing left to offer. but now, with you in his arms, the smallest spark flickers to life, burning its way up his throat until it feels like it’s going to consume him.
he wants to give in. he wants to hold you tighter, trap you against him, keep you with him. give you love.
but he can’t do that to you. can’t make you go through the same path that took everything from him. not without ruining you in the process.
he knows what comes next. love turns into suffering. it’s inevitable.
and could he survive seeing the look on areum’s face if she ever finds out? how would she react if she knew the truth about what he’s done, about how he feels? about how he truly wants to act upon his feelings?
the thought makes him feel sick, even as his heart beats steadily against yours, comforted by your presence.
but why doesn’t he feel disgusted? why isn’t there shame gnawing at him, making him pull away? there’s only bliss. the sheer joy of having you this close, of holding you like this, makes him forget everything else.
he wishes he could be immature, for once. wishes he was your age, and that nothing truly mattered. that he still could allow himself to make stupid decisions.
maybe then, you’d feel right in his arms, and reality wouldn’t catch up to him.
“jeongguk? are you okay?”
your soft, honeyed voice pulls him from his spiral, and he startles slightly, caught off guard. his eyes meet yours, wide and filled with concern, searching his face for answers.
he tries to hide the storm brewing inside him, forcing a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “huh? yeah. i’m okay.”
of course, you don’t believe him. an ugly feeling makes space in your stomach, and the weight of everything begins to press down.
you don’t want it to take over you just yet, want to be coddled by the illusion a little more, want to try and believe there’s nothing to be afraid of.
you offer a tentative smile, hoping to ease whatever tension is growing between you. “you… you seem worried.”
“i’m not, baby. i’m just thinking.”
“about?”
“stuff.” his voice is clipped, and the small wall he’s building between you becomes clearer.
the distance stings, and your heart sinks as you try to hold onto the moment that felt so perfect just a second ago. desperate to reach him, you place your hands on his face, tilting his chin down to meet your gaze.
your eyes jump all over his, but you manage a genuine, if small, smile. “you can tell me, you know. you can talk to me.”
one simple, small smile spreading across his lips makes you doubt all of your worries. it makes you want to believe that maybe, there’s truly no reason to be scared. that maybe, this can go well.
“i know,” it’s whispered on your face, his hand coming to play with the hair that frames your cheeks sweetly. “let’s get you to bed now, hm?”
before you can protest, he’s lifting you off the couch with ease, cradling you in his arms bridal style as if you weigh nothing at all. you clutch onto him.
you feel your insides fuzzy with the gesture, and you wiggle yourself closer in his embrace, looking up at him expectantly, “your bed?”
it breaks his heart having to disappoint you, tone firm as he tries to make up for it with his thumb brushing your thigh, “no, baby. you gotta go back to areum’s room.”
“but— but… i wanna sleep next to you,” you plead, your voice small and almost childlike as you pout up at him, hoping to sway him.
he looks away, focusing on the stairs as if looking at you would break his resolve. “we can’t, dove. you know we can’t.”
his words feel like a punch to the gut, and your voice hesitates. “we can’t?”
the silence that follows is louder than any answer he could have given, and it weighs heavy between you, suffocating. there’s no actual explanation to it, and the realization leaves both of you uneasy.
at areum’s door, he sets you down gently, making sure you’re steady on your feet. he’s careful with you, like he always is, his voice low, “go wash up. i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“no…”
“c’mon, sweetheart. don’t make this harder.”
you frown in protest, keeping eye contact, but he doesn’t break. his gaze is steady, resolute.
you want to argue, want to push, but the exhaustion settles over you, and you slump, defeated, but you still sway sweetly for him, your hands tied behind your back, “okay… can you kiss me?”
your voice is small, muffled behind your pout as you seek for him with anticipation, a shy smile making its way on your lips.
when he doesn’t move closer, you get on your tippy toes and lean in his direction once again, your eyes almost fluttering shut before you hear him clear his throat, and take an awkward step back.
you’re back on your heels with a thump, the same one reverberating in your chest with your heart falling, your mouth hanging open with confusion written all over your expression.
you go to say something but he’s quicker, his voice solemn, “goodnight, ___.”
jeongguk smiles, but it’s nothing like the ones that took over his whole face just minutes ago on the couch, his eyes full of you. you’re not even sure if you can define it as a smile.
it’s polite, almost too polite, and it only results in feeling tremendously distant from him. he’s completely disconnected from you.
he retreats, long legs carrying him away, his back to you as he slips into his room. the door clicks shut behind him, the sound final, and it echoes in the hollow space.
you stand still, the weight of his absence pressing heavily on your chest. the spot where he left you feels like a grave, your feet sinking into the cold floor as if it’s pulling you under. the warmth he offered, the fleeting sense of safety, is gone, and you’re freezing.
you try to breathe, but the air feels sharp, your throat tight with the effort to hold back the tears welling in your eyes. it’s useless, though.
your bare feet shuffle against the floor, but you can’t move forward. you can’t go back. you can’t do anything except stand there and feel the weight of it all crash down on you.
you’d been so afraid this would happen. how could you have been so foolish? even in the midst of the sweetness, you knew it was too good to be true. a part of you always knew.
and yet, you let yourself believe for a fleeting moment that something real could come from it. that you could be enough.
you’d have done anything to prove it to him. to show him your loyalty, your willingness to make it work. you still would. you’d give him every part of yourself, if he’d only take it. if he’d only look at you the way you want him to.
the full weight of your reality sinks in. in the end, none of it was truly real.
a sob breaks free from your chest, raw and painful. the sound echoes in the quiet hallway, bouncing off the walls that now feel oppressive, like they’re closing in on you. this house, every corner, it’s all stained now, tainted by the lie you let yourself fall into.
and you? you feel tainted, too.
#this is what i’ve always dreamed of baby#never too much I NEED MORE#thank u Always!#t💌y#📂.fic: older
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don’t kiss and tell
brothers best friend!jisung x fem. reader
after the incident of your brother finding out you hooked up with one of his friends, you promised to yourself to never look out for him anymore. but who says he’ll give up on you that easily?
wc. 2.8k
warnings. smut (mdni), jisung is down bad, body worship like crazy in here, tit sucking, fingering, ass slapping, unprotected sex
part 1 for context here <3
IT HAS BEEN one whole month since you last talked to jisung. one month since you saw him probably for the last time in a hot minute.
the last few weeks have been extremely unusual; you keep questioning yourself how was he doing, if he's even ever going to appear at your house again to hang out with you brother, like he always did. he's probably not.
and fuck jaemin, fuck him for screwing your bond with him. it's useless, pure jealousy and he's so stupid!, stupid for being this mad with one if his best friends of years, simply because he thinks you're still a child.
on the other hand, jisung is being not so subtle in the way he still wants you. he keeps liking the pics you post on your instagram stories, sometimes even replying to them. and it's the sad fact you're not giving him a single reply.
his mind wanders to the thought of you being already completely over him, wanting to distance yourself fully right now, thanks to your brother.
but your heart knows that's not what you want, and it keeps giving you a warning that the next time that you see him, these feelings will come back stronger than ever.
you miss him. so bad, thinking about him makes you sick.
you're laying in bed, scrolling quietly through your phone when the damn notification appears. why does he keep trying? you sigh out loud.
the__and.y liked your stories.
you ran your hands through your hair, turning off your phone to stare at the ceiling to collect your breath. you can't, your brother is still furious with both of you.
jisung ♡: why do u keep ignoring me in every existing social media
is he really going to do this? at this late at night?
jisung ♡: i miss you
you kept reading his messages and not replying. you didn't contact him for a month.
maybe, just maybe, things may have gotten lighter with jaemin. perhaps he's not really remembering this whole thing, yeah?
you: i'm sorry jisung
you: idk if this is right i really don't know
you: im confused
you turn off your phone again while waiting for his reply. let's give it a try.
jisung ♡: why wouldn't it be right
jisung ♡: jaemin can't control your life, you can do whatever you want
hm.
you: i felt bad that day and he's still so mad with you
you: idc if he's mad with me, he's my brother at the end of the day
you: i worry about you and how hes fucked up your friendship
jisung ♡: baby you know what's fucked up
jisung ♡: you trying to convince yourself that you don't want this because of him
jisung ♡: say to my face that you don't want it
you want this so fucking bad. to be in his arms again, and the thrill of being with him behind closed doors. god, that's all you want in every way.
you: ji
you: i want to see you
jisung ♡: that's right
jisung ♡: i've waited for this princess
jisung ♡: waited so long
you: i need you
you: i don't care anymore
you really don't give a fuck - your brother can hold his protectiveness instinct for himself, he actually can. you can't control what your heart aims for.
and it screams for park jisung.
"you can't ignore him forever, you know that?"
"who says I'm ignoring him? I texted him yesterday saying he should come this weekend." jaemin huffed, acting oblivious to the fact that the only reason why he invited jisung over was because of the boys' annual end of year party.
chenle deadpans at him with his stare, letting out a chuckle, "if you didn't invite him I would've done it myself." he paused, turning his head to look at the man, "that would be bullshit."
bullshit. jaemin swore he almost threw chenle out of the car in the harshest way possible - clicking his tongue in pure annoyance, "yeah, it was just fine when he fucked my sister behind my back."
"i'm pretty sure they did not fuck."
if you didn't then why were you both half naked. in his car. at your backyard?
"i'm telling you, I saw it. she was literally on top of him and she was fucking moaning his name, chenle. that's fucking wrong." your brother spat while still not looking at his friend - eyes focused on the road.
chenle keeps going, "cut this off, jaem. you can't see her as a baby anymore. let her live."
jisung is indeed coming to your house again - sooner than you thought. but it did take some days for you to find out, tho. you brother wasn't the one who told you.
in the same day, the last messages jisung sent you before you went to sleep.
jisung ♡: dress up prettily for me tomorrow
jisung ♡: will you?
you: what??
you: you're coming???
jisung ♡: jaemin told me to go and yeah i didn't expect it as well
jisung ♡: dreaming of you again
jisung ♡: kissing your sweet lips holding you so close to me
jisung ♡: it'll be all mine princess
you: go to sleep ji
you: silly
jisung ♡: i'll show you what's silly tomorrow
—
the sound of the boys laughing and loud pitching talking in the living room did quite mess with your head, anticipating the moment when he comes. it's crazy how you got so dolled up for him only, he's the reason why you're even going out of your room this night.
if it wasn't for jisung, you'd probably just greet the guys and come back to your own quiet place, drowning in your thoughts, alone. just like you always used to do before he appeared in your life.
a knock was heard on your door just right after you finished your makeup. unexpectedly, you meet a very tipsy jaemin.
"what the fuck is this outfit?" he spats, crossing his arms in front of his chest - his body unbalanced. for a split second, you closed your eyes and thanked all the existing Gods under your breath. he's drunk.
you smiled, "felt pretty today. you smell like beer, don't talk to me."
"hey, hey, hey." he grabbed your arm before you could close the door and kick him out, "come say hello to my friends. don't be rude."
you fixed your hair and outfit and went to the living room, being find with chenle, jeno and donghyuck's figures sat around the big table, nestled with all the different kinds of drinks and alcohol.
your breath hitched when jisung was nowhere to be found.
after greeting the guys, you decided to wait in your room - not sure on how, or when will jisung get there and you'll finally get to release all of your wants. show him how much you miss him and vice versa.
not much time had passed before another knock was heard on your door. you were sprawled on bed, dim lighting decorating the ambient.
"come in."
you said that because you thought it was your brother. jisung carefully opened the door, eyes peeking first to check on you.
that scene truly felt like a movie. you slowly got up, a smile starting to pop up in your lips as you walked to him.
your voice trembling, "hi, ji."
you opened the door fully for him to enter your space, he wasted no time to step in and pull you into a hug.
a mess was happening in your head, so ridiculously dizzy from him - the masculine smell of his cologne filling your nostrils, his hands holding your body flush to him while yours gripped his black t shirt, so simple and casual but yet made him look so attractive.
or maybe that’s just because you miss him a lot.
jisung leaned away from your embrace, gently taking your hair out of your face while holding eye contact - hands flew to your hips.
"you look gorgeous. more than ever."
your arms secured their hold around his neck, feeling your cheeks burning red from his words, "just for you." you announced.
he nodded, "all for me."
you both smiled like two idiots in love as he leaned down to kiss you, mouths melting so sweet at first - tongues brushing here and there, hums being heard throughout the kiss, "so pretty in this dress." he mumbles in between.
his back hits the door as he closes it, left hand leaving your hips for a mere second just to lock it. making absolute sure that no one will be able to interrupt.
jisung grabs a hold of your thighs to help you walk further into your room, so familiar to him.
all the times you've sneaked out, when jisung slept by and left jaemin's room in the middle of the night when he was in a deep sleep. all behind his back with so much carefulness.
when he lays you down he's quick to trail his wet kisses down to your neck, firm hands caressing your whole body, going up and down in motions.
you arch into him, playing with his black hair strands as his face rests on your chest, meanwhile his lips keeps smooching your hot skin.
you sigh in contentment, knees pressing together - trying to give him a sign that you're needy, so painfully needy for him.
"jisung i want- mhhm" your words get cut off by your own whine when his hand grabs the top of your dress to pull it down, hanging it just below your bra.
"don't want to take your dress off.. youre looking too beautiful like this." his deep voice quietly said.
you smile at his sweet comment, holding back all your whines combined with the feeling of his fingers messing with the lace of your white bra, throwing your head back with no shame when he pulls the fabric down to expose your breasts, still not taking it off your body.
"so pretty, princess. i could admire you all day."
cool air is fast to hit but it's soon replaced by jisung's hot mouth, circling your breast with his tongue, hand massaging the other while his mouth does wonders on your soft flesh.
when he reaches for your nipple you whine even louder, his saliva pooling and soaking your whole breast when he sucks it into his warm hot mouth, humming nonstop.
"you're crazy ji-jisung."
"should i stop?" he teases, leaning his mouth away from your nipple and replacing it with his finger, rubbing it.
"no for fucks sake.. but I'm trying so hard to keep quiet." your voice trembled slightly.
jisung looks at you then laughs, “they’re so wasted right now, no one’s conscious in that room, love.”
you pout at him, he softly traces your bottom lip with his thumb before kissing you again, “I promise you, it’s okay. but I need you to tell me it’s okay with you.”
his soft and caring voice did turn you on even more, it shouldn’t, but it made you wetter. eyes holding so much love and appreciation looking at yours - “I want this. I want you, ji.”
jisung smiles one more time, giving you a nod and resumed his work, mumbling a deep “fuck” under his breath when he tested the waters, hand went under your dress to feel your core.
he pulled the ends of your dress up to your stomach, your thighs ridiculously pressed together. you should be ashamed of how wet you were, but you’re not, not even a single bit.
he gives your thighs a caress, “let me spread them, hm?”
your breath hitches when he brings your knees to your chest, spreading you all open and full for him. jisung mentally coos at the scene in front of him.
just like your bra, white lace panties with a wet dark patch decorated in the middle, like a gift for him. it drove him crazy.
“did you miss me that much, princess?” you can only moan as response when he touches the wet patch with his finger before pulling the lace to the side, holding it in place with one finger, while his middle finger travels up and down your cunt.
wet, so fucking wet, “fuck. love, i might cum just by looking at this.” he cursed and cursed again, eyes wide open and looking straight at your puffy displayed cunt, so wet just for him. he knew that and so did you.
“oh fuck baby i can’t-“ jisung’s fingers spread you open to admire you better - in love, genuinely in love with how your pretty pussy shines for him, glistening and begging to suck him in.
he leans down fast enough to give your clit a quick kiss, “can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is.” still caressing your core.
you moan his name desperately at his nasty but sweet comment, tons of whines and “jisung” ‘s leaving your mouth.
“ji please. want your fingers.” you manage to say.
“of course, gotta prep my beautiful girl.” he smiles, an expert finger circling your clit before diving down into your entrance. covered with slick, your cunt invites him just as soon.
experienced fingers pumping in and out continuously, you whine with your eyes closed at the sound of wetness.
jisung’s in complete awe, stoping his staring at your hole to kiss your face, first at the corner of your mouth, then at your lips, shutting your whines off.
“you’re perfect.” he leans away to say.
nothing’s more perfect in this world than the sensation of his long and thick fingers inside you, scissoring you and reaching the deepest and most sensitive spots ever. you’ll say that to him later.
you try to smile but you soon harshly bite your lip when he curled his two fingers inside, you yelped, “jisung! oh my god-“
he kisses you again, and again, until he’s satisfied and thinks you’re ready to take him. jisung’s fingers leave you empty, and you let out a cry - his eyes make their way to between your legs to see how you’re pulsating.
“never seen my princess this wet..” deep cocky voice says.
you reach out to take off your dress, “i’ve missed you.”
when your dress was discarded to the floor, he was quick to unbutton his jeans as they went to the same destination of your clothes.
you could see his erection through his boxers, and as much as you want to such him off right now, you’re needing him inside. now.
your panties were about to be discarded before jisung grabbed your hand and shook his head, “want them on, baby. s’ pretty. keep the bra too.”
knowing how he likes it with you, you turned around and pinned your front to the bed, arching your back and your ass in the air.
“fuck, just like that.” he pumps his cock at first, cooing you while you wait for him.
jisung’s hands flew to your back to arch it even more, then to hold your hips. he rubs the head of his dick on your entrance, how your pussy almost sucks him in just from the rubbing.
when he enters you, you let out a little too loud moan. hands clutching the sheets and tears filling your eyes.
he’s completely focused on how you keep clenching around him - the amusing view of your cunt sucking him all the way in, then out again.
your hips were pressed to his shaft, feeling him so fucking deep into your womb.
jisung coos again, “you don’t know how I’ve been dying for this.” he slaps your ass.
“jisung! jisung fuck, jisung.” you whine like a baby, lost in the pleasure. ass stinging from his big hand slap and cunt begging to be filled until you get sore.
“my love.” another slap, “fucking made just for me.”
his cock is so big and it leaves you like a babbling mess, so big that it almost hurts from how good it is, hits you in all places.
you both were getting closer, his thrusts started to get sloppier and messier, slower as he pulled away to release at your back.
your own release dripped down your pussy and thighs, while his hot cum painted your back down to your ass cheeks. what a scene.
“want them all to see this mess.. jaemin needs to see how you’re good to me.“ he admires the sight of your cunt clenching and unclenching around absolutely nothing but the air, “can’t believe you’re mine and no one can ever change that.”
you tiredly laid back on your back again, trying to fix your hair. jisung’s sweaty body joined you after tossing the dirty sheets aside, he breathes heavy, but still with that cute smile on his lips.
“do you think they heard something?.” you look up at him, voice low.
jisung thinks for a second, furrowing his brows, “i honestly don’t think so, baby. but you need to change these sheets..”
“of course i will, ji.” you laughed fondly. there’s still some questions hanging in the air, with what face will he come back to the boys?
“and if they ask you where were you this whole time and what were you doing…?”
“then i’ll just say that i was fucking the prettiest girl in the family and i don’t regret it.”
—
© 4chensungs
#hi there#park jisung#park jisung smut#park jisung x reader#jisung x reader#jisung nct#nct dream#park jisung imagines#nct dream x reader#park jisung x female reader#7dream#nct dream x female reader#nct dream imagines#nct dream smut#nct smut#4chensungs#jisung park
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i know every time we beg for angst you just make them happier and happier 😔 BUT i can’t avoid the visions! when it comes to arguments between Mac and Wu’kong, like Mac finally telling him that the distance between them hurts and that he (AND THEIR KID) (this would be when MK was a toddler or little kid) just need wu’kong back in their lives. Maybe even pulling out the big guns and referring to him by “your majesty” and “emperor” (maybe to be ironic or just genuinely hurt) did that even happen between them? I imagine max as being very confrontational but idk if that’s how you are writing him. (i can’t lie i just wanna see some real angst and hurt…….)
on another note YOUR ART STYLE IS EVERYTGIBG I AM IN LOVE it’s the default in my brain now when i read fanfics lol
I just can’t help myself in making angsty scenarios without making it funny, literally ask Arttrashking I only have funny bones in this body of mine
BUT that doesn’t mean there is no angst in this bad boy, I just like catching people off guard lmao
I don’t think there’s really a big distance between Wukong and Macaque in the AU but like I’ve said before a lot of the story gets fleshed out as I draft each comic part, not even I know what I’m writing until it’s on the page lol,,, I just know my beginning, middle, and end and im just running to those goals with each part
Will there be arguments? Definitely!
Will I be able to drag them along? Not likely.
I like my monkey with minimum miscommunication because I like taking typical angsty situations and making them really funny
(The amounts of angsty situations I have made funny is unbelievable, I have even managed to make the typical “he’s cheating with blah blah rumors”, extremely funny,,, I am simply having fun😌💅)
#lmk#sunset!au#ttm!au#time traveling monkey au#shadowpeach#lmk mk#lmk macaque#lmk sun wukong#I like my monkeys being confident in their bond#I answered someone’s comment a few hours ago#they asked about shadowpeachs divorce#and I realized people might think they’re actually separated lmao#sorry to disappoint but they are exercising their right to a long distance relationship💅#only MK is having a real bad time here lmao
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oneforthemunny proudly presents: two for the show (aka my two year anniversary writing challenge!!)
as a thank you to each and every one of you who have supported me (since funsonmunson and beyond) i have curated a prompt list that invites and encourages each and every one of you to write for my eddies! there is nothing i love more than getting to see your take on my fics, stories, and lore, and getting to read them! it’s such a treat for me and so rewarding, and so i hope you all participate!
feel free to do as many and as much as you want! multiple entires, prompts, hell, even make up your own! the more the merrier here! each will be reblogged and added to a masterlist for everyone to read and support!
rules: i kindly ask that you tag me @oneforthemunny and the writing with the #munnystwofortheshow just so i can find it and read, reblog for everyone else to enjoy, and add to the masterlist!
thank you all so much again! i love love LOVE each and every one of you, and have enjoyed every moment (yes, every moment) here on this blog with all of you <3
below are the prompts!! i can’t wait to see what you all come up with!!
note: i decided to do general prompts, since that’s what you all voted on. this applies for each and every eddie (a list of my eddie aus: older!eddie, bouncer!eddie, janitor!eddie, cop!eddie, cowboy!eddie, mafia!eddie, modern!eddie, dom!eddie, boxer!eddie, hockey!eddie, rockstar!eddie, and exhusband!eddie).
prompts:
prompt 1: so since it’s my tumblr anniversary, gimme an anniversary fic!! dating anniversary, marriage anniversary, engagement, adoption, pregnancy, “first time we fucked” anniversary- anything! make it fluffy, make it sweet, make it smutty, make it sad if you want? it’s all up to you!
prompt 2: i’m forever a domestic girly, you guys know that, so write me a little domestic fic <3 include the kids, the pets, moving in together, doing mundane shit together- make it a day in the life with eddie. the chill days at home, what do they look like? what do you do? fluff, smut, angst, a little bit of it all. whatever you want to do, just show me what you picture!
prompt 3: i get so so so many angsty requests, so i have to request one myself- break my heart. tear it to fuckin’ shreds, put it back together (or don’t). end goal is to have us all hurting. some example prompts- mafia!eddie getting hurt or vice versa, ex husband!eddie and a fight that led to the divorce, rockstar!eddie and rehab, for a few examples. use any of the lore you’d like, just make it hurt :’)
prompt 4: idk why, maybe it’s a guilty pleasure, but i love a vacation/road trip kinda story. love to know where they’re going, what they’re doing, why. honeymoon, summer vacation, a funeral maybe? whatever you want it to be! just tell me where they’re going, why, and of course all the other juicy details. road head, maybe? reader gets car sick way too easily (me)? or at the destination, what are they doing? going?
prompt 5: you guys knew you weren’t escaping a smut fic. c’mon, it’s me, evie lol. i want the sluttiest, horniest, nastiest smut i’ve ever read before in my life. jaw on the ground, reaching in my bedside drawer type smut. feel free to use the lore, use a prompt that was sent in and elaborate on it, rewrite your own favorite horny moment, or make one up! you guys know i’m a sucker for a spanking fic, but really, anything slutty and smutty will do ;)
prompt 6: this is also an evie indulgent request, i love holidays- as you all know. so i would love to see what you think each of the eddie’s or their reader’s favorite holiday is, and how they celebrate it. why they love it, what they do- the works. can be birthdays (for all the leos lol) or any holiday, really. make it fluffy, smutty, angsty if you want!
for anyone needing some examples or some ideas, always feel free to message me and i can help! :)
#oneforthemunny#munnystwofortheshow#writing prompt#rockstar!eddie munson#cowboy!eddie munson#mafia!eddie munson#older!dilf!eddie munson#modern!eddie munson#eddie munson au#janitor!eddie munson#eddie munson#munnytalks#boxer!eddie munson#dom!eddie munson#bouncer!eddie munson#cop!eddie munson#ex husband!eddie munson#hockey!eddie munson#eddie my love <3#eddie stranger things
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1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?
Hm. Just the umbrella term I prefer but perhaps otherkin in the sense of being some strange conceptkin and Divinekin who calls themselves angelkin over being this sensation of life and fate and existence as a whole.. I’m like- life. Just life. Life-kin, can I just say I’m me? I’m everything. Aaaaughehejjd also wolf therian. Beat me over that but also sometimes caninekin and like .. feeling like dogs depending on whatever mood I’m in and copinglink of a borzoi 💯
2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? sort of answered it in the above but I love lists. From highest relation to least (I vary quite often, and mostly am okay with being human except for a few rare instances and exceptions): Life and existence as a whole, wolf, a mutt/random canine, and.. some muskrat 😿 I love them but how the hell am I litterally a muskrat- OH AND I HAVE HUMAN PAST LIVES but I’m still confused over them. Like, some random guy with a car who loves the nighttime and was treated like shit, uhh.. about 80s/90s and in his 20s- maybe USA or UK, also USSR but not sure if it’s the same guy. Also a butler or someone of the sorts in another, just having a bunch of various strange jobs (or maybe it’s who I want to be.. idk I always struggle with knowing what’s my subconscious or what’s my soul)
3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?
Hm. Mostly mental shifts or something and the vague feeling of being a wolf but have had tail, ear, paw, and full body shifts. Also wings but they’re like random and in no way related to any identity.
4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?
Hm. I forget. Aha forgot- auh just being more understanding to those also like me and more connected to nature on an animalistic level and validating myself in my unusual-ness? Also sometimes craving the simple regressive state of being incoherent but understood, of being one with sensations and instincts but perceived by humans.. hehejdkjdhdhd
5/ What do you think of the community?
very nice! Also very sweet! Understanding of plenty, especially tumblr, but others may be more misinformed and rude elsewhere.. anyways just very sweet, good movement if I can call it that, it’s gained popularity definefely and for the better.
6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?
watching documentaries on canines, documentaries on ussr (don’t ask), forests and nature as an absolute whole (especially woodlands), and dog training videos. Fascinates me. Also being seen as a wolf. I used to go around telling people to call me Wolfy as a kid.
7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?
nope! Not really, and I find that great :)
8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?
trust your instinct and this vague feeling of feeling ‘right’ rather than any set of rules or expectations.
9/ Do you have/want to have gears?
eueuhsgghhwcomplex question. Next! Aha kidding but like.. I want metal claws, and pretty metal gloves over my hand. Whatever that is. Hm perhaps also a wolf mask? Mm.. I don’t really like gear though, too ‘out there’ for me. I got a tail and paws and ears tho, but REALLY want wings— also kinda fucked up I don’t glow. Would drink glow sticks to glow- aha kidding.. unless-
10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)
mine specifically? .. evolved from thinking wolves are mad cool then seemingly wanting to be a werewolf then really thinking I could become one (with my varying degrees of wolfness and humanness) then finding splice with being seen as a canine or with one, and turned quickly to ‘yeah I’m a person but being a dog or wolf would be so damn cool’ and searching immensely on caves near me with the idea I would go exploring and find a genie and wish to be a shapeshifter and then live in the forest and convince others I was human then in the privacy of my own presence embrace my instincts and dreams of being a canine and now it’s just. Confusion mixed in with ‘was I faking it??’ feeling and some sense of ‘but i like being human’ even with that same nagging feeling of sometimes just needing to be a dog for a bit to feel content in my skin and maybe it’s something leftover with my soul’s past life that I’ve gotten over or now transformed from being a childhood dream to merely related to the emotional state of freedom and being understood even with my strange behaviours and appearance that likely had been formed through having a nagging sense of not being understood enough even with being genuinely spoilt but trying to convince myself that nobody cared so I could excuse myself if I ever turned to drugs but then just finding ways to love and understand myself and finally realising that I am loved but sometimes my thoughts just aren’t understood because others have different views and then vowing to do my best to understand others and especially folklore creatures even after I- oh, have I went off script a tiny bit? Im wolf enough.
11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈
oh I’m an addict for answering this, thank you so much for tagging me! But.. I don’t know who to tag.. anyone who sees this! Perhaps @canines-crown ??
If you are a alterhuman, reblog and answer these questions!
(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)
1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?
2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)
3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?
4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?
5/ What do you think of the community?
6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?
7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?
8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?
9/ Do you have/want to have gears?
10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)
11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈
#My eepy ramblings#divine illumination#alterhuman#angelkin#divinekin#conceptkin#wolfkin#dog therian#wolf therian#canine therian#wolf theriotype#canine theriotype#therian things#caninekin#theriotype#therianthropy#therian community#my experiences
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Thinking of starting a au soon but idk what to write… I need to get my event over with first but yeah I was thinking in honor of my nickname dollish that I could do a dollish!au where like I guess reader is like maybe doll like idkkk && I really don’t know but I feel like a dollish!au would be so funny too and entertaining but just genuinely what kind of fucking world does dollish!au even work..🌚 LIKEE BAHAHAH I can’t see myself posting that so sorry but yeah so send me some au’s you want to see??
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I don’t like Jean. I don’t hate him or dislike his character, I’m just indifferent. I have no attachment to him. I think it’s because I wasn’t in the fandom, I didn’t know his character was a huge fanon character. So I didn’t consume any of the fic or fanart. I was totally caught off guard that he was a character getting his own series. He didn’t super stand out to me in the original books.
Even reading TSC I was just like eh. I guess I just don’t find him compelling or interesting yet. And I feel like whenever I look at fan content a lot of it (not all) is babying him? Which I know happens to a lot of characters so it’s not just specific to him. Idk it’s just hard to get into his character. Even in moments where his trauma was revealed I found myself not really connecting? I was sympathetic but I have no investment in him as a character outside of the trauma that it’s just like ‘damn that’s rough bro.’ Which could be by design since as a character he’s not had time to be a full person with substance or anything as he was so put down in the nest. So maybe that’s why? Agghhhh idk.
It seriously might change when I read book two. I don’t want to piss anyone off with this confession, I just kind of want to share since I haven’t seen anyone feel the same way. Most people seem to super love his character, and I would love to feel the same. He could just not be the kind of character I’m into. Nora is a great writer, I love her books and obviously I’m going to read the next two happily. I just think his heavy trauma isn’t enough to make me care about his character. Neil and a lot of the other characters have heavy trauma but that’s not why I was invested in them, it’s because they had interesting personalities. Perhaps Jean’s personality will come out more in book two, or I’ll just spend more time with his character and get a better grasp on it. I’d love to hear other people’s opinions on him as a character.
.
#aftg#aftg fandom#aftg trilogy#nora sakavic#the foxes#the foxhole court#aftg tsc#all for the game#aftg confessions#jean moreau
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most of the time i feel like im just an average person like i know im really lucky to be living my dreams working a job i love in the city i always wanted to live in like i know im a very lucky and privileged person bc most ppl don’t get any of that but most of the time i also forget it’s not just that like most ppl in my hometown never get out and don’t even go to college and like even in my family im still the only one to ever attend university and move to the city which is just crazy like it’s so crazy to me to think im not really average specially not where i come from which is idk so weird
#like we ran into this neighbour yesterday and he literally said he talked to his son abt how i went to college and now im living in the#city as some success story and as if that was something so extraordinary and it’s like. omg#like it was all just natural to me study a lot get into a good college get a job in the music industry move to the city#like i never gave it much thought i just did what i had to so to me it was never like this Huge thing any of it#and my mom was also telling me abt how her friends always bring me up in conversation to talk abt how ‘great’ i am while their children#just aren’t like 😭#like idk i just don’t really think of myself#so when me and my life are brought it’s like . wow ok#like in uni moving and going to college was the norm and in the city i meet so many ppl who moved to pursue their dreams everyday so#its also become the norm to me#so when im remembered it’s not the norm at all where i come from is crazy
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Rant incoming because I have THOUGHTS about this subject and I can barely restrain myself haha
I would disagree with that idea of it being on goyim, personally. Cause like when I think of ashkenormativity I think more of how my mum was embarrassed for speaking her mother tongue out in public in 70/80s Tel Aviv, how my grandma and her sisters were told by their Ashkenazi neighbours when they were little that them sitting on the floor to eat made them ‘barbarians’ so they cried and begged my great grandad to buy a table for them, how I always see people conflating Sephardi, Mizrachi, and literally every other Jewish diaspora branch as being one interchangeable thing, how there’s been not nearly as much effort to preserve non-Yiddish languages and non-Ashkenazi traditions pre shoah/expulsions in the wider Jewish community, etc. (sorry it got a bit long). So yeah, all very focussed on other Jews and Jewish society.
To me it’s a lot less about how Goyim see Ashkenazim as being the default, cause Ashkenazim are such a large majority of Jews outside of Israel and I don’t expect Goyim to know that much about Jews unless they’re involved with us in one way or another. It’s more about about the neglect that non-Ashkenazi subcultures get, and the historical revisionism that non-Christian-European host areas get (especially Jewish history in the Islamic world) to always be less intense and way more tolerable than in Christian Europe. Especially outside of Israel (there’s still issues in Israel because of decades of making the ‘modern strong Jew’ image very Ashkenazi, and the ideas that naturalising into Israeli identity meant dropping your traditions if you weren’t Ashkenazi, but I think it’s wayyyy better now than what my parents grew up with), I get the distinct feeling that a lot Ashkenazi Jews do feel that non-Ashkenazi stuff is lesser in a way. Not in terms of being worse, just idk really how to describe it— I guess maybe like it’s lesser Judaism? Basically just that Ashkenazi culture, history, language, etc. are all the default of Jews and everything else is a deviation, so then less care is put into preserving non-Ashkenazi traditions.
So very much more about neglect and centralisation than it is either racism or something about goyim. Sorry for ranting, I just cannot help myself on this subject it seems lol.
As a secular Israeli jew I find it kinda weird when Americans use the phrase "ashkenormativity" because like. Idk about you but over here we just call it racism and it only really appears as something your kibbutznik grandma does after she's had one too many on seder pesach.
#I think also the experiences in Israel vs outside of Israel are very different even though it does exist in both#and also in diaspora areas with more non-Ashkenazim and areas that are like 99% if not 100% Ashkenazi#but that’s even more ranging and I’m tired#Jewish stuff
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perhaps the most important question i’ve ever asked:
does anyone have tips for people trying to stop being chronically late to everything in the world that aren’t weirdly judgmental and aggressive or flat out lies
#when i tell you every single resource i’ve ever found or tried to get through or anyone i’ve ever asked#has been just so. mean about it#not even intentionally#not always at least#but there’s so much inherent shame tied to being late to things or being a person who used to be late to things#that i don’t think people can untie that from their ‘helpful tips’#it’s all ‘i used to also be a lazy uncaring piece of shit! you don’t have to be a horrible wretched loser anymore!’ and it’s like. okay.#you see how that’s not helping. right.#making me feel worse about it is NEVER helpful. i promise you i already have tortured myself over it FARRR more than any ‘on time’ person#ever had#this has been a comic i’ve been stewing on for ages as well but. well there’s of course the shame#idk it’s something that people are always despicably mean about bc fundamentally people who have never struggled with it#see it as a personal choice to be late#and as something one needs to just ‘try harder’ to fix. and that if you don’t#you inherently don’t care about other people’s time or even other people in general#and that feels horrible! it feels really bad!!#i mean i’ve got it from EVERYONE. disability allies. other adhd folks. disability resource offices#it’s something that nobody ever cares to acknowledge or try to accommodate for#bc time blindness and exec dysfunction are NEVER taken seriously as disabilities. they’re always always viewed as a personal failing#and i’m sick and tired of it. bc all this does is make people struggling with this Hate themselves#and worry endlessly that maybe they Are selfish and actually Don’t care about anyone else#there’s a bit too much here to keep in the tags i should really do the comic for adhd awareness month
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one of those nights
#small vent#lately I’ve been questioning things a lot#and this overwhelming feeling of being lonely takes over#and I question myself and my feelings and thoughts on certain things#sometimes i end up thinking im a bad person#the guilt i feel because I don’t do ship art gets overwhelming sometimes#and i end up feeling like an asshole because of it#but I genuinely just can’t (at least not for the gf fandom)#family and platonic moments are just way too important to me#which might explain a small desire wanting to have that but unable to#maybe it’s the aroaceness in me idk#it just gets really lonely sometimes in your own corner#i’m sorry#I know things like this can be annoying but I needed to vent#some more light-hearted things hopefully soon#delete later
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MY HERO!!!
Srsly tho thank you for your analysis.. idk why but I have seemingly endless energy and thoughts when it comes to reading way too far into like every throwaway line Steph says but whenever I read this comic and look at the riddles my mind just totally blanks. No fucking clue.
That being said your breakdown has definitely sparked some ideas for me!
For the first riddle, maybe it’s my uncharitable read of Arthur’s characer, but I find it unlikely he would admit in front of other criminals that he sees his daughter as something precious to him. He usually puts up a tough front. On the other hand, it’s not like The Riddler isn’t an extremely intelligent man, he could probably read in between the lines even if Arthur never said as much directly. Agreed that the gift is almost certainly Steph. Still thinking on what the ‘theft that gives’ could possibly mean and coming up blank however.
If the gift of Steph keeps ‘taking’ it might be that Arthur saw what was meant to be a ‘gift’, his child, not being a gift and instead taking away from him and inconveniencing him instead, as Spoiler. It’s possible the theft is of Arthur’s freedom?
Agreed that Arthur seems to have have a habit of abusing Steph and threatening to kill her only to do a 180 and profess how supposedly important she is to him once she’s actually dead, or when she’s not around to hear it.
For the second one, I really like your take. The fact that we’re discussing two bugs here is especially interesting/ hard to parse. I definitely agree that one of the bugs is supposed to be Stephanie. What especially interests me is the fact that the Cluemaster stopped leaving clues by the time that Steph first appears on the scene as Spoiler. Most (all?) of his post crisis crimes don’t involve him leaving clues behind. Maybe that’s the transformation?
Three is so interesting 100 percent agreed, no notes.
Judgement Day as a response to Stephanie’s question could be a call to the idea that no one knows? Much like no one can tell their fate until Judgement day occurs (which you’re not really alive for I guess as per the riddle), Nygma is trying to indicate no one but god could know why Arthur did what he did now that he’s ‘dead’, and supposably no one will ever be able to know. Maybe. Ugh, I hate riddles.
On the oxen riddle, the tiger is as effective at violence as the Oxen, if not more, to me the riddle is drawing attention to the idea that someone only sees the aspects of a person which include the things they themselves value in themselves. I don’t know how that applies but figured I’d add that on.
I’m thinking you’re probably dead on with the last one, but I simply would never have put that together on my own so thank you again.
Overall I think you’re right with the idea that The Riddler is probably not trying to answer Stephanie’s questions honestly via riddle format, and that his riddles are likely more of a response to Stephanie’s asking of her questions at all. thats one of the things I’ve been caught up on, assuming the riddlers riddles are a direct and honest response to her questions just because he seems to agrees to answer her. Honestly, that’s on me for expecting only one layer of abstraction from the guy who goes by The Riddler.
Anyways thank you for throwing your awesome interpretations into the ring so I didn’t have to try to figure these out myself. I’m not good enough at riddles for that. I’m not good at riddles at all.
I'm gonna have a go at the riddles which The Riddler throws at Stephanie Brown in Robin (1993) #113. @a-bad-case-of-the-stephs I'm hoping you can help me out, haven't actually read Robin in well over a year.
It's a gift that keeps on taking. It's a theft that keeps on giving. Having a child is the "gift" and when Arthur was imprisoned or estranged, his child was "stolen" from him. When Stephanie came into Arthur's life, he saw her as a "white elephant", but when he no longer had her, he became driven by the idea of her.
One bug is wrapped in a web, therein to die. Another bug is wrapped in its own web, there to be reborn. In a sense, being tangled in a web can be fatal but it can also indicate introspection and growth. Arthur's obsession with leaving clues were often his undoing so will Stephanie preoccupation with her father be her's or will it actually represent reflection and change?
There is a dog in the manger, but it cannot subsist on hay. A manger is a feeder for livestock, typically holding hay; which dogs do not eat. A "dog in a manger" is a person who spitefully refuses to let someone else benefit from (or let go of) something for which he or she has no personal use (dictionary.com). But dogs cannot subsist on hay and the livestock cannot eat with the dog in the manger. If the dog doesn't relent or change, then everyone loses. Stephanie is the dog and her memory of her father is the manger she cannot let go of.
What day of the week has no man ever lived to see? Judgement day. You have to be dead to see it. And they're both very much alive.
The Tiger envies the Oxen but only understands its horns. The Tiger envies the Oxen's power but it only understands power through the language of violence. Steph easily outmatches The Riddler in a fight yet is confused how he still holds all the cards although she attacks him because she only speaks the language of violence.
I am the number you cannot count on your fingers. Edit: he’s saying Steph’s missing the point; you can’t count him on your fingers, he’s not that kind of number.
Would love some input.
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It must be nice not having to bottle everything up.
#maybe I am tired of being nice#maybe I do want to go ape shit#not really a vent#but early this year I discovered that apparently I can’t express anger or process it??#like a while back I thought I was having a panic attack but apparently I was shaking in anger#and i didn’t know until it was pointed out#I mean don’t get me wrong I get angry but I just push it down#like there’s A LOT of stuff (new and old) that irritates me but I just keep it to myself#I mean I could vent post about stuff but… 🤷♀️#i just don’t want to#which now that I think about it vent art could help#like I kinda did it before and hell my regular art is an expressive outlet for me anyways#idk I’m just rambling#💬 chy chatter 💬
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I keep seeing fanarts of ppl's OC's being on the ship, so do you think that if there was 6st crewmember (specifically, another woman) Anya would've been more safe? Like, someone to actually call Jimmy's begaviour out, someone Anya might wanna trust? Is there a possibility something might have changed (even if a little) or it would not have mattered at all?
-💀
I feel like the game would make it part of the commentary on where she would believe and help Anya but still be sort of dismissive? Like the whole “don’t waste time crying and being scared keep going and move on, don’t let him win”. It’s supposed to be positive and reinforcing but sometimes it does more damage in those times of mourning and grief, it feels patronizing, like you don’t understand what you’re going through but they do. Even if they did call out his behavior it’s still on Curly to act and while another voice would help, it’s still 4 against 2 on guys that don’t get it until they have to vs women who always have to.
I don’t mind mouthwashing OCs but I do get a bit bored as they tend to be borderline saviors or like Jimmy aligned. They are either more complicit than Curly or just Jimmy haters for no reason, outside of what the creators know about what he did to Anya. I am never irked by OCs but in a story like mouthwashing you really need to think about what your character adds to the commentary, especially if they are there during the crash. It’s nice to have like characters on Anya’s side more whole heartedly and interesting to see characters who placate Jimmy but sometimes it’s one note.
I can’t and don’t want to police peoples OCs it’s never my intention when I comment on trends I notice, but I do feel like the way people make their OCs interact with these two characters and especially Curly, really show a grave misunderstanding of the narrative and these characters as people vs roles in the story. Still, I know people just make up characters for fun and that’s fine. Great even, but I guys I’m focusing more on OCs that are supposed to have those serious dynamics. My favs tend to be pretty-Tulpar or post-Tulpar au OCs.
The inevitably of the crash is on Jimmy. He did that not because he wasn’t stopped but because all his means to kill Anya were taken. The gun, the axe. Even if Curly did strip him of his co-pilot privileges and try to keep him contained there’s only so many people. An extra body helps but they have jobs they have to do, he’s the only one steering the whole ship and Jimmy would likely have an out: food, bathroom, etc. He’s not new and if he couldn’t crash the ship directly, who’s to say he wouldn’t sabotage something else? A clunker like the Tulpar wouldn’t take much. An extra person helps but it’s just another thing that prolongs what a person like Jimmy is willing to do to shirk responsibility.
It’s more than just needing someone to stand up to him and think that’s what is missing when it comes to inserting a character into the mouthwashing setting.
#like again most people treat Jimmy like a misanthrope and he’s not and the way he’s just evil/rude to everyone all the time just isn’t real#like he’s snarky and rude but it can’t be 100% of the time like hes not going out his way to instigate#he’s the type to say shit and hope it stirs the pot like Daisuke likes him at first#thinks he’s a bit of a jerk but he likes him like unless you specifically make a character he’s dislike he’s not just gonna be#readily antagonistic to strangers or at the get go#not to mention it’s not just about Anya needing a friend but someone with the power to do something#a point in why she confides in Curly is he’s the captain she’s not just gonna tell the only other woman just because it’s still personal#not every girl tells their friend or another woman especially if they are new and they don’t know how they react not all girls are#girls girls some can be just as toxic as the men they are being confided in about#the nuance of the situation is not solved by having more people who actively hate jimmmy if anything it would make him escalate further as#clearly has issues with how people perceive him and being liked like another woman who hates him that’s gonna do something crazy in his mind#I think it’s interesting when OCs explore another side of the pre established dynamics as Jimmy uses each remaining crew member to fill a#something Curly provided for him and represent his dynamic with Anya and being an abuser I just feel like a lot is being missed out on#and it’s mainly cause people don’t want to make OCs that aren’t great people like it’s okay to have a grey mediocre OCs in situations like#this its realistic and helps you write more grounded characters like idk i like the ocs but eh im not like a super fan#I really should make an analysis on Jimmy cause people hate discussing him and his character is being really misunderstood#like not saying she’s innocent or an excuse but just not getting how he is supposed to work like he’s no dick fucking dasteredly#he’s a shitty guy who gets shittier like he ain’t start out an avengers level threat#mouthwashing#💀 anon#mouthwashing game#ask#anya mouthwashing#curly mouthwashing#jimmy mouthwashing#mouthwashing oc#now I gotta make an oc just to prove myself but I can’t draw#so maybe not cuz what’s the point if I can’t explain the fly drip
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If I throw a bunch of hats in the ring surely one of them has to fit right
Featuring the three recolors of one design cause I like them all
#two of these designs are because I can’t get out of my head her being a windclan cat. I don’t know why but I can’t imagine her being-#-thunderclan even though she most likely will be#i like the idea of tortie / calico moonpaw but I hadn’t seen any harvest moon ones!! I wanted to make one myself#and just an orange moon one#the first one is what I think will be closest to her canon. that or the grey one of the recolor set#if she’s grey I’ll just change the first one to slightly greyer. or not idk#if I already convince myself she’s grey I’ll either not be disappointed or pleasantly surprised I don’t wanna hold out hope too much#her windclan looking designs came to me so easily I think they’re my faves but the harvest moon one is really cute too#just not fully pleased with my color choice I struggles with it#warrior cats#warriors#changing skies#moonpaw#design
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men love to try and tee me up for their next relationship while they’re still dating their current gf and i am never interested. NEVER.
#i don’t even fuck w men like that#mind you i’ve told this man that i am NOT INTERESTED in dating SEVERAL TIMES when he’s asked ab my romantic life#but he’s saying some suspicious ass stuff#like today he was like ‘yeah and it’s hard bc i’m starting have feelings for….this isn’t about anyone in particular….others outside#the relationship. and it’s making me feel guilty’#and i’m like hm. um. okay.#and he’s being weirdly cryptic with me in the way men get when they think they’re being sly ab their feelings for you#😭😭#he’s texting me a bunch lately too like ‘you just really inspire me to be the best version of myself i can be’#and ‘i had a really bad week and i just wanted to thank you for being so kind and funny and awesome’#mind you i didn’t do anything out of ordinary for him#mind you he’s my coworker!!!#i see him every day!!#i’m not stupid idk 😭 you complain ab your gf to me and the shower me in praise like pls stop im uncomfortable 😭😭#i’ve already told him i don’t really want this dynamic with a coworker and he kinda just continues and idk what to do anymore!#like we work closely on everything!#he sits directly beside me in the office!#BLAH#cielo rambles!
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