#physically mentally sick women
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sweetslemon · 2 years ago
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Idk stupid hot take but: no fault divorce for women, yes fault divorce for men. men should prove their way out so they dont bail out as it befits them conveniently
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thatgirlwhokeepsreading · 1 month ago
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The thing the people don’t tell you about re-parenting yourself/similar gambits is that for bitches of a particular temperament (it’s me I’m bitches) it sometimes makes you so so mad when it works. Sold all my baby dolls in a garage sale when I was eight not because I didn’t want to them anymore but because I thought I shouldn’t want them anymore, and now the only thing that had me sleeping like a rock after fortnight of hells is this elaborate LARP so I can convince my central nervous system that there is someone in charge who a) wants to take care of shit and b) can take care of shit.
RSD emotional hangover making you too agitated to sleep even though you’re intellectually aware the conflict is resolved? Not anymore with the power of making dairy-free chocolate milk and listening to ten minutes of Dune on audiobook while reading alongside on your e-reader before you pass the fuck out.
Like you would think cringing into the sun* would keep one even more awake than the vague background radiation of little-T traumas (which has actually reduced after five years of medication and psychology appointments), but I guess it is really about quantity over quality. Guess one big cringe is less impactful than the relief from convincing the quivering little toddler that’s been left in charge of the sleep lever in your brain to come out from under the desk and do their job by putting up a sort of flimsy curtain so they can no longer see the wall of painting symbolising your mild disconcerting experiences
And I reference temperament when I know that my annoyance is in fact also a huge part to do with socialisation, particularly being primed towards abnegation + a fundamental suspicion towards adults engaging with things culturally associated with Children and Childhood, both of which are things I challenge on principle consciously/intellectually. But knowing that it’s completely harmless, and like hey I could be doing meth or something, does not change the fact that when I mimic the running commentary I do with babysitting kids Just In My Head To Myself and immediately become head-nodding sleepy, I’m instantly like “oh we respond to this and not a haunting amount of melatonin? cool. yeah. sure.”
(*Of course none of this is cringe when other people do it, as they are allowed to experience Quirks and Vulnerabilities in peace because they are Not Me. That said, when I’m not venting on tumblr dot org I do generally avoid calling any of this stuff cringe bc I am aware that caveating with “This only applies to me because I’m Not Like Other Girls (I’m Worse)” often doesn’t actually make the other person feel assured you’re not judging them.)
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dandyshucks · 7 months ago
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experiencing my bimonthly (every two months) morality spiral of "it's bad that i like men, why am i not as attracted to women, i must be a misogynist if I personally am not as often attracted to women as i am men"
i would say i need to go touch grass to get over it but unfortunately I do that at least once a day and it does not seem to help 😔 (this second paragraph is half joke)
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youngestdaughtersyndrome · 2 years ago
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i think its very interesting how i always feel the most like a girl when i feel the worst
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theres-whump-in-that-nebula · 7 months ago
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Imagine doing so much hard work and persevering through law school to have your failed tests advertised on the internet news. The bar is really hard; he’s not “cringe fail.” I am jealous of his ability to even attend college without committing suicide. He did a good job. Leave my dude the fuck alone.
I don’t care if they’re elites. If they’re elites; then make fun of them solely for being rich nepotism babies. There are non-elites who have failed the bar (or any important test) once or twice as well who will see this and feel bad about themselves.
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#My uncle failed the bar I think three times before he passed and he’s a smart dude. It is extremely difficult#I respect anyone — even if they are an elite — who is capable and willing to put in that much mental work on anything#No one deserves to be ridiculed for moving past failure and trying again#That is a strength.#Or do we as a society only care about the “naturally smart” and “gifted?”#I’ve failed tests and retaken them before and so have you; should the internet ridicule us?#The SPED kids I work with very often don’t understand things the first the time around; should we ridicule them as well?#At what point do we stop judging people for their mistakes?#Also if the roles were reversed and the former princess took the bar three times; would you still say she were “cringe fail?”#or would you be too afraid of sounding “anti-feminist?”#Why? Is it because men are “supposed” to be smarter than women#and tasks that are “expected” from them would make a woman a “girlboss” for completing them?#or perhaps is it because we just don’t like men and think them creatures of lesser intellect worthy of our jeering and pet names?#Because I for one am androgynous and sick of the double standards. They help nobody#Don’t expect more from men than you do from women; don’t expect less from women than you do from men#That includes how one gender group speaks of and behaves around the other#It is the reason why a man feels he cannot physically fight a woman who is attacking him#because if he successfully defends himself he looks like an asshole; and if he fails he looks like a wimp#It is the reason women vastly underestimate and devalue their physical strength and resourcefulness as a tool#because men are the strong resourceful ones because it’s “in their biology”#Even though I am androgynous and would possibly love to be on testosterone#I don’t need testosterone or a man’s body to pull off great feats of strength and cunning and neither do you#Ladies! Build some determination: “I CAN do it and it WILL work because I fucking say so.”#Get angry. Mess your hair up. Break a nail. You are a durable physical beast put on this earth for more than looking pretty#You are meant to break a sweat. You are meant to do things that aren’t “ladylike” because women are STRONG. Physically#Men you are not less manly for enjoying housework; and ladies you are not less feminine for enjoying outdoor labor#Crush gender norms. Vive la résistance!
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girl-bateman · 5 months ago
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Blood-work came back fine which either means I really do have a mysterious deadly illness OR its my mental health that's fucking up my physical health. Now my dilemma for my upcoming appointment .. do I mention how neurotically devastated I've been feeling these last months, knowing the doctor might be relieved to blame it all on hysteria instead of doing more testing ? Or do I just... not say anything about that.. lol
#i feel very very uncomfortable referring to diagnoses or specific mental health conditions that i cannot confirm i have (!)#but if this is indeed all linked to that stuff that happened 4months ago#which hypothetically would be linked to some unpleasantness that idk about from the past#then yes. my physical symptoms could technically be explained by a triggered trauma response#made worse by anxiety stress hightened cortisol levels etc etc#HOWEVER lots of doctors tend to dismiss women abt physical symptoms in favour of blaming mental health issues#and i dont want to give them any reason to do that in case i really am sick fr (as in dying lol)#bit then again i kinda am hysterical 👍#im relieved my friends have been so gentle with me abt this but it kinda makes it harder to have a reference point for how insane/normal#my thoughts and reflections are. bc they're just doing that empathetic listening thing. not rly saying what THEY think u know#and dont get me wrong! thats prob the right call! but for once id just like for someone to be like#'obviously u were xx' ??? bc they just keep saying they dont wanna speculate. and i dont either! but im going mad trying to find anwsers#and ig i just want someone to tell me what i should think and do and whats normal and whats not#like??? is it rational for me to think something bad happened or am i being delusional. evil and paranoid ???#am i in denial for believing that nothing might have happened at all and that there might be other things to explain whats going on ??#i just want to know what the normal ppl think bc i feel very far from normal rn#and i can tell my friends are having so many opinions that they are leaving unsaid#which low key is not helping the paranoia BUT once again i know that they are doing it out of kindness and sensitivity 🙏💓#i love my friends and this is not a diss to them !!! i just have a lot of conflicting thoughts and feelings abt it looool#sorry these tags always turn into a rant#diary entries
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puppygirlclick · 5 months ago
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Help Two Disabled Trans Women Get Back On Their Feet
My federal income tax withheld wasn't properly updated by my employer on account of their bookkeeping which means I owe $1000 to the IRS by the end of July. I also had to go through intensive surgery at the end of February to fix a hernia which had caught my left testicle up in it, with a good portion of the left side of my abdomen being covered with a hernia mesh. Despite having been supposed to be healed up after 8 weeks, I have surpassed my employers 180 day limit for a leave of absence of which I wasn't informed of. Being terminated from my job leaves me with no health insurance and no way to continue paying for my doctor's appointments and treatments, all this as I am still paying $270 a month for my car and am possibly at risk of losing because I don't have a reliable way to pay for anything. On top of this, my girlfriend (@stcecilia) has recently moved in after being kicked out by a transphobic landlord and is dealing with worsening undiagnosed pain and sickness which has left her unable to work. Unfortunately she was relying on me getting better which isn't happening right now, and she's having to take care of me instead because of the condition I was left in with severe nerve pain the past few months leaving me stuck in a chair. We are both living with my parents and I can't even begin to put into words how much this is affecting both my girlfriend and I's mental health and physical well being along with everything else, with the way the house is always dirty, my step-mother constantly starting arguments with anyone who comes near her and constantly vitriolic and everyone else arguing and fighting with each other because of this.
It's hard to set a precise goal without it being subject to change for what we need as of right now but at least $1800 would help to pay my federal taxes and keep my car for the next two months and keep us on our feet for the time being.
Any amount helps towards paying off what we owe and moving closer to getting out of this house and into a better living situation and making sure we're properly cared for.
$0/1800
C*sh*pp $StSeeSee (@stcecilia's account) P*yp*l @debtanddeerteeth (Friend's account i can't get into mine without phone# and cici has no bank account rn) Ask for V*nmo (Not listing here because of my deadname) DO NOT TAG
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boringkate · 5 months ago
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wow it'd suck being an actually trans person if more people transitioned for fetish reasons. it'd give people the impression that most people transition for fetish reasons. and it gives precedent to outlaw it as a sexual fetish thing, not a real condition.
What is (to you) an "actually trans person"? Someone with an incurable immutable medical condition? Someone that should be allowed to transition (an act so extreme and degenerate that no healthy person should ever be allowed to engage in it) only out of pity because they're too mentally or physically sick and weak to bare existence any other way?
The fascists that hate perverts hate you too. They want to crush you under their boot and then scrape the viscera off like they just stepped in dog shit. There's no appeasing them. You can't make them love you by being a good chaste respectable humble little white supremacist christian transsexual.
What else shouldn't people be allowed to do for sexual reasons? What should they be allowed to do for sexual reasons? Should people not be gay for sexual reasons? Or straight for sexual reasons?
Every one of us is here because our parents and our parent's parents were perverts who fucked and bred. Your great great grand mother got dicked down raw and nutted in and with any luck she enjoyed it. We're all perverts. And that's fine! There's no shame in it. No one is better than you and you're no better than anyone else.
Men and women aren't innately different. Gender isn't sacred. It doesn't need to be protected. Don't concede anything just for the chance to beg for mercy.
If trans liberation is going to be worth having then it has to be rooted in the idea that transness is both beautiful and mundane. Transitioning is no big deal. It's not regrettable. People can choose to transition for any reason (or no reason at all) and them doing so is something to celebrate.
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johannestevans · 2 years ago
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i've been listening to a lot more fat liberationist stuff recently and like...
so obvs i already had some backing in a lot of the basic theory, stuff like institutional anti-fatness in medicine, fashion, travel, etc, but like
so as a really thin guy who's always found it impossible to gain weight, its been unbelievably emotionally and mentally liberating to hear people talking really casually about the disability that's associated with thinness
so like being really thin, you lack additional joint and bone support - if you fall, you have less padding and less STRUCTURE to protect your bones from breaks and fractures, right?
obvs theres plenty of fat people that do have issues with bones and joints, im not saying thsres not, its just that normally i feel like im the lone person saying "being this thin is bad for me and is part of various health problems i also have"
and idk its just like. my whole life i was such a sickly child lmao
like i couldnt stand for long periods except "long period" would often be like. any period. i didnt understand how my peers were just standing for so long and just weathering that, bc to me it wasnt possible at all - i breathed badly, my joints were fucked etc
and looking back and realising as i get more disabled like the extent to which i was similarly disabled in my youth, and how i lacked the language to verbalise or sometimes even recognise my own pain and struggle
but also like
the treatment of me as so evil and lazy because i wasn't exercising, or because like. a PE teacher would pick me out as an example because i was so thin, and then be furious that i wasn't remotely physically fit, and that i was disabled
i remember multiple times esp from cis female teachers just. frothing rage at my diet and the things i ate, or when i wrinkled my nose at talk about diets, bc i was so thin so i had to be doing The Right Things, and if i was that thin and doing bad things i had to be punished
and its bc a lot of these ppl thought of fatness and being fat as a punishment, a target for abuse that people deserved, and bc i was a young disabled trans guy like. i deserved punishment for my laziness and nonconformity, and it became a lot about my weight
like expressing that i wanted to gain weight, that i was cold all the time, that i had no energy etc, that eating was hard but that i enjoyed food, all of that was met with such fuckin aggression and really sharp policing, esp from PE teachers and esp from women
and obvs all that is to do with the way that diet culture particularly targets women and those perceived as women, and the desire to engage in lateral violence to police others into complying with gender roles etc as they were upholding them
but idk like. fat liberationist politics is imo inherently tied up with disability liberation, because of the way that "health" is weaponised as a symbol of being good or deserving, and how fatness and disability are both used as targets and symbols of evil and punishment
MOST OF ALL for fat & disabled people
but for nondisabled fat people disability is often threatened as punishment - if you don't become less fat, you'll (deserve to) become disabled
and for disabled thin people, if you don't act less disabled, you'll (deserve to) become fat
and its not a punishment to be fat or disabled or sick. its just how some people are. its not BAD to be this way - and what makes things hard for us is not something inherent to the badness of our bodies, but instead the lack of kindness and accommodation anybody is willing to extend to them
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pirateprincessblog · 1 year ago
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Strawberry Mocha
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𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: your favorite café has a new barista, and he seems oddly familiar, especially when you see his hands move when he prepares your favourite beverage 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jung wooyoung x reader, ft yunho 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 24.7k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: barista!wooyoung, student!reader, camboy!wooyoung, virgin!reader, hopelesslyinlove!yunho 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: masturbation, mutual masturbation, sexting, public oral, public fingering, blindfold, slight bondage, toys, edging
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, v-card loss, angst on yunho's side 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: pussy drunk wooyo idk man also i imagine wooyo as bouncy wooyo here with that hot ass hair purr but make it oreo like he had it in aotm
𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫s 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.
nsfw link(s): one
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anastasya wants to chat! click here to see one new message.
"hello, gorgeous. want to see my pussy?" - tina, less than 10 km away.
luciano is more than ready to show you the 8th world wonder.
"close. close. close." your words are synchronized with the clicking of your mouse. with each minute passing, each click is getting more aggressive.
sick and tired of all the sex ads interrupting your studying over an illegally found textbook, you bury your head into your pillow. your back hurts from laying on your stomach for hours, but it is the only position that helps you with period cramps. the laptop makes a noise again, one you've heard enough of for the last few hours.
"i really don't want to fuck you, nick." you whine, clicking at the x in the corner of the new ad. when it opens three new tabs, all you can do is groan and close the laptop. you have an exam tomorrow, today is your first day of the period, which means tomorrow it's going to be worse, and to make things better, you are bombarded with photos of nude men and women, with attached locations, chat boxes and quotes. you feel sick.
yet again, you have just a little more of this lesson left, and if you could manage to spend so many hours fighting the virus bots, you can do it for ten more minutes. all out of motivation and will to live, you turn the laptop back on. the screen brightness almost blinds you, you forget how dark it has become and how bright your screen is. your eyes skim over the words, your brain so focused on focusing, that you forget to focus. you are frustrated, in pain, your hair is so greasy you could model it like clay, and your are nails half bitten off.
three minutes until your sleeping schedule starts, and five more long paragraphs to read. taking a deep breath, you click the arrow to scroll. as if the laptop is mocking you, it delivers you another message.
wooyoung (23), offers both mental and physical relief. check it out!
the ad flashes across the whole screen, the x not even visible on this one. you don't feel anything anymore. you've gone completely numb. accepted your fate. this will be your reminder to not study the last day ever again. you stare at the pink letters, then the picture on the side of it. it shows a young man, and oddly enough, not all oiled up and naked on it. it is a selfie, and in it he lays on the bed in the same position as you. how odd, to put a normal and clothed person on a sex ad.
"fuck it."
you drag the arrow over the highlighted letters, sighing. months, maybe even a whole year spent without a sexual contact. you didn't crave it. nothing in real life turned you on. maybe you didn't pay enough attention. maybe you've overgrown simple flirting and poor tries of having one night stands at parties. maybe all those young adult fantasy books on your shelves have raised your standards. looking back at the things that used to get you going makes you cringe. you've evolved from poorly acted out porn videos, to pages full of dark haired morally grey characters, blindfolds, leather gloves, candle wax, and whatnot.
you have yet to try out anything other than poor rubbings over the jeans you've received, not even orgasming. one night, three whole minutes of a drunk guy almost irritating your skin from harsh rubs, and a fake moan later, you start to wonder if you're the problem. proposing the idea of anything other than missionary and oral would make you the weird one, especially since you're a virgin. men here are shallow, and would rather jerk off to an amateur movie than try to match your standards and make the whole thing actually enjoyable.
the link you've clicked on doesn't open multiple tabs like the previous ones did. instead, it opens a single site, which first asks you to register and confirm your age. eager to see if the man in the picture was really the one offering such services, you log in with your google account, which unknowingly to you, used your picture and real name to set up the new account. your notes and pens are discarded on the floor, and your focus is on the man currently showing off his rings.
his hands are veiny, that is the first thing you notice. decorated with silver rings, nails neatly trimmed, with the pinky one painted black, and fingers oddly satisfying to look at. he brushes those same fingers through his hair, making it change colour for a split second. you notice that he is half blonde, which just makes you realize that sleep is not an option tonight. at least not yet.
"anyone want to open today's topic before i start?" he offers, scrolling through the comments.
you watch as people comment various topics and requests, the main one being for him to start touching himself already. for a sex cam, he does quite a lot of talking. maybe that's why you haven't left the site yet, but are staring at the way his teeth are biting his lip while his eyes focus on the bright screen.
"your friends are shaming you for having a threesome?" he reads out loud, then sighs. "they're probably virgins. or inexperienced girls who got fucked once then dumped. only they shame people for their sexual desires. they have no creativity at all. i can't imagine jerking off with just my hand anymore. feels bland. don't worry about them."
your fingers are quicker than your brain, and before you even register it, you hit send.
a soft laugh travels to your ears, and you just know it's because of your comment.
"you beg to differ?" he says, brushing his hair back again. he takes a moment to think. his rings shine under the dimmed lights, and you can't help but wonder how it would be to feel that cool sensation on your body.
you'd love to have him feel you up and down with this rings on, a cold contrast on your hot skin. you wouldn't budge if he were to put that hand against your neck, giving it light squeezes just enough to give you a thrill. you'd even let him do it in front of that camera of his, make all of these thirsty girls jealous because you're the one moaning his name. shit, you're really into him. or rather this whole situation. and he hasn't done a single sexual gesture.
"a virgin on my page. interesting." the young man hums, his eyebrows scrunched. "isn't life boring as a virgin? i mean, what do you do?"
i study, you're quick to reply again.
"i meant sexually, love." he laughs, somewhat fondly.
was it that obvious that you're a virgin? your cheeks feel hot, and you now wish to exit the page. but by doing that, you'll just prove him right. he'll make fun of you too, just like he did to those friends. you sigh. he doesn't know who you are, so it doesn't matter. you'll be honest, and maybe he'll give you a solution.
using hands isn't that boring
"ever tried a toy? or a person?"
tried a person. got disappointed.
"ah, what a shame. let me guess, gave you blisters from rubbing?"
oh just how did you know?
"poor thing," he coos, "if you had come to the right person, i would've given you just what you need."
the words come out raspy, and there's a sudden change on his face. you wonder if you said anything wrong. if he was thinking about banning you. but instead, a notification pops up in the corner of your screen.
wooyoung has sent you a message request!
oh.
oh.
"anyways, let's move on. am i in a hotel? ah, no. i recently moved houses, this will be my new filming room now. not as special as the previous one, but i need time to decorate it."
he keeps talking, eyes glancing at his phone every now and then, as if expecting you to answer right away. you are shaking, your head feels dizzy, and you find it hard to swallow. was he going to tell you privately to fuck off of his site? how embarrassing that would be. you wouldn't ever recover.
wooyoung has sent you a message request!
two of them now, yet you're still debating whether or not to exit and delete your browsing history. it won't hurt to look. you don't have to reply. you can just take a peek, leave him on read, and fuck out of there. it's not like he will see you on the street tomorrow. he could be on a whole different continent, and yet, he could be five houses away from you. either way, you're feeling vulnerable. those messages are either humiliation, or something entirely different. both of those make you feel uneasy.
then again, this is the only thing that sparked something inside you in these few months of feeling burnt out from reading all that erotica. the only difference is, this is happening. really happening. a whole man is in your chat, while he has an ongoing sex stream with more than five thousand people watching and commenting. and so when you say fuck it, you mean it.
wooyoung: ever tried an innocent soft little pillow?
wooyoung: guaranteed, feels better than a horny teenage boy.
your breathing is shallow, and you fear that you might collapse. his next message contains a phone number, and then, you watch him drop the phone on his bed. his focus is now on the camera, and the way his eyes stare into the lens, makes you feel as if they're searching for you. deciding to further test the waters, and see if he is just trying to have a little fun, or if he really has taken an ounce of interest in an inexperienced watcher, you send a text back.
he stops mid sentence, glancing at his phone. he fails to hide a smirk, and you're not sure whether it is the one of amusement or mocking.
am I, a boring old virgin, good enough for a pillow?
being a virgin doesn't mean you're all that innocent. quite the opposite, in your friend group, you are the one who leaves them all shocked when you speak of your desires. yet, who guarantees that this guy can accomplish what you want? they all want to "rock your world", show you how "good" it can be, until the make-out session is over and they come in their pants from simple dry humping. and you? who cares about if you came. your job is done the moment they come to their senses, and you are left to your growing disappointment in young men your age again.
wooyoung: does the boring old virgin know how to use one? perhaps some assistance is needed?
you swallow. you've never used anything other than your hand before. for someone with such a creative mind, you were quite a bore when it comes to pleasing yourself. you were used to your own touch, and you desperately needed someone else to fill the spot.
you glance at the screen. he is now holding something in his hand. it's clear, and long, and you're not sure if you've seen that before. your mind doesn't get enough time to form a thought, because he sticks two fingers in his mouth. he swirls the tongue around them, coating them until they're shimmering like the rings. sensually slow, he takes them out, making sure to give the camera a dreamy gaze. he turns the gadget towards the camera, and just when you figure out what it is, he brings his wet fingers to the hole in the toy. he circles the entrance, causing your tights to squeeze. you are so mesmerized by the way he slowly inserts his fingers into the toy, that you don't realize you are almost panting.
"need to prepare her for me."  he says, giving it a few slow pumps.
you can almost feel his fingers on your cunt, he is just that good at this. each pump of his fingers sends a wave of butterflies straight to your abdomen. it's so painful, to be horny on your period. otherwise you would've came twice by now.
"think I've prepared her enough?"
comments are flooded with positive feedback, and the young man smirks. he readjusts the camera, and sits with his back against the bed frame. he wears short sweatpants, perfectly showing off his not so humble size. he takes his sweet time to undo the knot on them, driving the watchers (including you) insane. he laughs at the comments, and decides it's enough teasing.
"for all the virgins here tonight," he says, then glances at his phone.
finally, he pulls his sweats down. his cock find its place in his hand, not allowing you to take a better look. wooyoung gives himself a few slow strokes, head falling against the headboard as he does so. he hums, licking his fingers and pressing them against his cock. you have stopped breathing. his gaze is fixed on the lens, eyelids half closed, and breathing shallow. your eyes watch his movements, carefully documenting and engraving them in your brain so you can replay them for the next few weeks. he takes the toy, sliding it on his cock. your mouth drops when you see the absolute relief on his face, followed by an eyeroll and a deep moan. you figure that the toy serves him as a fake pussy. why a fake one, when he can have anyone he likes? his watchers must get jealous. you would be too, if you saw someone so hot that gives you such attention fuck someone else.
a few strokes in, and he is already bucking his hips upwards and moaning. wet noises travel to your ears, paired with multiple curses and sighs. suddenly, he sits up, grabbing two pillows from behind his back. he places a pillow on the mattress, the toy, then another pillow on top of all that. you almost gasp when you see him spit on his fingers, rubbing his cock, then slowly insert it into the toy. he grabs the pillows, then plunges his hips into it. he groans, and stays inside for a moment. then, he starts off with slow thrusts.
you've read so much about rough sex, that you didn't even think about the sensual side of it. how good it must be to savour every caress, every lick and every stroke. to actually take your time, like he is taking it with a simple toy. to be at his mercy for hours, what you'd give. helpless, deprived of senses, only him and you. you feel your heartbeat slow down as he stares into the lens, hips moving with such pace that has your stomach almost exploding.
overwhelmed by the situation unfolding in front of you, you shut your laptop down. you see your face on the black screen; cheeks puffed, pupils dilated, and mouth dry. fuck, what was that? did you just watch live porn? and did you interact with the person doing it? you check the time, and with a loud groan, you place the laptop on the floor and roll over. you have so little time to get some quality sleep, yet you're wide awake. your studying is nowhere near done, and you just know that a prayer won't save you tomorrow. from the exam, nor from the cramps.
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surprisingly, you passed the exam. everything you've read last night managed to stick to your brain, despite the crazy situation that had interrupted you. you have already forgotten about it. when you woke up, it all seemed like a part of your dream. a very real dream. today, you didn't have time to think about it. your hair is a greasy mess, and an oversized hoodie hangs from your shoulders, covering your bloated stomach. you've dreamed about a cup of your favorite pink beverage all morning, and when the clock finally showed a sweet number four, you were the first one to run out of the building. your phone lays forgotten at the bottom of your backpack, mind too cluttered with the upcoming projects and cramps.
the coffee shop isn't as busy for a monday morning, and the timing is just right. you cannot stand anymore, so when you get next in line, you are relieved. you take a good look at the menu above the counter, happy that you've made it through such a tough morning.
"good day, how can i help you?"
your smile fades as quick as it arrives. you feel like all the blood in your body has pooled down in your feet, making it hard to move.
"oh, do you need to sit down? you look very..." the voice pauses, and you can feel an intense gaze on your face, before he continues "...pale."
you drop your gaze, slowly, feeling like the person is going to catch on if you do it in normal pace. right in front of you, stands the man who you watched fuck a pillow last night. he is very much real, not a fruit of your imagination combined with exhaust. he smiles sweetly, showing you towards a chair. you don't move. instead, you blink, and let your mouth run.
"i'll have the strawberry mocha please."
he scrunches his eyebrows, but begins to tap on his screen anyway.
"whipp-?"
"with whipped cream, thanks. just, uh, extra syrup. and pearl sprinkles."
he raises an eyebrow, looking at you suspiciously. you can't tell if it's because of your relation to his odd interaction last night, or simply because you are acting weird.
"that'll be-"
you interrupt again, pressing your credit card to the gadget near the cash register, eyes not leaving the wooden surface. with behaviour like this, he will soon figure out why you are acting this way. you must stop, before you embarrass yourself more.
"name?"
"anna," you blurt out, just in case.
"right," you think you hear him scoff, and if it weren't for your brain slowing down with each second, you would've asked what's so funny.
once he types in everything he needs, he points towards an empty section, gesturing you to take a seat. sitting on that chair has never been more uncomfortable for you. you feel like you sat on thorns, and no matter how you adjust, you are just making annoying creaking noises.
you glance at the man behind the counter. a lump forms in your throat as your eyes scan his hand movements. he is invested in the shaker, fingers skillfully moving it in the air. your concentration gets stolen by his face, loose strands falling on it eyes focused on the drink, and eyebrows scrunched. even if he was a aware of you staring, (you doubt he didn't notice), he doesn't spare you a glance. he pours the drink into the iced cup, spilling a little on his fingers and on the counter. you follow his hand, which takes a straw and drops it into the cup, and then moves towards his mouth. your breath stops in your throat, and your eyes almost drop on the floor.
he sticks the two wet fingers in his mouth, slowly, and looks up right at you. he catches you red handed, or better said, red cheeked. you're flustered by his hot, unprofessional, but hot move. and as if that wasn't enough, he has the audacity to maintain eyecontact as he brings you your beverage, a slight smirk dancing on his lips.
"your drink, anna."
"thank you, woo-" you freeze.
idiot. fucking idiot.
"ah, you managed to read my name tag."
he saves you, perhaps unknowingly. the amount of attention that his hands are gaining from you should be concerning, yet you still can't stop admiring those strangely attractive veins peeking from under his rolled up sleeve, going all the way to the fingers which are fixing the name tag.
"wooyoung, your shift ended ten minutes ago!" the voice behind the counter calls.
"oops." he snickers, then makes his way towards the counter, allowing you to take a look at his back too.
the thin white shirt is a little tight on his body, just enough to show off quite a few lines on his back. funnily enough, even though you've seen him naked, something about those clothes giving you a teaser is much more of a button pusher for you. the anticipation and buildup were always more interesting to you than the actual thing they lead to.
you laugh at yourself. as if any of that is going to happen to you any time soon. deciding you've spent enough time out of your comfy apartment today, you decide to put a lid on your coffee and leave the shop. at the door, someone tries to get out before you, but once they realize it's a bit tight for both, two hands gently find their way on your waist. a strong scent of jasmine washes over your senses, warm and firm body pressed against your back.
"oh, watch it, love."
and with that, you stand on the entrance, watching the familiar man run off to his car, the barista apron resting over his shoulder.
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wooyoung: disconnected mid show?
wooyoung: was it too overwhelming for your first time?
wooyoung: shame, i put my all into that orgasm, only to see you disconnected long ago
you are rolling in your bed, listening to the messages that are being read out loud by your very best friend. disbelief evident in his voice, he reads, over and over. you haven't yet replied, and having an actual encounter with him today didn't make it easier for you to do so.
"he's, like, a hundred percent real?"
"he very much is."
"are you sure? because ai is getting very scary these days-"
"yunho." you sit up, face inches away from him. "i stood this close to him."
the tips of his ears turn red, and you manage to catch a single glance he sends towards your lips. you ignore it, trying to convince yourself that if you do not notice, it will not happen. his behaviour will stop.
"he is very much real."
"o-okay," he stutters, turning his head sideways as to avoid being caught staring again, "so what now?"
"i don't know. what is there to do? he's just some porn guy, and i was just an accidental watcher. nothing is going to happen."
"and-"
your phone pings, as if knowing what yunho was about to ask.
"-the messages?"
"i'll just..." you stall, glancing at the phone and trying to see the notification, "...delete it all."
the man in front of you scoffs, believing in your words as much as you. he gets off your bed, picking up his jacket along the way.
"i'll see you in class tomorrow."
you only nod, feeling guilt pooling up at the bottom of your stomach. yet, as soon as you hear the door shut, you grab your phone. indeed, messages from wooyoung are taking up your phone screen.
wooyoung: out of curiosity, you didn't happen to try the pillow thing?
wooyoung: need to borrow mine?
you bite your lip, and your eyes fall on the pile of pillows yunho used to make himself comfortable.
i haven't tried it. and no, i have four of them.
wooyoung: shame. bet they'd love to be suffocated between your legs.
you choke on your spit, eyes skimming over the message multiple times.
that one of your fetishes? being suffocated with female tights?
wooyoung: you have no idea.
a few minutes pass,and you are thinking of various replies to send to him. do you keep talking to him? do you start flirting? is this considered flirting? if yes, are you doing a good job? a few more minutes pass before your phone dings again, wooyoung interrupting your thinking process.
wooyoung: well, i see that you're extremely disinterested in my tries of communication, so i shall just leave you be. hope my actions and i weren't overwhelming for you. if that's the case, my sincere apologies. you're always welcome to my lives though.
wooyoung: oh, and good luck studying!
"no, no," you whisper, seeing the online tag under his name disappear. your lack of communication with actual confident men and your awkwardness in general made him back off. it all felt too real to be true, but it was real. and you let it slip away. your only chance at gaining experience and living out your fantasies.
i'm not disinterested!
shit, you shouldn't have sent that exclamation mark. he will think you are desperate now. he doesn't reply, nor does the tag under his name reappear. you wait, minutes, half an hour, just rolling on the bed and switching between apps, trying to see if he at least went online. maybe he only read it from his notifications, and that wasn't enough to make him come back. you pick up the last few ounces of desperation you have left, and grab a pillow. you sit on it, crushing it between your legs, and pull your oversized hoodie just enough to cover your bottom and expose your thighs. you have discarded the pants the moment you entered the house, already used to walking around in yunho's old comfy boxers. you snap a picture, once, then twice, until you are satisfied with the angle and all the details that he may not even notice; like your chipped nail polish or the messy notes from yunho's studying.
instantly, wooyoung comes back online. he begins typing, then stops. he types again, and stops once more. you are biting your nails, regretting already. now that he knows how desperate you are, he will lose interest in you. you would too if you were him. you zoom into the picture, trying to figure out if anything is wrong with it.
wooyoung saved the picture in the chat!
oh.
wooyoung: fuck, that's
wooyoung: wow
wooyoung: those are the smoothest and softest thighs i've ever seen in my life
wooyoung: you know when you look at something and you know the texture of it? i bet i could just sink between them just like that pillow
wooyoung: could you ride that for me, angel?
the nickname sends arrows to your core, and you gulp. he knows his way with words, and you are so here for it. you can feel yourself dripping, and not from what you're supposed to drip from. your horny levels hit the sky on your period, and oh, how convenient that all of this is happening on the second day of it. he doesn't have to know, you could keep him hooked, until your period is done. but then what? what guarantees that he will not lose interest once he has a little fun with you with all the dirty talk?
your hands work against your brain, and soon enough, you are grinding on the soft material, one hand holding the phone and the other one covering your mouth so that no noises come out of it. if it feels good with so many layers on you, how good can it feel with your bare clit rubbing against it?
wooyoung: atta girl
wooyoung: feel good?
you only moan at the praise he delivers you, hips speeding up the pace.
yes, you manage to quickly type in.
wooyoung: can you type and work it? is it hard for my good girl to multitask?
you set the phone aside, focusing entirely on the object between your legs. you roll your hips, dedicated to chasing the sweet pleasure that has abandoned you for so long. at the memory of his skilled hips last night, the orgasm washes over you so quickly. his choice of words significantly sped up the process, and you aren't to complain. you take your time to calm your breathing, before taking the phone in your hands again. it was new, and different, but most importantly, fucking good.
the euphoria doesn't last long, the look of horror replacing the one of pure bliss on your face. right under wooyoung's message stood yours.
voice message sent.
it is you shamelessly whimpering and grunting, mere four seconds of it, yet enough to make wooyoung save it in the chat.
wooyoung: is it christmas already?
wooyoung: i keep getting present after present. what did i do to deserve it?
wooyoung: i better go fix the problem you've created.
wooyoung has sent a picture! tap to view.
the picture is dark, but there is just enough lighting for you to see his defined v-line and the bulge in his sweatpants. you bite the inside of your cheek, suppressing a smile. you made someone horny. not just anyone, but wooyoung, a porn creator. he has surely seen lots of things, how come a fully clothed picture and a four second audio could get him in the mood?
you have saved the picture in the chat!
in the next few days, you ask yunho to pick up the beverage from the coffee shop while you grab something to eat. he is happy that you started including breakfast in your day, and isn't yet aware that you are only avoiding the man he also knew about. perhaps wooyoung worked different shifts, and they didn't have an encounter yet? it's a bit cruel towards yunho, but you can't make yourself go in there. not until you've grown some dignity.
today, yunho isn't here. he has only answered to your message, saying that he has a flu, and that he will be resting for a day or two. which leaves you to getting the coffee on your own. you run from the rain, your umbrella broken and swimming away somewhere down the road. you would've picked it up and threw it away, really, if that lighting wasn't so close to you and you started running for your life. you are soaked, the hoodie stuck to your skin and the shorts uncomfortable and heavy. you hurriedly enter the coffee shop and exhale, the warmth of the place caressing your cold cheeks. you notice the place is empty, and the chairs are neatly tucked under the tables. the surfaces have been freshly wiped, and no menus or decorations were on them.
you approach the counter, ready to grab your beverage and leave before you make a bigger mess. nobody is there, the syrups and coffee cans are neatly placed on the shelves, not a drop of water visible on the counters. your eyes notice a little board, with pink letters on it.
due to sudden illness of two out of three workers, we are forced to work short hours this week. thank you for understanding!
underneath, you see that they work until four in the afternoon. you check the time, and upon noticing that it is just two minutes before four, you sigh. you turn around, ready to leave and rid the poor worker of trouble after they already prepared the place for closing.
"oh, i'm terribly sorry, i didn't notice you!"
the voice makes your blood run cold, and once again, you find yourself frozen in spot. only this time, you are all alone with him. no people surrounding you. just him, you, and the crazy weather outside.
"please, feel free to order. you have a minute and a half to place it!"
you turn around, eyes locking with brown ones. he is smiling sweetly, pointing towards the menu above his head.
"i don't want to bother you. you've cleaned the whole place and-" your eyes drop on the see through shirt hugging his body "-you've already taken your apron off."
"luckily, my boss is sick too so she can't give me crap about it. i can make your drink without it."
you make your way towards the counter again, eyes skimming over the menu, knowing damn well what you're going to order. you just have to buy yourself time so you can calm down. the scent of jasmine is taking over your senses, creeping into your mind and bringing back memories you wish so hard to forget so you can move on with your life. he is tugging you into the void, and you have nothing to get you out of there. you haven't heard from him since the day you rode the pillow for him, and you didn't have time to watch any of his lives.
"well, then. i'll have a strawberry mocha."
"ah, so it's your usual then."
"yes. extra syrup. and the pearl sprinkles, please."
"and whipped cream, yes", he types in the order, then looks behind. "you know, we have some strawberry cupcakes that didn't sell today due to the weather. would you like one? on the house!"
you hesitate, not wanting to waste his time. he could be home by now, doing something important. like filming himself. or texting you after you've left him on seen. or better said, saved.
"i really don't want to waste your time."
"you're not wasting my time, trust me. besides, i'd rather stay here a little more until my phone finishes charging. i don't want to get stuck in that weather outside with no battery."
he sees you hesitate and eye up the pink pastries, desire obvious in your eyes. he chuckles, then brings the whole tray on the counter.
"tell you what," he grabs the items needed for your beverage, not breaking eye contact with you, "i'll make us two strawberry mochas, and we'll eat those cupcakes so they don't get wasted until the weather calms down. sound good?"
you gulp. the look on your face is a complete opposite of him, as well as your body language. he is relaxed, beaming with confidence, and has a smile on his lips. meanwhile, you are stiff, your face is blank, maybe even scared at the fact that you're gonna be alone with the man who made you cum without touching you. but when thunder echoes through the place, you agree.
it doesn't take him long to make them and bring them to your booth in the corner of the shop. the smell of strawberries is the only thing keeping you sane at the moment. he sits across from you, shirt half unbuttoned, as if it's the warmest day of the spring outside. he doesn't have a care in the world. he silently enjoys the cupcake, occasionally glancing at you. you are slow with yours, careful not to stain your clothes with the pink icing.
"want to try?"
you look over at him. he brings his glass closer towards you, and aligns the straw with your lips.
"isn't it the same?"
"well, no." he laughs awkwardly. "try it, trust me."
you try taking the glass from him, but he is persistent in holding it for you. you wrap your lips around the straw, eyes locked with his dark ones.
"atta girl." he hums.
you swear you could orgasm right there on the spot. you pull at the liquid, cheeks hollowing and creating a perfect scene for him. he is dead serious, the smirks and chuckles long left behind the counter. the moment your tongue tastes alcohol, you push the drink away from you, creamy liquid dripping from your lips.
"fuck, is that whiskey?"
you wipe your top off with your sleeve, not yet realizing wooyoung's intense gaze on your lips.
"yes." he replies, as if it's the most normal thing in the world.
"god, why?" you finally lick the cream off your lips, ridding wooyoung of more fantasies forming in his head.
"it's good. why, don't like alcohol?"
you never really did. sure, you drank some tequilas, and a little gin of course, but not to the point to get drunk or actually go for a full round or two.
"i'm actually quite a virgin when it comes to alcohol."
the words are left hanging in the air, silence wrapping you both up. one might think that you knew exactly what you were doing with the choice of words, but you were plain dense. and wooyoung was here for it. he was whipped for all the innocent sides you were unknowingly showing him, but lord forbid he tells you anything. otherwise, you might stop talking at all.
"you can come over for classes if you want..." he brings the glass back in front of him, a smirk dancing on his lips, "...anna."
"yeah, i don't want any alcohol after my real classes, thank you."
the conversation stops, the only sound being quiet chewing and the rain pouring. wooyoung takes his time to think, and so do you.
"that yunho guy-"
"what do you do in your free time-"
you start at the same time. yunho? how does he know his name?
"you go first," you offer, unwrapping another cupcake.
"that yunho guy, he orders a single strawberry mocha with extra syrup and pearl sprinkles every day when you don't come. whipped cream too, of course. for you, assuming?"
you nod, poking those same sprinkles with your straw. yunho has been a little more absent in your life since this whole thing has started, and you feel bad to admit that you didn't really miss him. you weren't using him for coffee or homework, of course. you still like to occasionally chat with him, just not like before. especially since his feelings are coming more to the surface.
"yes, for me."
wooyoung hums, not asking further questions.
"so uh, wooyoung, right? you're new here?" you opt for a different question, seeing that he didn't remind you to finish the previous one.
"jung wooyoung, yes. i moved from los angeles recently, didn't find my luck there."
"ah, what do you do?"
"porn."
and just like that, the conversation stops. at least from your side. your head hangs low over your paper cup, fingers now playing with the cupcake wrap as you feel his gaze on you.
"are we going to act like you don't know what that is?"
"i know what it is," you stutter, fingers ripping the wrap apart and playing with bits from nervousness, "i just don't quite, you know, fit in that area."
"you sure fit in that night."
you choke on your spit, eyes shooting up to look at him. his elbow rests on the desk, supporting his head, while his other one plays with the empty cup. his finger grazes the corners, slowly circling it, as if trying to help you remember that night and the way the did it to the toy. your mouth goes dry, and you feel at his complete mercy.
"how-" you clear your throat, the roughness of it a dead giveaway that he caught you, "-how did you, uh, know?"
"you're telling me you saw nothing wrong with entering the coffee shop with that hoodie on, knowing full well i work here?"
you look down at the hoodie you're wearing. how fucking ironic, that it's the same hoodie you posed in for him. you really are that dense.
"i should get going."
"i can drive you home. you're not thinking of walking in this weather?"
him and you? in such a small space? for such a long time? what if you blurt out more stupid things, as if you haven't embarrassed yourself enough today? you wouldn't blame him if he left you on the side of the road.
the train of thoughts is interrupted by your name rolling off his lips so sweetly, dripping milk and honey. your actual name, not the fake one you gave him.
"yes?"
"i'm not camboy wooyoung now. i'm just wooyoung, your friendly barista. and when i say i can and want to drive you home, i mean it. no funny business. the last thing i want to do is make a loyal costumer uncomfortable."
it doesn't take long for him to clean up the table and grab his phone from the charging station. you patiently wait by the door, ears and cheeks warm from the unfamiliar situation you've found yourself in. you follow his commands, such as coming behind the counter and slipping through the staff door so that the cameras don't catch you. you squeeze into the pantry, waiting for him to lock the doors one by one.
"so, that yunho guy didn't take your virginity yet?" he blurts out, as if it is the most normal question he could ask.
"what?"
"well," he turns around, facing you, "he is your boyfriend after all, isn't he?"
"that's not quite- oh-" you are pressed into the corner, with wooyoung blocking the way out. he puts his hands on the wall, trapping you between his arms and forcing you to look at him.
"does your boyfriend know that you watch filth and film yourself for another man?"
"he isn't-"
"does he know that his innocent little girlfriend is alone with that same man inside an empty coffee shop, away from everyone?"
you fail to answer, instead opting for silence. your eyes fall on his exposed chest, fingers yearning to touch. you feel a hand under your chin, gently lifting your head up so that you can look at him again. you see pure desire in his eyes, and now you know exactly what the authors mean when they say that his eyes darkened with lust. you are witnessing it first hand, and now that you are finally here, you are not acting the way you did in your mind.
he brings his face close to yours, his loose hair strands tickling your cheeks. his breathing is shallow, much like yours, and when he slowly presses his lips against yours, you breathing stops completely. he holds your chin in his hand, thumb gently rubbing your cheek, while his other hand finds its place on your hip. he pulls your body into his, and ever so gently bites down on your bottom lip.
your first normal kiss ever. with the man you watched masturbate on a crucial studying night. he pulls away, just enough to move your hair out of the way.
"am i making you uncomfortable?" he asks, concern taking over his features.
"no," you whisper, not trusting your voice.
"you sure?"
"please keep kissing me." you look up at him, and wooyoung swears that he has never seen such big pleading eyes in his entire life. just how can he deny you such a thing, when you asked him so sweetly and innocently?
wooyoung loses control, and lets his heart take over. his hands grab your waist, picking you up and seating you on a nearby surface, knocking some cups and cutlery over in the process. his lips are pressed against yours again, moving slowly until you get used to it. your hands hesitantly wrap around his neck, fingers playing with the hair on it. wooyoung exhales into your lips, absolutely whipped for your little gestures.
you are soaking wet. you hope he doesn't feel it, considering he has your legs wrapped around his waist and your cunt pressed against his firm torso. with each kiss he so generously delivers you, a new batch of butterflies gets released in your stomach, making you feel all giggly and excited. he smells absolutely heavenly, and the way his tongue is grazing your lips is driving you mad. his fingers press into your thigh, feeling the flesh and lightly squeezing it. so he really does have a thigh fetish.
you whine when he pulls away from you, only to attach his lips to your neck. he drags his tongue down the side of your neck, to your collarbone. his hands sneak under your hoodie, lingering on your bare skin for a moment. you realize he is waiting for a sign to keep going, so you help him raise your hoodie right under your chest.
"should i stop?"
you didn't quite picture him as a man who would ask for consent multiple times. but then again, he is a man. not a boy. and just like he said: right now, he isn't camboy wooyoung. he is your friendly barista wooyoung. a particularly touchy friendly barista wooyoung. not that you're complaining.
"angel?"
absolutely lost in the way he is looking at you, you fail to answer. you feel so small in his arms, and so inexperienced when it comes to simple kissing. god, what if he wants something more right away?
"i need to know you're comfortable. i won't do anything if-"
you stop him by taking his hand and placing it on your breast. he gulps, gently squeezing the soft flesh. why does he seem so nervous? doesn't he fuck multiple people in a span of a month?
he rubs your tense buds, sending little shockwaves to your core. as soon as you lift the hoodie to your collarbones, wooyoung is quick to take your bud into his mouth. he teases with the tip of his tongue, making you twitch and yelp in his grip. you aren't used to this type of pleasure. it's new, and intensive. you love it.
his other hand keeps up the pace his tongue has set, rubbing slow circles on the sensitive buds. you struggle with breathing, and your hands are reaching out to grab anything; the counter, his shoulders, his hair, the counter again, and so on. your head falls back, and the feeling of pure bliss pools in your stomach. you feel like you could orgasm any moment, yet it never happens. wooyoung switches between each bud, treating them both equally. a particularly breathy moan leaves your mouth, making wooyoung hum. he is pleased with the way you're responding to him, so jumpy and whiny while he feasts on your body.
when he pulls away, you see a string of saliva connecting his lips with your breast. you moan at the sight, feeling adrenaline running through your veins and waiting to explode somewhere in your body. wooyoung drops down on his knees, fingers hooked in the elastic band of your shorts.
"if i don't get crushed between your thighs right now, i don't think i'll live to see another day."
even from that position, he is emitting insane dominant energy, and you are just a marionette in his hands.
"please."
you raise your hips just enough to help him pull the shorts down, along with the panties. you are thankful that they are the new ones you had discovered this morning since buying them a month ago. though, they were ruined with your arousal anyway and wooyoung probably couldn't care less. but instead of tossing them aside, he raises them in front of his eyes, admiring them.
"that's so fucking adorable."
they are plain pastel panties, with a small row of lace on the top of it. you figure he is used to strings and thongs, and how new a normal set of panties must seem to him. wooyoung folds the panties, and stuffs them in his pocket. too taken aback by his action, you do not have time to react when he places your legs over his shoulders.
"you don't have to cum. i just want to show you how good it can be."
you mean you want to leave me yearning for your touch as if i am not desperate enough?
"is that alright? can i lick you until you pass out?"
he knows exactly which words drive you insane. as if he was living in your head since you discovered the first young adult fantasy book. you nod, then breathe in. the sudden lighting outside makes you aware of where you are. you are about to have your cunt devoured by none other than the new barista everyone around you is crushing on, in one of the staff rooms. soft café music is heard in the distance now that the rain has calmed down, and it is only adding up to the rather odd, but once in a lifetime situation you are in.
a flat, wet muscle presses against your folds, softly licking up your arousal and stopping at your clit. you try to close your legs at the new feeling of pleasure, but wooyoung is quick to grab your thighs and keep them apart just enough so he can get you used to the feeling. your legs shake as the tip of his tongue massages the tip of your clit, pure pleasure taking over your body and completely shutting your brain off. you are a whining mess, shaking in his arms, pulling at his hair, and whatnot. his eyes never leave your face, memorizing every eyebrow scrunch, every eyeroll, every moan and every hand movement. he is entirely mesmerized by your existence. he has never seen anyone let their guard down like this and put themselves at his complete mercy.
he switches between techniques, not yet allowing you to work up your orgasm. he figures you like circles with the tip of his tongue best, they have you being more vocal and squirmy in his hold. wooyoung then snakes his hands under your bottom, gently lifting your lower body so that your head and shoulders lay comfortably on the wooden surface. your hips are in the air, and your legs hang off his shoulders. you are confused by the position he has you in, until he dives into your cunt once more. you moan, fingers reaching to pull at his soft hair. this time he doesn't separate your thighs, but instead presses his face further into your arousal and squishes your flesh against his cheeks, licking every drop you have to offer him.
"wooyoung-" you whine, hips subconsciously grinding against his face.
"good, good girl." he hums, lips closing around your bud and sucking on it.
you clench, body tensing up upon feeling the orgasm approaching.
"fuck- fuck-" you whine, hands gripping the shelves above your head.
wooyoung slows his movements to the max, carefully sliding his tongue up and down your clit, driving you insane with the orgasm delay. you want to cum so bad, but everything feels too much, you are sweating so bad, and the position you are in is making you more vulnerable and sensitive.
"please, please, please, pretty please" you beg, voice already betraying you and cracking at the end.
wooyoung groans against your cunt, then moves away. you gasp with surprise. all the pleasure leaves your body, and you are now laying on the surface again. you support yourself on your elbows, enough to look at him and ask just why he stopped.
"prettiest cunt i've ever seen in my life." he caresses your skin above it.
"why-" you breathe out, "- why did you stop? i was so, so close-"
"i had to, angel. i don't want you cumming in a pantry on an uncomfortable surface."
you watch him lick his lips, disbelief evident on your face. he chuckles, picking your shorts up from the floor.
"panties?"
"i'll get you new ones."
were the panties really that interesting to him? wooyoung reaches for something above your head, pressing his lips on your forehead before grabbing paper towels. you are sensitive to his touch, feeling overstimulated and irritated even though you didn't orgasm. he patiently wipes you, then pulls your shorts up, not forgetting to caress your thighs along the way.
"come here." he instructs.
you sit up, feet swinging from the counter. the man in front of you pulls you in for a kiss, this time a short one.
"you did very good. i hope you get your real orgasm somewhere comfy."
he hopes? was this a farewell? he had his little fun with you, and now he is no longer interested?
"come on, the weather is calmer now. i'll still drive you home though."
and just like that, he proceeds outside, leaving you with thoughts for a few moments. you feel a little humiliated, and very vulnerable and exposed. still, you follow him outside, and get into his car. it is a neat car, that you notice. it smells like an ocean breeze, and he has a camera above his steering wheel.
"not for porn," he interrupts your thoughs.
you have forgotten about that side of him. in the moment, it seemed like he was just a normal guy who hooked up with you because he thinks you are cute. in reality, he is probably bored of all those skilled partners and wants something new, so he used you as a little project. you feel hurt, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes as you look out the window. you haven't spared him a single glance, scared that he might be pitiful towards you. that's the last thing you need.
"right, then left?" he asks, steering the wheel with one hand.
"yeah."
it doesn't take long before the car stops in front of a familiar building. you don't see yunho's car, and just then remember that he is sick and resting at home. wooyoung has clouded your mind so much that you don't have any other thoughts, only ones about him.
"thank you for sharing the cupcakes with me." he winks, then unlocks the door.
you aren't ready to say goodbye just yet. if you leave the car, will everything be back the way it was? him acting like he doesn't know you, and vice versa? are you supposed to go in there and order your strawberry mocha from him like it doesn't associate you with today's event?
"wooyoung?"
"yes, angel?"
you play with your fingers in your lap, deciding which words would be the best to make him stay in your life just a little longer.
"can you teach me?"
"teach you?"
"yes. you are so experienced, and i am just a dumb virgin with a big imagination."
he stops to think. he bites the inside of his cheek, and you mimic him.
"i'd destroy you."
you clench around nothing, hearing his raspy voice say such words to you. you know he means them, you saw him mean them. but you are up for it. anything, just to get another taste of him.
"i don't mind."
he sighs, smile still dancing on his lips. "just what are you?"
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since the day you had your first orgasm denial, you have heard from him only once, and only because you sent the message first.
i'm not seeing those panties again, right?
wooyoung: nope.
okay
okay? okay??? you could at least put some effort into flirting. you are only pushing him away, instead of inching towards another meeting, this one preferably ending with an orgasm. the notifications about his lives were now regulars on your phone screen, and though you never quite watched them, you like to think he does it for you. slight jealousy has appeared, and you have to stop it before it spreads. but after all, you are the one that has gained his attention.
you decide to visit yunho. he has been sick for quite some time, and has been rarely answering your messages. you have prepared him his favourite soup, and bought his favorite chocolate bar.
"yunnie, you're alive!"
you jump into his arms, forgetting that he might still be weak from being sick. but he catches you effortlessly, a fond smile on his lips as he keeps your body close to him.
"feeling better?"
"almost." he replies, gently setting you down on the floor. "how have you been?"
"bored, honestly. i miss gossiping with you and getting yelled at by other students. oh, turns out mark did cheat on jenna!"
"knew it."
yunho makes his way to the kitchen to grab you a drink and put away the food you brought him, and you can't help but notice how buff he has gotten since the last time you saw him. he was probably well built before too, but you've never seen that man in anything other than oversized t-shirts and hoodies. right now, he is wearing one of those compressive exercise sleeveless tops, every bump and curve visible on his toned body. you notice how big his arms are, and just how tall he is.
you feel familiar warmth between your legs, and you have to sit down to stop any funny business. he is speaking, but all you can do is stare at the way his hands are handling the drinks. his hands are much bigger in comparison to wooyoung, and his physique overall is making you melt right there on his couch.
"so? sound good?"
you look up, pupils dilated and cheeks warm and red. he is confused by your sudden change in expression, before he realizes that you weren't even listening. he sighs, giving up on the weekend trip proposal.
"what is it with you?" the man hands you a glass of apple juice, along with a granola bar he knows you love to steal from his cupboard.
"nothing, why?" you reply too quickly.
he laughs, mixed confusion and amusement. he sits next to you, leaving a little space in between. the way he drops his head back on the backrest and manspreads isn't helping your situation. wooyoung has opened a door that cannot be closed anymore.
fuck, wooyoung.
"you know, i thought i was gonna die. my headache was so bad i heard thumping inside it."
"does it hurt now?"
"not really, no. but i do think i still have a little fever. can you check?"
you lean over on your knees, fingers gently moving his hair out of the way. upon reaching over for the thermometer from the coffee table, you slip between the couch cushions, making yunho jolt and grab your waist. you have to close your eyes for a moment, sensory overload getting the worst of you. your clothes suddenly feel so tight and itchy, his breathing is loud and right there in your ears, and his hands are burning on your skin over the fabric of your top.
"watch it, little one," he says.
you know he means the nickname as a sign of fondness towards you, but in the situation where you're acting like an animal in heat, it is doing wonders to you. knowing that he is big, much bigger than you, and calling you that is making your stomach boil.
you want to make a move. no matter how wrong it would be. you want to lean in and kiss him, make him feel you up and down, make him touch you right here on the couch, where you cuddled and watched movies since knowing each other.
"why are you looking at me like that?" his voice is suddenly raspy.
"like what?" you whisper, afraid of your infamous cracking tone.
"like you want to fuck me."
not far from truth. not exactly fuck, rather just have a little fun to get some heat out of you. his hands never leave your waist, instead pulling your body into his lap. you've been in this position many times, mainly being tickled and begging for mercy. now? you're ready to beg for his tongue on you.
"i-"
a familiar ringtone interrupts you, and you feel him tense up underneath.
"pick it up." he says, lazily looking at you through half closed eyelids.
"uh, yes," you stutter, reaching towards the table to grab your phone.
you almost faint seeing the name on your screen. you don't want to pick up. not now. any other time, yes. but right now? not quite convenient.
"go on, answer it." yunho encourages, not knowing the consequences of his action.
but you do it anyway. what is there to lose? lose yunho, gain wooyoung. and vice versa. how fucking evil of you. acting like a bitch in heat, listening to your pussy instead of your morals.
"yes?" you answer, breath hitching when yunho starts caressing your sides.
"hi, angel."
yunho's touching stops. he is now focused on the male voice coming from your phone, the name of the contact not visible from your hair.
"let me see you tonight? i'll take you out for a ride and a dinner."
"tonight?"
"yes. unless you have plans? i just got my motorcycle back from the auto mechanic, thought i'd show you there's thrilling stuff other than an orgasm denial in a public space."
yunho removes his hands completely from you, but lets you sit on his lap. you witness his face morph from flirty to mixed anger and disappointment, though he is trying very hard to hide it. the red tips of his ears are a dead giveaway, and you wish you could feel guilty.
"i have no plans. the ride sounds nice."
"good girl. i'll pick you up same place i dropped you off the other day, six o'clock?"
"sound good."
"good. i'll see you in around two hours then?"
"yes."
"chatty as usual, i see. i'll get you to talk tonight, no worries."
and with that, he hangs up. it is only then that yunho sits you on the couch next to him, while he stands up. you are numb to his reaction, excitement boiling in your veins in anticipation for tonight.
"do you enjoy hurting me?"
he shoots the first arrow through your heart.
"do you love seeing me suffer? do you enjoy bringing me to tears almost every time we meet?"
you have just uncovered something that has been cooking for a long time, and you know you are at fault. you just fail to feel wrong for it.
"it was fine at the beginning, you showed no signs of interest whatsoever. but now? the last month or two? you are driving me fucking insane."
when yunho starts swearing, you now it is bad.
"and to think that i'd actually have a chance. that you'd open yourself up for me so i can prove to you how well i can treat you. i deserve a global idiot award."
you don't speak. you let him rant, knowing that he would only get worked up more if you spoke. none of the things you had to say were comforting, so being silent was the better option.
"get the fuck out of my house."
it is the first time you see him so angry and aggressive. with full right. so you silently take your belongings, turning your back on him without a proper goodbye.
"and take this with you. i don't need anything from you." he shoves the box you had brought him into your hands.
he looks at you, teary eyed, fighting hard to keep them from spilling. you've never seen yunho cry. ever. of joy? yes. but almost shaking while holding back tears and biting his lips to keep them from quivering? perhaps it's just anger and frustration. either way, you fucked him up. and there's nothing you can do, other than leave him be.
"i hate you."
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six o'clock rolls around quite quickly. you stand in front of a motorcycle, quite bigger than you imagined. wooyoung takes his helmet off, then steps off the motorcycle. he examines you, from head to toe, a little puzzled.
"skirt? odd choice, considering that i told you we were using a motorcycle."
wooyoung then pushes your hair back, removing it from your face and letting it fall on your back. he puts the helmet on you, a slight smile on his lips as he secures it.
"you're so fucking cute it hurts. look at you in your skirt and ballerinas."
your cheeks burn from his compliments, your thighs rubbing under the delicate material. wooyoung plays with the ends of the skirt, then slips his hands on your bare skin.
"want to sit at front?" he purrs, gaze gentle and lips turned into a fond smile.
"i actually never... well, this is my first time seeing it up so close."
"so i'm your first motorcycle too? i feel honoured."
"I don't really know how to... you know, anything."
whenever you're around him, your vocabulary becomes very limited and poor. for someone who reads so much, you're struggling quite good with putting together simple sentences.
"your only job is to sit still and be pretty for me. got it?" he cups your face with one hand and gently caresses your jaw with his thumb.
you nod, not trusting yourself with speaking while he touches you in such ways.
"come on now. hop on."
you are sat in front of him, hands trapped under his while gripping the handles. you are stiff, and even if he notices, he doesn't react. he starts off slow, enough to not scare you off immediately. at one point, right at the last traffic light before exiting the city centre, he speeds up, the front of the motorcycle hanging in the air for a split second, but enough to make you gasp and fall back against his chest. you hear him chuckle near your helmet, his hand coming to rest on your hip enough to comfort you.
"i got you," he says, squeezing your hip.
you now lay comfortably against him, enjoying the smooth ride on the highway. you are alone on the road, the opposite direction crowded due to people returning home from work. you haven't felt such thrill ever. the way wooyoung controls the vehicle and smoothly changes lanes, to the way he speeds up and does the wheelie again, this time a little higher, is making you see stars. you scream, but the playful way. adrenaline rushes through your veins, and you are laughing, having the most fun of your life. he isn't saying much, and even if he was, you don't hear him. you feel comfortable in his embrace, trusting him with your life on this silent road lit by neon lights on the fences.
you gasp when you feel his cold fingers on your thigh, the texture odd. you look down, only to see that his other hand has a leather glove on, and is slowly dipping between your legs. he slows down, enough to pay more attention to you without any danger nearby. the cold leather touches your folds near your panties that have slightly moved from the reckless driving. he realises the advantage, and proceeds to rip apart the fabric. you moan at the action, remembering all those worn out pages of your books describing men ripping women's bras and panties. and now, you're a character in that page, hopefully about to have an orgasm of your lifetime.
the cold leather touches you once again, a single finger toying with your soft bud, just enough to have you panting. your head falls on his shoulder, searching for support. he circles your clit, playing with the soft flesh and checking just how wet you are getting.
"want me to stop?" he asks, and when you shake your head, he dips his fingers below your clit.
you flinch at the unfamiliar feeling, not feeling the pleasure anymore. he notices, but tries to enter once again, this time more gentle and slow. you flinch again, your head no longer resting on his shoulder. he removes his hand, gripping the handle again as he slows the vehicle. he stops at the nearby platform, the neon fence lights shining on the stone table and two benches. he gets off the motorcycle, then helps you off too. your ripped panties hit the floor, your folds caressed by the highway breeze. he takes his helmet off, hanging it on one of the handles, then helps you with yours.
you are suddenly hyperaware of the situation you are in. far from the city and people, alone in the dark with still a complete stranger, with nothing but a top and a skirt on. nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. nobody to call.
"shit, hey." wooyoung cups your face, seeing sudden anxiety on it. "do you want me to drive you back?"
you take a moment to think. if he really meant evil, wouldn't he do something by now? he wouldn't comfort you, right? wouldn't offer you a ride back? or is this just a little foreplay for him before he does something to you and leaves you to rot here?
"i mean it," the man caresses your cheeks with his thumbs.
"no, i'm good. i think."
"i am not doing anything until i am sure of it."
"no, no, i really am. i just..." you trail, looking around, "...i am very new to all of this, that's all."
wooyoung takes both of your hands, guiding you towards the stone benches and table. he sits you on the table, and he sits on the bench in front of you. he doesn't break eye-contact with you as he rubs your thighs, slightly squishing the flesh for your comfort and for his pleasure. he doesn't go further though. he gives you time to relax, until your feet start slightly swinging off the table from boredom.
"tell me about yourself."
"like what?"
"anything. just talk. i want to hear you speak. you don't do much of it, and you have such a pretty voice, especially when you make those little moans."
your cheeks are burning, and you can only look down at your hands playing with the hem of your skirt.
"come on, tell me. what do you do except studying and riding pillows these days?"
you want to say that you don't ride pillows, but the playful smile on his lips is too sweet to ruin it.
"i read, like, a lot."
"what genre is your favorite?" the man's voice is now low and raspy, his hands now slowly sliding underneath your knees.
"take a wild guess?"
"erotica?" he laughs.
you laugh with him, not yet aware of his little plan and the reason he brought you to a place far from people.
"well, tell me. what did you learn from it?"
it's like a switch was found on you. wooyoung is taking in every word you are so excitedly giving him, every expression you make as you remember various paragraphs that had you touching yourself late at night, or sometimes in the middle of the day at most random places.
"no way, you touched yourself in your college bathroom?" he is in disbelief.
"believe it or not, it becomes stronger than me. so, yes. multiple times, actually."
"what exactly did you do?" wooyoung asks, genuinely interested.
you have passed the shame barrier. the way he is caressing your skin and so comfortably talking to you about these things have you finally dropping your walls down. not even your friends have made it this far into the conversation without a smart remark or a grimace.
"just, rubbing myself, i guess? ah, i once used a water bottle to do it. it was so hot that day, and my bottle was wet and cold, and my brain just clicked."
wooyoung seems impressed, nodding his head with approval.
"i might have touched myself a little in the last row of the classroom."
"oh?" he is intrigued, mind already picturing you hidden in the last row behind your studying laptop, faking the writing while your other hand played with his new favorite thing in the world. "like this?"
the sudden contact with your clit makes you jolt, a gasp escaping your lips. he spins it in slow circles, much like you in that boring class. you breathe slowly, mouth already running dry from the sight in front of you. wooyoung stares deep into your eyes, tongue wetting his lips, and his hair messy from the highway wind. he looks incredibly good in his leather jacket and the chain necklace. you can hear yourself becoming wet, noises making both of you breathe shallow and feeding your lust drive. you feel exposed under the neon lights, under wooyoung's stare, on the side of the road. yet the pleasure is overpowering everything, and you find yourself shamelessly grinding your hips against his thumb. his confidence is affecting yours, and seeing him not give a single fuck about the location or the passerbies, it is unleashing something inside of you.
"fuck, angel, even your cunt sounds so cute."
you give yourself a moment of bravery, fingers hooking under his chain necklace and pulling his body towards you. your lips touch his, warm plush making your thighs clench. he chuckles against you, then leaves a few pecks on your bottom lip. he tugs it between his teeth, gently biting it and swiping his tongue on it. you give yourself to him, completely at his control, and only follow what he does.
he removes his hand from you, resulting in a whine leaving your mouth. he laughs again, pulling away for a moment.
"patience, baby. you're doing very good."
he kisses you again, his hands snaking around your waist and under your top. he feels your skin, the lace of your bra, plays with the hook, but doesn't undo it yet. he grazes your spine with his trimmed nails, giving you goosebumps. you shiver in his hands, wanting nothing more but to relax in his hands and have him do that to you all night long.
his tongue is restless against yours, gently rubbing against it, teeth accidentally clashing from the passion getting the most out of him. he wants all of you, right here, right now. but he can't have you just yet. like he said, he would destroy you. he can't hold back that much. he almost melts when he feels your fingers gently tug at his hair, your other hand subconsciously resting on his chest. he thinks it's cute how you are at a position above him and higher than him, yet he still has all the control over you. he also thinks it's cute how your legs are still swinging from the stone table, while you kiss him back and try to keep up with him. your kisses are short, your tongue soft, and your hair is tickling his cheeks, a complete opposite of his deep and long kisses, with an occasional teasing bite.
"wooyoung," you mumble, pulling away.
he hums, waiting for you to respond. you rest your forehead against his, taking a moment to breathe normally again.
"i want to cum on your tongue, please?" you ask so sweetly, big eyes staring into his.
"i had something else in mind, though. but i'll see what i can do, since you asked me so nicely."
he isn't sure how he can feel so soft and so hard for someone. you are the first one that is actually taking his time with him and listening to him to make it all more enjoyable. the rest of them wanted it quick, and frequent. he prefers it this way now, with more lust building up, and he knows the result will pay off. maybe you are growing impatient, maybe you'd just smack him right there on the spot, but he is very fixed on his idea, and he loves that you are listening him so patiently.
"lay down for me."
you lay on the cold surface, elbows digging into the uneven stone while they support your upper body so you can look at him. your breath hitches when his hand slides up your body, between your breasts, and up to your lips.
"open up."
and you do, taking his two fingers into your mouth. you swirl your tongue around them, slow, maintaining eye-contact with him. you are pretty sure you're dripping all over the table now, if not all over his pants too. he toys with your tongue for a while, too immersed in the way you're licking him up.
fuck, how good you'd take his cock. he'd push so slow between your glossy lips, which he would coat with his precum, and he would gently test your limits and have you gagging around him. wooyoung stops the train of thoughts before it was too late, and pulls his fingers out of your mouth. he then runs them up and down your slit, toying with the folds more than the clit. you want to groan from frustration, but you have to be patient, just like he said.
he spreads your folds, tongue diving right into the tip of your clit. your fingers reach into his hair, pulling at the dark strands and burying his head deeper into your cunt. he is loving every bit of it, willingly pushing himself deeper between your thighs and squishing them around his head. you hear him suck and lick, setting your heart on fire, and making your blood boil.
"wooyoung-" you gasp, clit abused by his restless muscle.
he only hums against you, lips sucking you slowly but with power. you don't know how loud you are, nor do you care. you let your voice loose, calling out his name, whining, bucking your hips into his mouth, moaning and chasing the orgasm that has already started to pool at the bottom of your stomach.
his fingers let go of your folds, instead focusing on a new place. he toys with your entrance, sending weird sensations through your body. ever so slowly, he pushes one finger inside, making you hold your breath at the uncomfortable feeling.
"that hurts-" you whine, all the pleasure gone.
"you can take it, right? for me?"
you look down at his eyes, the neon lights shining inside them.
"watch," he mumbles, nodding his head towards your drenched pussy.
you do as told, watching as his finger disappears into you, each pump a little less uncomfortable. he curls his finger upwards, unlocking a whole new sensation for you. you moan, more at the sight than the feeling. something about his veiny hand working on you and disappearing so smoothly inside of you is more arousing to you than a whole movie sex scene.
"i'm adding another one, alright?"
you gulp, then nod. you watch him carefully insert two fingers, slowly stretching you out. inch by inch, he fully inserts them, all the way to the knuckles, and stays there for a while.
"atta girl." he says, tone low and raspy, dripping with desire.
"it's too much," you whine, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.
"just a little more, angel. i promise, it'll feel good." he coos, cupping your jaw with his other hand and caressing your cheek. "can you do that for me?"
you nod, fighting hard to push the tears back. the last thing you want is to turn out a coward, after all those erotica books you've told him about. reading about all that monster porn, fairy porn, and whatnot, yet you can't take two human fingers. pathetic.
"look at you, taking me so well." he praises, moving his fingers at a faster pace now.
you feel your hole stretching for the first time, and you are not sure if the sensation you are feeling is enough to make you cum. you stay still, watching him work on you, and focusing on relaxing your muscles around him. he curls his fingers up again, and another moan escapes your lips. he leans in, just enough to feel you breathe into his mouth. proper moans finally leave your mouth, and you leave all the gasps and shallow breathing behind. you shamelessly moan into his mouth, hands gripping anything they can; from his clothes and chain, to his hair and shoulders. you rock your hips along with his pumps, finally finding a path towards the sweet release. but wooyoung shows no intention of speeding up, even though you tried taking the matter into your own hands. you feel like spilling over any moment now, but the way he switches between slow and slower is driving you crazy.
"shit," he curses, suddenly pulling your body into his lap.
you moan when you sit on his fingers, knuckles trapped deep in your hole. you don't have time to process what is happening, a bright light shining into wooyoung's eyes and your back.
another motorcycle stops beside his, two people your age getting off of it.
"hey, what's up?" the stranger greets, politely waving.
the girl doesn't spare you a glance, but instead opts to stare at wooyoung.
"we're just gonna take a five minute break, sorry to bother you guys." the young man explains.
"that's fine," wooyoung smiles back.
the stranger then leaves behind one of the trees, and the girl takes a seat on the opposite of you two.
"aren't you, like, jung wooyoung?" her voice is pure torture, squeaky and fake.
"uh, yes."
"you have an enormous dick, babe. fuck, i masturbate to you almost every night."
your heart clenches, but apparently, so does your pussy, because wooyoung is quick to give you another stretch of his fingers inside you. you bite your lip, head falling on his shoulder. your back is turned towards the girl, so you cannot see if she is doing anything to get wooyoung's attention away from you. you don't like it.
"glad you enjoy my content," he replies calmly, as if he gets that every day.
maybe he does. and just then, you remember what wooyoung is. he is a cam boy, a porn star. he isn't a guy who took you on a date outside of the city. he is just someone who got tired of fucking experienced people and wants to try something new. you bite the inside of your cheek, tears gathering in your eyes now for a whole different reason.
it's his fault that he's so nice to you. didn't he say he would destroy you? you have developed a crush on him, and you didn't even realize. you need to back off, as soon as possible, before you become one of his toys for views. and with his sweet talk, it could happen without you even processing it first.
"do you do those live fuck invites anymore? i'd love to be your guest sometimes. maybe you know me, i was at top five performers last month?"
"ah, rosiedesires?" he is quick to answer.
his fingers slowly move, and you have to bury your head into his neck to keep yourself from making any noise. he smells heavenly, the scent of musk making you a little dizzy. you don't realize you are panting and whining, until he leans down to your ear.
"be good." he whispers with a little stern tone, nuzzling his nose into your cheek and leaving a quick peck there. if his fingers weren't up your pussy right now, you would've felt butterflies.
you don't know if he is mad at you, or if it's just a part of his play. either way, as bad as you are feeling, you don't want him to stop. you want him to make you cum, so that you can leave and cut all communication with him. you'll manage on your own without him, and there's still yunho. well, was. but knowing his feelings for you, he'll be quick to make up with you.
"friday night sound good?"
"yes, of course. perfect! can't wait, our followers are gonna be so excited."
did he just make a dick appointment while his fingers are deep inside of you? while you are holding back tears on his shoulder? while you are almost biting off the inside of your cheek?
"but wait, i don't do taken people. is that your partner or something?"
"ah no, that's just my coworker. he drives me home every night, we live in the same building. and uh, that..." she trails, probably pointing at you, "...is not your girlfriend?"
"no, no, of course not. she's also someone i've met on the site."
someone i've met on the site.
of course, what else did you think? that he was also falling in love with you? how stupid. now you know how yunho felt. you know exactly how he felt, when you made him feel dumb for having a one sided love. though, this isn't love yet, but still.
"shy, i see. hello, do you speak?"
the way she is talking to you is making you feel humiliated and small. as if you're an alien, asking if you speak.
"whore." you mumble.
"what?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.
you finally raise your head, cheeks puffed and eyes red. wooyoung finally sees how bad he fucked up, and his heart breaks a little at the sight.
maybe it was just the sexual frustration. maybe it was the anger. maybe the disappointment. or maybe just the way she chewed that gum and looked at you like you were a piece of shit on the side of the road. whatever it was, it gave you enough of confidence to repeat yourself.
"whore."
"you stupid bitch," she scoffs, and you almost laugh when you see red lipstick smeared on her teeth as she calls you more names.
"openly talking about fucking a random guy and then getting offended by a single word? fucking weirdo." the words are quicker than your mind, and you feel wooyoung's fingers leaving you and instead gripping your waist.
"listen here, you fucking prude, i will fuck you up-"
"alright, let's take you home." wooyoung interrupts. "rosie, i'll reach out to you these days."
"sure thing, baby."
not so gentle anymore, wooyoung hands you the helmet. the change in his behaviour in front of a different woman is baffling to you. you feel like throwing up, and dropping right there in the middle of the road. anger is building up inside of you, enough for you to push the helmet back into his hands.
"put that on." he orders, brows knitted.
"no." you spit out.
"i will not repeat myself." his tone lowers, yet his gaze darkens.
"you don't have to." you strike back, not aware of the consequences building up.
"do you want to fucking hurt yourself? put this on right now, before i put it on for you."
fear creeps into your body, slow, and grows more with each second that passes and his gaze stays on you. you gulp, suddenly finding yourself in a mental conflict. you do not want to go with him. you want to stay here, curl up under the table and cry until morning, and mourn that little hope you had left and that he crushed. yet he is your only way home. but it is such a long drive, and you don't have the energy to be near him.
so you turn your back, and start walking towards the city lights.
"and just what do you think you are doing?" wooyoung grabs your elbow, pulling your body against his.
"leave me be."
"i asked, what do you think you are doing?" he asks again, gaze not softening.
"i am going home."
"you're-"
"jung wooyoung," you say through gritted teeth," i. am. going. home."
and with that, you start your way to the distant skyscrapers. it hurts you that only two minutes after, two motorcycles pass by you, one of them very familiar. he only spares you a glance through the mirror, then speeds up and disappears.
finally, you cry. loud sobs, chest heavy and body shaking. you drag your legs for what seems like hours, yet the buildings remained the same. you pull out your phone, searching through contacts. nobody is close enough with you for you to call them and pick you up. except your only fast dial, yunho.
what is there to lose? you've reached the bottom anyways.
it takes only two rings for him to pick up, and you fail to greet him. instead, a sob leaves your mouth.
"tiny?" he calls, voice concerned.
"can you please come get me?"
to say that yunho was furious would be an understatement. you haven't told him anything yet, but it was enough to find you sitting alone on a bench outside of the city, on a road where prostitutes and dealers often met, with ripped panties laying on the floor.
his heart is tight, and he feels his throat closing as he approaches you. dark lines decorate your puffed cheeks, the makeup you always so happily put on now a fluid disaster. you run into yunho's arms, finally warm and secure. he buries his noise into your hair, leaving kisses on top of your head as he rubs your back. he knows what to do when you're upset, and you are grateful for that. you need silent support, no questions, no getting you to talk, just someone's presence and comfort. you finally look into his eyes, and just when you thought you cried it all out, you start sobbing again.
"it's okay." he assures you, cupping your face.
"can i stay-" you hiccup, your lungs having a hard time to balance breathing and speaking, "can i-"
you sob again, frustrated because you can't form a sentence. you feel like ripping your hair out because of your stupidity.
"you can stay at my place," yunho understands, gently guiding you towards his car and opening the back door for you.
"no, no-"
"there's more space for you to lay down. trust me, you'll be comfortable."
"i want the front."
"but-"
"please."
yunho doesn't immediately drive to his place. he drives past the highway exits for the city, and you are too tired to question it. you fight to stay awake, but the burning sensation of your eyes is making it quite difficult. every now and then, yunho glances at you, making sure you're alright and comfortable. you have your seat pushed back, and your body turned towards him. it makes you feel safer when you open your eyes and see him in front of you.
the lights are fading, allowing the moonlight to take over and illuminate yunho's face. has he always been this pretty?
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you're skipping classes, opting to stay in yunho's bed instead. you're rotting in his room, only watching him come and go. he has a job, and classes to attend, and by the time he finally gets home, you are fast asleep. the food he so carefully prepares you stays cold on the counter, flies getting to it before you do. it is making him sad, seeing you in such a state. you didn't speak of that night, and he didn't want to ask in case you go further into your shell.
today was no different. you are awoken by his alarm, then him tossing and turning on his side. he is careful to leave a distance between you two, even when he is asleep. you feel the warmth leave the space behind your back, then hear footsteps. you hear shuffling, and you open your eyes to see what he is wearing today.
he wears a plain white t-shirt, black ripped jeans, and a leather jacket. the weather is still confusing, and you are glad you don't have to tell him to bring a jacket with him. he also wears his signature boots, sitting on your side of the bed as he puts them on.
"yuyu?" you call.
"yes, sweetheart?"
"when are you coming home today?"
he stays silent. you think he doesn't hear you, so you repeat. yunho sighs.
"i don't have classes today. and i have a day off."
"oh," is all you can say. you aren't sure if it's a sound of disappointment or surprise. either way, you are not thrilled.
"i'll be back in a few hours."
he doesn't look at you. instead, he stands up, picking up his bag and house keys. you finally sit up straight, blanket still wrapped around you.
"where-" you clear your throat, voice coming out raspy and cracking, "-where are you going?"
"a date."
yunho finally spares you a glance, one enough to let you know that he grew tired of you playing with his emotions, and is tired catering to you when all of his efforts have gone to waste.
"there's food in the fridge if you get hungry. i'm having breakfast outside."
then there you are, again in the dark room, alone with your thoughts. you think about both of them. yunho, who has been by your side for so long, and has respected your boundaries despite his strong feelings. and wooyoung, who is there just a few weeks, yet has such a strong impact on you. you feel discarded by both sides. yunho? justified. wooyoung? not as much.
yes, he is just a porn star. yes, you may be delusional. and yes, he might fuck other people. but the urge in you to feel him just one more time, to let him teach you so you can be good enough for someone you truly care about, is burning inside of you.
bullshit. you want to be good enough for him. you have always been way more intrigued by things you cannot have. wooyoung is an unattainable goal, something you can only dream of having. then again, what do you actually want with him? you only know him sexually, you know nothing about him as a person. you only crave him physically, while you crave yunho emotionally.
but you can't have both, and the way the tables have turned, you are left with neither.
the day is slow, and the sun is going down with the tiktoks on your phone screen. when you feel your stomach tighten and growl, you finally glance at the room around you. it is dark, it smells like old clothes, and the lack of fresh air starts suffocating you. yunho's washed, unironed work clothes sit on his gaming chair, waiting to be ironed by him. it would have been done long time ago, if you didn't take up his whole room.
you switch between the apps, from tiktoks to reels, to youtube shorts, then back to reels. you've seen every video possible, not a single one funny anymore. you feel numb. your stomach is giving you signals, which you so successfully ignore. much like your bladder. it is hitting your ovaries, causing indescribable pain, yet you choose to lay there and mourn over your will to live. you return to the instagram homepage, and when you see yunho's icon in the stories, you just have to click it. when you do, you see him posing with a young woman your age, at the breakfast place you used to visit the first year of college. he has ordered his usual, you notice. and she has ordered yours.
he looks genuinely happy, his smile wide, and his eyes squinted. his arm is wrapped around her shoulders, and the other one holds the phone taking the picture. she is busy holding his face in her hand, lightly squishing his cheeks, just like you like to do.
"fuck me." you groan, then shut your phone off.
as if a switch has clicked inside of you, you run to the bathroom, eager to end your suffering. it takes you less than half an hour to take a shower, put on clean clothes, and do the basic skin care you have ignored for a few days now. you use yunho's expensive products, of course. he won't mind as long as he doesn't know you used them.
by the time the sun sets, the room looks brand new. you have put on new sheets, dusted the shelves, vacuumed the floor, and even ironed his clothes and neatly put them in the closet. the messy notes on his desk were now waiting for him in the drawer, with an attached pink note from you of the solution to the math problem he has been trying to solve on four pages now.
in the kitchen, you fish for ingredients. you decide to make his favorite for when he comes home, to at least thank him somehow for giving you comfort and support these days.
what time do you think you are coming?
yunho: around half an hour to an hour, i think. why?
i am making dinner, i didn't want to start early so it doesn't get cold.
you see the three dots on his screen popping up a few times, then disappearing. you set the phone aside, focusing on the garlic and onion in the pan so they don't get burnt. he loves your pasta bolognese, and won't eat it anywhere but from you. special flavor, he says. you don't have the heart to tell him that you just add in one more spice that the restaurants don't. you don't want to break the little tradition of you making pasta late at night for the two of you.
your phone pings, twice.
wooyoung has started a live! tap to watch.
yunho: i'm not coming for dinner. sorry x
and it's all it takes. really, that's all.
it takes less than five minutes for you to shut off the stove, then settle in the freshly made bed, yunho's boxers already pooling at your ankles. you realize how pathetic you look, getting ready to touch yourself to a guy that left you on the side of the road, in your best friend's bed. but to be fair, you were stubborn too. maybe you just didn't expect him to let you go so easily. maybe you expected him to stay back and comfort you, say sorry because of his harsh actions. or at least reach out to you afterwards. but no, jung wooyoung kept his distance. you checked the messages, regularly. not even an online tag from him. nothing.
until now.
wooyoung has started a live with rosiedairies! tap to watch.
your stomach tightens. is it friday already? time for that dick appointment. your finger hovers over the notificaton, mind working hard to figure out whether or not you can handle looking at something like that. you convince yourself that you can. it's just sex. it's not like you've never seen it before.
your finger taps the notification, and your screen take up two naked bodies, already going at it. it isn't hot at all. you could swear that all your arousal has dried up within two seconds.
wooyoung has the camera showing her face as she stays in doggy position and only his lower body is visible behind her, hips snapping harshly into hers. it doesn't look real. it look so staged and fake, ugly and raw. but she seems to love it, judging by the way her eyes roll to the back of her head and the noises overpowering the ones of skin clapping. wooyoung pulls her hair, and even though you've fantasized about that too, it isn't quite like this. all that hair pulling in your fanfics and books was indeed harsh, but still with a note of passion and love. this? this was pure pain.
"harder, harder-" she chokes, seductively looking at the camera.
what she asks, wooyoung delivers. the grip on her waist makes her skin white, likely to leave bruises afterwards. he picks up the camera, angling it on her bottom and his pelvis. the sight isn't a turn on for you, but you notice the condom, the bruises on her skin, and the scratch marks on his body. the people in the comment section are going feral, giving him orders on what to do to her, on what they'd like to do to him, and sending lots of money. you're grossed out, and just when you are about to exit the site, you hear the front door shut.
you pull the boxers up, jumping out of the bed and making it. you lock your phone, throwing it on the nightstand, before rushing to the bathroom and shutting the door. you hear footsteps, and not double ones like you expected. you fix your hair in the mirror, trying for that i woke up like this look.
"it's me," he announces while entering the room.
"back already?"
"wow."
you fail to hide the smile because of his reaction. he was probably expecting to find you laying under a blanket with your phone on full volume, like he did for the past few days. you didn't even take care of yourself, let alone help him with chores. you wanted to redeem yourself, at least a little bit.
you exit the bathroom as nonchalantly as you can, as if you didn't just do a 180° in the time he was out. he looks even more dashing than when he left. his hair is messy and skin glowing, and his lips have that red tint that suits him so well.
"how was your date?"
"it was great," he avoids your gaze while scratching his neck, "we're going on a second one sunday evening. making it fancy this time."
"that's so awesome! i'm happy for you."
your acting is so convincing, it has yunho feeling disappointed with your behaviour. sure, you wouldn't be jealous. but wouldn't you be bothered at least a little bit? a random girl entering your lives and taking up his free time instead of you, and you are happy?
"what do you say we go out for breakfast tomorrow, and i'll tell you everything?" he tests the grounds.
"sounds wonderful." you don't drop your guard.
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you forget that yunho doesn't know the actual situation with wooyoung. so when he stops in front of the coffee shop the next morning and holds the door open for you, you rather enter than make a fuss out of it. you slide into your usual seat, letting yunho take the orders. the familiar man exits the pantry, smile dropping when he sees his next costumer. he immediately searches for your figure in the seating area, and upon finding you, he fails to hide a smile. you, on the other hand, don't. you stand your ground, poker face on and emotions on standby. for now.
"iced americano and a strawberry mocha?"
"yes," yunho confirms, "extra-"
"extra syrup, whipped cream, pearls. got it."
yunho looks annoyed, but doesn't say anything. he almost throws the money at wooyoung, tells him to keep the change, then joins you at the table.
you finally take a good look at him. each day, he is getting more attractive in your eyes. did he always dress this handsomely? was he always this tall?
"you like my coat?" he laughs, noticing your stare.
"well, yes. suits you. the turtleneck too. when did you get a fashion sense?"
"i've got to attract the ladies somehow." yunho jokes, then becomes serious once he sees wooyoung approaching with the beverages.
the cup is placed in front of you, and right away, you see a difference. knowing that you'll let it slide, yunho decides to speak for you.
"pearl sprinkles. not this rainbow puke."
"i only have rainbow puke." wooyoung scoffs, throwing the paper straws on the table. "drink it, or don't. i don't care."
"you should've told me that when i ordered." yunho keeps pushing, and the tension between the two is making you squirm in the chair.
"well guess what?" wooyoung leans in, one hand on the table, the other on the back of your chair. his face is inches away from yours, eyes fixed on your widened ones.
"get away from her, that's highly unprofessional."
"if she minded, she would've said something," the barista looks over at yunho for a split second, then returns his gaze on you, "but she doesn't mind, do you, darling?"
stuck between not wanting to hurt yunho, and wanting to subconsciously submit to wooyoung, you remain silent. wooyoung stays in the position for what seemed like hours, even though it was mere three seconds of it, then finally takes his position behind the counter.
"right, forgot he's your new boyfriend," the man on your opposite scoffs and takes a sip of his beverage.
"he's not-"
"kiyomi will be here any minute, by the way. can't wait for you to meet her."
"woah, is she okay with meeting me so soon? i mean, your first date was yesterday?"
he shrugs, glancing at his phone, "i don't see why not. you're just a friend. it's not like you're a relative or someone closer."
ouch.
"right," you clear your throat.
as promised, she arrives, breaking the silence and interrupting yunho's twitter scrolling. she's pretty, just like on the picture. the moment she sits next to him and starts talking, you see she is obsessed with him. she is joyful, talkative, optimistic, everything that you currently aren't. you notice wooyoung looking over multiple times, but what you don't notice is the way yunho is examining your face, looking for any clues of jealousy or discomfort.
you seem unaffected, and it makes his heart ache. just what does he have to do to get to you? getting a girl just to experiment didn't work, and now he has to either let the poor girl go or keep fueling her hopes and leave her later, until he gets a reaction from you. yumho hates himself for doing that. but yunho hates you too, as much as he loves you. you break his heart every day, but every time you look at him, you put it back together so easily. he wants to kiss you, as much as he wants to push you away from himself. he is lost in his own emotions, and doesn't know what he wants anymore.
"excuse me, i'll be right back."
"where are you going?" yunho betrays himself, asking you too quickly.
"toilet. wanna come?" you try to lighten the situation with a joke, seeing his date tense up at his reaction.
"ah no, thanks. gross. you go enjoy yourself. don't fall in." he joins in the joke, also taking notice of his partner's body language.
you enter the toilet, ignoring the cash register where wooyoung has busied himself with typing something on the screen. the you in the mirror looks like she is mocking you, your clothes and your behaviour. you've put on the newest dress you had, and you don't even know for who. both of them? you like yunho's soft lingering gaze on you, yet you enjoy the way wooyoung looks a second away from devouring you on that table. it's a simple long sleeved dress, really, paired with knee-high boots yunho had bought you for christmas.
the door swings open, bumping into you and pushing you against the wall. you only catch a glimpse of the familiar apron, before the man cups your face and presses his lips on yours. you are taken aback, body frozen against the cold tiles. wooyoung holds your face gently, lips moving slow as to not scare you off more.
"i'm sorry, i'm so fucking sorry," he whispers against your lips, pecking them a few times before apologizing again.
"wooyoung-"
"please, let me make it up to you. i don't care what that cunt outside says, i don't believe him anyway, just let me make it up to you."
you're having a hard time thinking rationally. do you really trust him enough to not hurt you again? fuck, but his lips feel so good. but oh, how yunho's hugs feel like home.
but nobody has ever shown desire the way wooyoung does.
yet nobody has more patience for you than yunho.
"you're thinking too much. let me fix that."
your lips are trapped by his once again, this time more rhythmic. you give into the touch, erasing the man outside completely from your mind.
"you're so sweet."
you hum against his lips, hands tugging at his white ironed shirt, the first two buttons separated as always.
"so cute." kiss. "so pretty." kiss. "so adorable." kiss. "so perfect."
you're not sure where it is going, but you do not complain. you do not complain when he lifts you on the counter near the sink either, flipping your dress up and ripping your panties again. you feel your core tighten, and you think you'll just never get enough of the picture of him ripping your clothes apart.
"let me make you melt on my tongue. please, god, I need it. i so desperately need you, all of you."
"here?" you ask, glancing at the door.
"here, out there, in the pantry, at your place, my place, everywhere. i'd take you to the roof if you told me to."
"anyone could walk in-"
you gasp mid sentence, cold metal pressing against your clit. wooyoung intentionally rubs your folds with his knuckles, giving you the cold sensation of his rings. your head rests against the mirror, hips already grinding into his hand.
loosing his patience, wooyoung sinks to his knees, your legs resting over his shoulders. he dives in, like it's his last meal. he licks hot stripes up your clit, pointy part of his tongue flicking the tip of it. you moan each time he does so, feeling your bud already becoming abused.
while he usually takes his time with you, today he is quick to separate your legs and go feral on you. his tongue is quick, so quick that it has you shaking uncontrollably against his mouth. you're shuddering, begging, pulling at his hair, all at once. a blabbering mess, as he eats you like there's no tomorrow. he dips his tongue into your arousal, letting out a moan of satisfaction.
"can i please cum?" you ask, knowing that he never lets you. why would today be different?
"no, no. not yet." he moves away, standing up and getting back to your face. "it needs to be special."
"it's just an orgasm, how special can it be?"
"mine always are, believe me. i want to be your first real one. i want you to remember it." wooyoung says as he continues to caress your cheeks with his thumbs.
the action is affectionate, as if he just confessed to having a crush on you and didn't just eat you out. funny how every time you meet him, you end up getting absolutely devoured by him in ways that you didn't even read about. he is passionate about it, to the point that it makes you think that he does it for his own pleasure.
"come over to my place."
"what?" your voice comes out louder than you wanted it.
"my place. i'll take good care of you. give you what you deserve."
you don't have time to reply, he is pulling you off the sink and disappearing into a stall. a quick glance in the mirror is enough to make your hands shoot up to your hair, straightening it and fixing the smeared mascara on the corner of your eyes.
"hey?"
yunho's head peeks inside, scanning the room. he sees you alone, and immediately feels at ease.
"yes, yunho?"
"i just got worried, you've been here for a while." he admits.
"so you left your date alone?" you can't bear to look him in the eyes, not when you just finished messing with the person he saved you from the other night.
"to be truthful, i saw that shitass barista disappear somewhere, and i thought he came after you. i'd hate to think that something happened to you and i was sitting just outside."
you appreciate his truthfulness, and don't have the heart to tell him just how weak to your instincts you are.
"don't worry, i'm good. let's go."
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wooyoung: it's been almost a week
wooyoung: you don't think about me at all?
wooyoung: my offer, i mean. not me.
you don't know if you're being delusional, but you feel like the tables have turned. which is why you have reached out to another friend, one that doesn't have feelings for you and won't try to sabotage, well, whatever this is.
"honestly, from all these messages, you have unknowingly made him chase you. notice how you don't say much and he comes back texting you multiple times?" choi san is quick to explain, using his own flirting skills to decipher the conversation.
he lays on his stomach on your bed, pillow under it and legs swinging in the air. his freshly dyed blonde hair is a dry mess, struggling to hold onto his scalp. you wonder why his job requires him to ruin himself this much.
"now what do i do?"
"well, luckily for you, your lack of communication is what got you an advantage here. let's face it, you're dry as fuck."
"thanks."
"welcome. anyways, in your case, that's good. see? instead of giving up and leaving, he keeps coming back to you. and eating your pussy every time you two meet? are you kidding me? that man is obsessed with you."
at the mention of him eating you, your thighs clench, almost feeling his tongue down there. it is driving you crazy, having so much pleasure yet not reaching the peak. he is torturing you, on purpose.
wooyoung: i'll make you cum so hard you'll never wish for anyone but me
wooyoung: and that's a promise.
two new messages light up your phone, san grabbing it before you can. he covers his mouth, eyes wide as he reads the messages over and over. he unlocks the phone, and begins typing.
"no!"
"i'm doing you a favor!" he exclaims, running around the room and still typing.
you hear the sending sound, and your face heats up. he throws the phone on your bed, and sits right next to you.
"what have you done?"
"see for yourself. that, my dear, is called not being dry."
bold of you to think that i'll only wish for you
"that doesn't sound like me at all! you blew it!"
you are quick to bury your face in a pillow, already mourning all this time you've spent and regretting inviting san to help. but when another notification decorates your screen, you almost jump.
wooyoung: why don't you come over for a demostration?
"you do realize that if you go, you might lose your v-card?"
"i know."
"and you're sure that's the person you want to do it with?"
"yes."
he believes you as much as you believe yourself. you always thought your first time would be somewhere romantic, pre-planned, with the person you love and loves you back. not in the apartment of a porn star. and not with someone that only knows your name.
"you know, my heart really hurts for yunho."
"i invited you to avoid him. why are you bringing him up?" your fierce tone takes him aback, and it takes you aback too, you just manage to not show it.
"wow." san exhales.
"sorry, just- it's none of your business."
"how is it none of my business? i mean, i tried to not get involved, even came here to help you hook up with a complete stranger and help you throw away the best thing that can and will happen to you. i introduced you to yunho, knowing full well on his harmless little crush on you, and knowing full well that you were perfect for him. only to have you-"
"wait a minute, you can't guilt trip me into liking him."
the man in front of you is baffled with your reply, and you feel like you're not looking at one of your close friends anymore. now, you are looking at yunho's best friend, almost his younger brother. you forgot that before you, there was the two of them.
"someone seriously needs to fuck that attitude right out of you. you're acting like an animal in heat."
"well i'm fucking trying to!"
"well you're trying the wrong fucking way!"
"do not tell me who and how to fuck!"
the phone is pinging on your bed, not helping the situation at all. san is looking more disappointed than angry, his eyes becoming scarily dark.
"the fuck do you even know about fucking?"
"i know enough." you don't drop your guard.
san takes a step towards you, examining your face. then another, and another, until you are pushed in the corner of your room with him towering over you. there is nothing attractive about it in this situation, and you wish
"you may know about fucking, but you don't know shit about loving."
"shut up," is the only thing you manage to say, biting back tears.
"i am not guilt tripping you to like or love anyone, but the least you could do is let him down gently and stop playing push and pull with him. giving him hope, then shattering him right after it? not quite moral in my book."
"look, i'm in a difficult situation. i just- i like them both."
choi san laughs, sarcastically. he doesn't find it funny. he just doesn't know how to respond anymore.
"you don't like them both. you like wooyoung, and want to keep yunho as a backup."
"excuse-?"
"save it. i don't even know why i came here, helping you hurt my friend. you have started thinking with your pussy more than your brain, and you're losing people because of it. if you're horny, watch fucking porn."
with that, he grabs his leather jacket off your bed, and storms outside. you are feeling frustrated, angry, and sad. he is right, you know it. but you don't want to admit it. because somehow, in your head, if you don't admit it, it isn't like that. ignoring a problem makes it go away. simple as that.
you want to keep yunho, and his love, and his affection, but you want a taste of wooyoung so bad. so bad that your clit aches when you open his messages, yearning for his cold fingers and hot tongue.
wooyoung: do you like movies?
wooyoung: i thought we could watch the live adaptation of that book you like reading
wooyoung: what was it again?
wooyoung: if you want to, of course
wooyoung has sent a picture! tap to view.
you stop breathing for a moment, thinking of all the things you could expect in that image. you breathe out when you open it, seeing a pullout sofa and a blanket on it, along with snacks and two bottles of soda.
wooyoung: i'd be happy if you joined me :)
why, rosie unavailable?
wooyoung: i'm gonna go ahead and ignore that, for the sake of both of us
whatever that means
why are you the one sabotaging yourself now? yunho isn't here, and san has left too. then why?
wooyoung: it means that i don't like it when people mock what i do
wooyoung: and when people mock me, i become angry
wooyoung: and angry and horny don't go well together
wooyoung: unless you want to put it to test?
wooyoung angry fucking you? you grimace. would it be the kind of sex he did in his last live with that rosie girl? if yes, you are feeling very turned off right now. he must've sensed the lack of replying on your side, and is quick to respond again.
wooyoung: can't help it, sorry
wooyoung: just come over and we can hang?
your phone pings, sending you a message with a different name on top.
choi san: bet his new live will bring him a fortune. who else has taken someone's virginity live on a porn site?
what the fuck are you on about? there's no live.
choi san: that's what you think
choi san: or that's what he'll make you think
choi san: unless he convinces you to willingly do it
he wouldn't. would he? wooyoung who has asked you before each contact whether you're sure, or whether you're feeling nervous. wooyoung who already had his hands on your tits, and still wanted to ask if you're sure. he wouldn't secretly film you. he wouldn't.
what do you consider a hang? and why?
wooyoung: just hang? watch that movie and talk?
wooyoung: because
wooyoung: idk
wooyoung: you're so stiff and awkward yet i wanna know more about you and see you
wooyoung: i guess i want to be the one to unstiff you?
wooyoung: NOT LIKE THAT
wooyoung: i dropped my cool guy vibe just like that
wooyoung: look at me texting you multiple times in a row
wooyoung: i've never ever done that in my life for anyone
wooyoung: so...?
so san was right. you did unintentionally make him chase you. played hard to catch without even knowing it. you have a whole porn star folding for you, and offering you all you ever wanted. or at least you think you wanted.
ping!
yunho: hey just wanted to ask if everything is alright?
yunho: sorry if i somehow hurt you
yunho: you seem a little distant, and i know it might be because of the kiyomi situation, but i promise i care about you so much
yunho: if you want you can come over and we can make that pasta together?
yunho: i also want to talk to you
yunho: properly
it's now or never.
you gonna pick me up or?
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you sit in the familiar car, the smell of it relaxing you. he knows how to make scents work and not make them literally bite your nose. you take a good look at him. he wears a simple short sleeved black t-shirt, along with grey ripped jeans and black boots. his hair is a little messy, but it only adds up to his look. every time you see him, you forget just how good he looks.
"angel?"
"wooyoung?"
he laughs, eyes not moving off the road.
"are you okay?"
"yes." you simply reply, shifting your attention to the surrounding houses.
you don't speak the rest of the way, just enjoying his humming and wheel tapping. it isn't uncomfortable silence. at least not for you. you can also hear faint vibrations coming from your phone in your bag, and you know exactly who they belong to.
"whoever that is, they sure are persistent." wooyoung comments.
"sorry. i'll shut it off."
"oh, no. please. i was just noticing."
you finally take the phone out, screen bombarded with his notifications. just when you wanted to clear the notification tab, he calls, and you click the green phone.
"shit."
"hello?"
wooyoung glances at your phone, eyebrows furrowed. he keeps driving, not saying a word.
"hey, yunho, now is not a good time-"
"it never is lately anyway. listen, i will just say what i wanted to like this."
"yunho, no-"
"i love you. i don't even think about the words like or crush anymore, i know, i'm sure, that i love you. and i know you're slipping away from me, and i know there's no way to stop it."
you stare at wooyoung, who is carefully listening to the voice coming from your device. you are shaking, thoughts running wild. you are becoming more aware of your feelings towards yunho, and aware about the situation you are putting yourself in. you are on your way to shatter everything you've ever had with him, and everything you could've had with him. for just a taste of what seemed to only exist in your mind.
"i won't blame you if you go with him. i'm just afraid of you getting hurt, maybe worse than that night. and this time i might not be around to fix it. i do not have the energy anymore. i'm sorry."
san was right about this too, and you hate him for it. all this time you subconsciously kept yunho as a backup. you've convinced yourself that he isn't your type, and you did so good at it. until now.
"i'm not saying you should respond to any of my feelings, but it would've been nice if you came to me and said something along the lines of "sorry yunho, i don't think we will ever be what you want us to be" instead of luring me in and pushing me around. calling me when you need it, then ignore me when you get what you want. i hate that i love you, and i hate that i have to humiliate myself like this every damn time. but i promised myself this would be my last. unless you really wish to discuss all of this properly, and whether or not you want our friendship to continue despite all this. tonight is your last chance. i am speaking to you as a friend now. i want to know where i stand."
you are speechless. he has touched the darkest spot in your heart. that dusty corner reserved for love. the kind of love san accused you of not knowing. how are you supposed to respond when there is a whole man next to you, a man who has also asked you to hang and talk tonight?
"i'll wait until midnight. if you don't show up, that will also help me know where i stand. but then, know that you might not hear from me anymore."
the phone call ends just in time when wooyoung pulls up in his parking spot. he silently exits, opening the door for you. still overwhelmed by the one sided conversation that just happened, you remain seated.
"if you're going to be sulky like that, i will just drive you to him." wooyoung offers, annoyance clear in his tone.
you feel a little irritated for his lack of empathy. but who would empathize with such an awful person like yourself? wooyoung sighs, then crouches in front of the open door on your side.
"you can't sit on two stools at a time, angel. i understand that emotions are hard, and love is complicated. right now, i am offering you something simple, and something harmless. i am not looking for love, i think. i just want to help you discover, and i want to discover you."
not looking for love, that you know. but it feels different hearing it out loud. the i think part right after it went right over your head, only adding to the you really are dense agenda.
"yunho is offering you commitment. real love. something i'm not quite capable of giving you, or anyone. i think with my dick, and he thinks with his heart. that creates a problem for you, because you want to be loved, but you also want a dick to make you stop thinking."
you aren't sure if he is dirty talking, or if this is just the way he speaks about these things. you finally look at him. his hand reaches for yours, gently guiding you out of the car.
"you can sit down and think inside."
but there was not much thinking. you were quick to lay on top of wooyoung, entirely relaxed in his arms as his nails grazed the skin of your thighs. non sexually. just innocent pleasure and the movie playing in the back. but you can't relax all the way, because you know where tonight will lead. you squirming under wooyoung's touch, the only emotions present being lust and yeaerning. you liked yunho. you really did. but the way wooyoung handles you is not like any other. you need to have it, at least one more time.
"you're not watching the movie."
"i know."
"then what are you doing?"
"thinking."
wooyoung sighs. his hands halt on your waist, then help you sit up on his lower stomach as he stays laying down.
"be honest with me. what exactly do you want? i won't judge you."
"i don't know." you lie.
"let me try a different approach. what do you want with me? be completely raw, so we can both know where we stand."
and you do just that. tell him all about your desires, about the feeling of lust which you've mistaken as a crush towards him, about loving how desirable you are feeling when it comes to him, and everything that comes to your mind. he listens, slowly nodding his head as you speak.
"i guess i want to have a little fun with no commitment before the, you know, actual commitment."
"i understand. now, what do you want with yunho?"
"everything."
you do want everything with him. from the kisses he is dying to offer you to whatever kinkery he has hidden behind those shiny eyes. yunho is a man every girl wants, including you, yet he only has heart eyes for you. and you'd be stupid to let that go.
"then go for it."
"see, the thing is- i already got a taste of you. and i want closure. i want to finally get that orgasm you've been delaying for so long."
wooyoung nods, eyebrows a little scrunched. he is focused on putting a stray hair behind your ear, and when that hair refuses to obey him over and over again, he huffs, and finally gives your sentence attention.
"we need to discuss first. what kind of orgasm are we talking?"
"what do you mean?"
"well, now that you've finally come to terms with your feelings towards that yunho dude, taking your v-card is off the table?"
"yeah, i guess." you shrug, as if it was just a hug you were talking about.
"just to warn you, it hurts like hell."
"that i know. thanks."
"he can reach out to me for some tips if he wants. just saying."
"got it."
he smiles, then proceeds.
"filming is off the table?"
"uh-"
"just asking, not forcing. if we are going to do simple oral and, or, fingering, then you know... i'd maybe like some footage. at least for me to enjoy sometimes."
come to think of it, it is risky, and it is something that you wouldn't do ever again when or if you become yunho's partner. this is maybe a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you don't want to waste it.
"i'll give you back by midnight, baby." he winks.
"okay." you agree.
you feel your heart beat faster, and louder. you have just agreed to be filmed, in a stranger's house, touched by that same stranger, and the video will be up for so many people to see. so what? you'll ask him to blur or cut the face out of the frame. simple as that.
"come on then."
the young man stands up, giving you his open hand. little do you know that the gaze you're giving him from below him on that couch is making his pants feel very tight.
you accept his hand, and allow him to lead you to his room. your eyes land on the bed. the very same bed and pillows where he filmed that live, and many other lives after that. wooyoung then gently pushes you towards the bed, hands grazing your waist while his eyes admire your outfit. it looks so easy to take off.
he carefully pushes you on the bed, and you swear you've never felt a mattress so soft. he climbs on the bed, hovering over you and giving you one more head to toe scan.
"so pretty." he whispers.
"thank you." you say, not knowing what else to do.
he laughs, then leans in to give you a kiss sweeter than those cake pops you used to eat throughout your whole high school. he kisses you again, again and again, until you start yearning for more. you reach for his shoulders, hair, neck, anything to make him deepen the kiss and give you one of his passionate ones. he takes his time, playing with your bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth.
"patience." he instructs, then untangles your hands from his hair.
he reaches towards the nightstand. the same nightstand from which he pulled that clear toy out that night you discovered him. instead of something crazy, he pulls a single piece of long fabric. the fabric is shiny and pink, with lace decorating it.
"you trust me?"
"completely."
"that's a good girl." he kisses your forehead before putting the silk over your eyes. "raise your head for me a little bit."
you do as told, enough so he can tie it up behind your head. he adjusts your hair, letting it fall over your shoulders, then traces his finger down your neck and to your collarbones. you almost shiver at his touch. he continues his journey to your shoulders, gently pulling down the sleeves of your dress, then does the same to the other. you feel like everything is ten times more intense, since you can't see anything anymore.
he pulls his hand back, then shuffles on top of you for a while. you hear something hit the floor, and then feel the mattress dip between your legs. wooyoung takes your hand, guiding it towards a  source of warmth. you breathe out when you touch his warm skin, nails yearning to dig into it. he helps you trace his abs, his formed chest, and all the way down to his defined v-line. you feel a few veins leading to a place of heaven, or hell, and you have to bite your lip to keep you from smiling.
this is exactly what you want.
"can i see?" you ask nicely.
"no. just feel." he declines, and you hear him smile as he says that.
"okay." you comply, using the opportunity to touch a little more
he then gets off the bed again, and you hear slight rattling. he must be setting up the camera. it doesn't take long for him to come back, placing an object next to you at a certain position.
"i'm only going to be filming myself and your lower body, alright? something like your point of view? you okay with that?"
"yes."
"you sure?"
"yes." you breathe out, feeling his hands caressing your hips.
"we need a safe word, angel."
"god, i don't know, just touch me already. please." you beg like a pathetic slut.
"i know you're impatient, but i really need you to think of a word."
"i don't know." you're becoming annoyed with him.
"how about..." he hums, then kisses your jawline, "mocha?"
"y-yes, that sounds good." you stutter as he plants kisses along your jawline, going down your neck and stopping at collarbones.
"so when you say mocha, i'm stopping everything i'm doing. got it?"
"yes."
"good. i'm turning it on now."
you hear a click, then a short sound. he waits a little, probably for people to join.
"hi, my favorite people. i would do some talking, but to be honest, i can't wait to dive into today's special."
you don' t have time to process his words, he is shuffling through the drawers again. wooyoung then takes your clothes off, and you help him by raising your hips, pulling your arms out your sleeves, all to make him satisfied. he plants a kiss on your knuckles, thumb grazing over them before he sets your hand back down. his lips hover above your skin, blowing cool air along the line of the lingerie bra you wore.
"i like you more in those pastels." he admits.
the man cups your breasts, slowly massaging them and letting his thumbs graze your tense buds over the thin black lace. you squirm under his touch, feeling the pleasure pool in your lower stomach. you swear you could cum from only nipple touching if he did it long enough. you could try that once.
"she's awfully quiet, isn't she? what should i do to her?" he speaks to the camera.
he then takes a few seconds to read the written suggestions, and then chuckles.
"take off the bra? oh, but i quite like it like this. it makes the situation sexier and more intimate. doesn't look like that raw porn you can find on pornhub, right?"
he is right. you got all dolled up for him, would be a shame if he took everything off so soon. you feel a warm wet muscle trace around your areola, building anticipation. his other hand plays with it too, not once touching the nerve ending that is angrily sticking out and demanding attention. he finally gives in, closing his lips around the tense bud and ever so lightly grazes it with the tip of his tongue.
you gasp, arching your back from the mattress. his hand is quick to find its place on your stomach, pushing  your body back down and caressing your skin along the way.
"atta girl." he praises, seeing just how obedient you are for him.
his teeth graze your nipple, then gently tug at it. you twitch, hands flying towards him in hopes to grab his hair. he is quick to grab your wrists, pinning your hands above your head.
"i'm the one doing the exploring, angel. you lay there for me like the patient pretty doll you are."
you nod, immediately becoming still. his fingers find a path down your stomach, to the line of your panties. he caresses the skin right above your clit, circling it, grazing the inside of your thighs, your folds, all while ignoring the burning place right in the middle of all that. your hips almost buck into his hand, but you remember to be good. he pushes the panties aside, revealing you to himself and the camera.
"oh, so pretty." he exhales.
you hear him put his fingers in his mouth, coating them in saliva, then dip between your folds. you whine when he touches the tip of your clit, spinning it in circles and making you gasp for air. your hands are still pinned above your head, and his knee is fast to hold your legs open by pressing the inside of your thigh into the mattress. he then dips his fingers below, first one, then two. the feeling of strange and a little uncomfortable is back, but when he starts pumping in and out at a slow pace, occasionally curling his fingers up, you are a moaning mess. you can hear just how wet you are for him, and each time he buries his fingers deep inside of you, you have to fight the urge to moan louder.
"wish you could see just how well you're taking me."
you remember how absolutely hot it looked that night, seeing his fingers disappear inside of you.
"good, good girl. one more? think you can handle?"
there is two already, but you still nod. he adds another finger, deliciously stretching you out and giving you trouble breathing. it seems like hours have passed, and wooyoung is still content with fingering you at a pace that is too slow even for you. he is enjoying the sounds and view you are offering him, and is too mesmerized by the way he is so smoothly disappearing inside of you, all while you breathe heavily and buck your hips into his hand.
you feel your wrists become free. sore, but free. wooyoung then grabs something from the nightstand, and shuffles with it for a few moments. you hear light buzzing, and your heart jumps a little. fuck, he is doing everything just right. as if he entered your mind and stole all your wishes.
he brings it to your nipple, circling it just like his tongue is circling your clit. you are overwhelmed, struggling to keep still like he instructed.
"wooyoung-" you whine.
"i know, baby. feels so good, doesn't it?" he coos, sending shivers up your spine.
"yeah," you whine again, not quite capable of doing anything else.
"yeah," he hums. "you're doing a very good job, angel. hold on tight for me. don't let go just yet."
he is taking his sweet time, acting like this is only the beginning of a very long movie. you feel like cumming, and you don't want to do that just yet. you're having too much fun, and the buildup is much more pleasurable than the orgasm itself. at least you think so. his voice is soothing, low and raspy, and that alone is enough to make you feel like you came ten times already.
his tongue dives between your folds again, adding the third source of pleasure and shooting arrows to your core. you tremble under his passionate licks, thighs struggling to stay open. he hums into your clit, vibrations matching the ones on your nipple. he spins the gadget around your buds, slowly, then teases the areola again. you hear yourself become louder and louder, and he doesn't seem to mind. it's killing you that you can't see him. he must surely look gorgeous between your legs, working his tongue on you like it's his last feast.
his plush lips close around the tip of your clit, gently tugging it, tongue spinning it in slow circles just how you like it. but today, it all seems a little too slow. you are eager to see just how he will make you cum. maybe you can take two?
"how much longer?" you ask, feeling a bit stupid.
"oh, so much longer. i'm not letting go of you just yet."
the time is slow, and pleasure still bearable. you don't know how much longer you can hold. luckily, he pulls away from you, just in time. you feel his wet digits trail your bottom lip, as if asking permission to enter. you open your mouth, taking in the arousal that exists just for him. you taste yourself on his fingers, working your tongue around them so that you don't just lay completely useless. he hums, watching you swirl around them, and letting them go with a little suck at the end.
"i'm going to make you feel so good, princess. give you the best treatment you'll ever get."
you feel all fluttery and fidgety from his words. you could listen to him forever.
"come here."
you feel him sit behind you, back resting against the wall, and his hands pull you into his lap. your bare back rests against his built chest, and you can't help but hum at the sensation. he chuckles, loving every bit of reaction you have to give him.
"face reveal?" he reads a comment, and you become tense in his hands. "no."
the firm no has you grabbing his thighs, legs automatically spreading for him to continue abusing your clit and hole. his fingers move your hair out of the way of your chest, and gently tuck it behind your ears.
"so pretty." he coos again, leaving a kiss on top of your head.
you melt into his arms at his never ending praises, and you can't get enough. you wish to be called pretty all day long. you wish to be kissed like that for the rest of your life. you love how desired he makes you feel.
"are you real?" you mumble, lost in the soft vibrations that are circling your entrance.
he laughs, then kisses your shoulder. "very much, sweetheart."
"it feels too good. you feel too good."
"i know, baby. i know."
the gadget on your cunt is small, and still at a low speed. he uses his other hand to spread your folds, enough to start inserting the small vibrator inside. you yelp a little, the stretch wider than his fingers.
"easy," he whispers, "just like that..."
he fully inserts it, and you feel so full and in pain.
"i'm not going all the way, don't be afraid."
he pumps the toy in and out of you, enough to get you used to the new stretch. his other hand toys with your clit and tricks your brain into focusing on the pleasure rather than pain.
"wooyoung?"
"yes, love?"
"i thought you said you'd destroy me."
his movements stop. you bite your lip, trying to keep the smirk spreading on your lips. a gasp leaves your lips as his hand grabs your jaw, pulling your head back so that he can look at your face. he gets close, so close that your lips almost touch.
"is that what you want?"
his hot breath is so inviting, but when you reach to kiss him, he moves away, and grabs your jaw firmer.
"you want your tight little cunt to be destroyed? you want me to throw you around and use you like that toy you watched me fuck? you want me to fuck the feeling for the other guy out of you? so that you don't see nobody else but me? so that your pussy only fits on my cock? so that your body only responds to me?"
you are breathless as he spills all his intentions out, with each sentence sending goosebumps all over your body.
"that what you want? for me to fuck you dumb?"
"yes." you simply say.
you expected him to push you down on the bed. you expected him to pull your hair. you expected him to degrade you, spank you, and whatnot. but what you did not expect was the gentle tug of the blindfold, and a caress of your cheek as his grip on your jaw softened. you open your eyes, and meet his dark ones.
"are you sure?" he asks quietly.
"what?" you act dumb.
"you want me to...?"
"i want you to fuck me." you finally say it.
it seems like he has stopped breathing for a moment. he takes a few seconds to examine your face, looking for any signs of hesitation. when he sees none, he places the silk on your hands, tying them up and placing them in your lap.
"i meant what i said," he speaks to you and only you now, back turned towards the camera. "i am going to take a good care of you. remember your safety word?"
"mocha."
"good girl." he places a kiss on your forehead, then pushes you to lay down.
you watch him unbutton his pants, finally seeing more of that v-line you are suddenly very obsessed with. he throws them on the floor, along with the boxers, letting his cock free from the grip of the fabric. your jaw drops at the size. not enormous, but still too big for your virgin self. this is going to hurt like hell.
"can i suck you off?" you ask, subconsciously doing the big eyes thing he so much loves.
"are you sure? i wanted this to be about you."
"i'm sure." you say, eager to get a taste of him. "just, uh... guide me?"
"with pleasure."
he lays on the bed, elbow holding his upper body up as his other hand brings your face close to his cock. you didn't think it would look this clean and... pretty. you stick your tongue out, finally getting a taste of him. he hums, throwing his head back. you lick up from the base to the tip, immediately taking him in your mouth. he gasps, not expecting it so soon. he fills your mouth deliciously, resting against your tongue as his precum spills down your throat. he feels smooth, and very hot.
"god, so good," he groans, hand reaching for your hair to guide you up and down.
you bob your head up and down, too impatient to go slow like he did. you want to hear him more, knowing that you are the reason for those sounds and words.
"even your mouth is so tight, i might cum if you continue." he pulls your head away.
"you're so mean," you whine.
"i know," he coos for the third time today, knowing just what it does to you. "let me take care of you."
you try to lay down, but he holds you in place. you are confused. does he want to jump to some insane positions right away?
"missionary hurts. we will try something else. that good?"
you nod, and he sits against the wall again. he pulls you towards him, finally kissing you again. he showers you with soft kisses, and even though he promised whatnot, you are still experiencing a very soft and gentle version of him. you like it, but the thought of all the things he has listed for you is making your blood boil with excitement.
his hands cup your ass, raising your body and slowly bringing it towards his cock. you look down, noticing that a condom is already sitting on it. when did he manage to do that?
"slow," he whispers, guiding your hips so that you slowly start to sit on him, "just like that. good job."
you yelp at the uncomfortable stretch, and knowing that the pain is yet to come, you put your still tied hands around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder. inch by inch, he disappears inside of you, leaving no space empty. you feel so full and uncomfortable, your teeth sink into his shoulder to stop the loud moans of pain.
"hold onto me, love. it'll be better."
you forget the camera. you forget yunho. you forget san. you forget your feelings towards the other man. you will enjoy this, even if it was your last.
"can i move?"
"yes."
he keeps you close to him, lifting your hips slowly up and down. you hear the comment section flooding, and glance over at the laptop on the nightstand. each money donation makes a sound, and right now, there is tons of them. you enjoy all the praises written in the comments, talking about how well you are taking him, how obedient you are, and how innocent you look. you like it all a little too much.
wooyoung speeds up the pace, hips finally colliding with yours with a bigger force. you don't let go of his shoulder just yet, still focusing on the pleasure and trying to ignore the pain. he is a groaning mess, and little did you know that he has to use every ounce of self control in him to not just slam you on the bed and fuck you open for him. he grips your hips, sure to leave bruises afterwards, and keeps the same pace for a while.
"feeling okay?"
"yeah," you stutter between little gasps and moans.
"can i speed up?"
"yes, please."
the man finally lets himself loose, picking up your body by your waist and moving his own hips instead in a fast pace. your jaw drops, and your eyes roll back from the newfound point of pleasure. you are completely lost in his touch, scent and voice. he is grunting with each push, reaching deep inside of you and touching a particularly sensitive spot you didn't know you had.
"fuck, you're so wet." he hisses. “look how well you take me.”
having enough of the position, he finally throws you against the mattress, yet his gaze still has a hint of worry for you. when you smile, it's his sign to dive into your gardens again. the new position feels odd, and good in a new way. he reaches for a pillow, putting it under your hips for easier access, and finally fulfills his promise.
his hips dive into yours, colliding with force and awaking the orgasm inside of you. the pace isn't fast, it is just right. you have enough time to savour every delicious pump he delivers you.
"i want to cum so bad, please." you beg, feeling a bit overstimulated.
"just a little longer, hm?"
he speeds up the pace, grabbing your waist and practically slamming you against his cock, while his hips stay resting. you feel like that toy, being used like this. you can't help but develop a secret size kink, seeing how easily he is handling you and throwing your body around how he likes it. your eyes catch the gadget near him on the bed, and you grab it. his eyes are focused on the place you're connecting, admiring the view with scrunched eyebrows. he is so into it, that he doesn't even see you put the vibrating gadget on your clit. it is the sudden flood of comments again that makes him look away.
"chasing that orgasm like a thirsty little cumslut?"
you nod eagerly, focusing on the pool of pleasure threatening to spill over. a volcano waiting to erupt. a bottle of champagne waiting to pop.
"wooyoung-"
"go on, baby. i've tortured you enough."
you moan, grabbing his hand for support as you slowly reach the peak.
"cum on my cock like it's your last." he grunts.
it takes you over the edge. a river spilling over the highest cliffs, hitting hard against the pond and creating waves all the way to the shore. it is ripping through your body, and you swear you feel in in the ends of your hair and the tips of your toes. your back arches from the mattress, shaking as shock waves continue to exhaust your body. you are a moaning and whining mess, grabbing anything you can, from his arms and hair, to the mattress and pillows above your head.
"fuck, angel, i'm close too." he warns.
"use me," you whine, still in a hazy state. "use me like that fuck toy."
hearing you speak that way sends him over the edge too, fingers digging into the skin of your waist, and eyes rolling back as he moans and groans. his hips become sloppy, and you feel something warm spill inside of you. it takes a few more pumps for him to come down from his high, and when he is done, he lets himself fall on top of you.
he doesn't speak. doesn't move. just breathes and holds you in his embrace. you lay there for a while, trying to calm your breathing and come back to your senses. with a single tap on the keyboard, he shuts the live off, not even looking at it. he does it that often, he doesn't need to look.
his head finds peace in the space between your shoulder and neck, and his arms caress the place that is full of red marks from his hands. his breathing slows, and when you look down, you realize he has dozed off. you do too, holding him against your chest and replaying everything that just happened.
when you wake up, you see that the sky has gotten darker. you reach for the phone, checking the time so that you won't be late to your arrangement with yunho. but then, you see a notification just underneath the digits showing a young night.
a single message, with an attached screenshot of a very familiar room and familiar nude people.
yunho: i think i'm ready to let go. you've made it so much easier. goodbye.
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
@minimoniac @miriamxsworld @kodzukein @woomyteez @mulletdaddyjayjo @bae4choi @haatohwa @marvelahsobx @jxhnnyfav
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celestialprincesse · 10 months ago
Text
More Simon X Single mom!Reader💕🌙
Based on this drabble😚
wc: 1.1k
You're so, painfully reluctant to ask Simon for help. He offers, frequently, to help you get bedded in to your small flat, which only now, finally free from the clutches of your desperation, do you understand why it was so cheap. The first time he comes over for dinner he notes the way your kitchen faucet takes ages to put out hot water, and honestly, it took a fair bit of blindly tapping (smacking) random pipes to get any water at all. He seems to take issue with not only the lack of amenities that could help you get settled, but also the fact that the few basics that you do have access to don't work. You're a single mom, with a three year old daughter, and his sense of justice has always been at war with his longing search for peace and isolation.
Simon doesn't have much to do when he's not deployed, Price putting him on some kind of mandatory break after the last mission went south, as did his mental health. Because of said lack of hobbies, work and education, Simon finds himself doing literally whatever he can think of to occupy his mind, to forget about what happened in October - if that means helping you string a wreath on the front of your apartment door and lugging a christmas tree up the stairs for you, that's what he'll do. You'll be the first to admit that you're cash poor - buying this house ate up the majority of your savings, and the rest you're currently blowing through supporting your daughter whilst also trying to get a job, very contradictory to the fact that you're also trying to lay low.
The man that lives next door to you is no fool, not as blind and imperceptive as you wish he'd be. You see the way his eyes occaionally shoot to the fading tan line on your left ring finger and the small, raised scar on your bicep. Occasionally, he himself wishes that he wouldn't see the bags under your eyes or the way you clutch onto your daughter like she'll be ripped away from you - maybe then he wouldn't feel such a sense of duty to you. Maybe he wouldn't lie awake at night thinking of the fact that he's spent his life plagued by gunfire to protect innocent women and children, and now faced with the people he vowed to lay down his life for, all he can do is offer to fix your blocked hot water pipe.
So, when you stand on his doorstep, sniffling down fat tears threatening to spill, apologising profusley when you look up to see his confused expression, he can't help but to engulf you, and your wailing daughter at your hip, into what he can only hope is a comforting embrace. "Y' a'right? Whats goin' on?" He murmurs, a hint of panic in his voice. Simon knows the feeling of your past coming back to haunt you all too well.
"I'm sorry I just - the oven is broken, and I need to make her dinner and bath her and put her down to bed -" Is all you can manage before you're hiccuping into the hand not supporting your equally as distraught baby girl.
For a second he just stops, his brain short circuits as he struggles to comprehend the fact that you're coming to him for help. He can't understand the way you lay your soul bare before him, not when he's so distant, so intimidating, and you're oh so soft, lovely as a morning songbird and as warm as sun soaked sand.
"Would you mind looking at it?" Even you recognise how pathetic you sound, standing here practically grovelling at your neighbours door, but apparently it works when he's guiding you back to the front door you stupidly left open in your panic, pulling out a kitchen chair and easing you down as you sit between utter misery and the panic which filled your lungs like a puncture in a life raft when one little part of your routine you'd become so reliant on fell out of place.
"Gas's out." He tells you softly, like any more bad news might make you shatter completely, and the thought of delivering that blow makes him feel physically sick. "Right - Right, no gas." You murmur, brain whirring at a million miles a second in order to work out what to do next.
"You could use my oven? I'll call the gas company in the morning and have them install a new bottle."
His words make you stop, processing his offer, his generosity, the generosity of a man who's never once been cruel or rough or mean to you, and you give a little grateful nod, cooing to your daughter about how you're going on an adventure to Simon's place. The way he scoops her up so that you can stuff a bag with all of the things you need to make dinner, bouncing her on his hip to stop her wailing makes your insides warm in an unfamiliar way, one that you promptly shake off as you follow him across the threshold of his undecorated apartment, trying not to stare at your surroundings as you're guided to a kitchen that you're sure is far more functional than your own.
The way Simon doesn't have any cartoon channels on his TV, so he grabs his laptop instead, plopping your daughter down on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders and some kind of kids show playing on the screen makes you ache, and you can't imagine how a man with no kids of his own could be so good with yours. There's a softness to him despite his physical body being comprised of muscle and sinew and scars, his soul is gentle. He's gentle with you, and he's gentle with your daughter, and that's all that you can ask for.
You make enough dinner for the three of you, mostly to thank Simon for his hospitality, but also because you're starving and the meat needs eating. When you ask where the cutlery is, he gives a little chuckle, grabbing out two sets for you and him, as well as your daughter's little blue Peter Rabbit spoon and tray. He helps you dish up dinner, and when you go to sit at the table, he steers you into the lounge.
"You're not worried about food on the couch?" You squeak in utter confusion, to which he gives a laugh and plops down on one end, placing your daughters tray before her where she sits in the middle of the two of you, happily scarfing down her dinner and watching whatever Simon could find on such short notice.
When you inevitably fall asleep on his couch, your daughter doing the same, Simon sets a blanket over the two of you before going into the kitchen to call the gas company, putting down his card details to pay for the new bottle. He's happy to cough up fifty quid that he's sure you don't have if it means not seeing his girls cry again.
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caturnmoon · 3 months ago
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Astrology Observations #6️⃣
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♍️ Happy Virgo Season!! ♍️
🌱Virgo rising is a super underrated beauty placement in my opinion. Virgo is ruled by the maiden archetype, and physical hallmarks attributed to Virgo are that soft, doe eyed, effortless beauty for women and boyish good looks for men. They take pride in their wellness routines unless the chart indicates otherwise, and cleanliness and grooming take priority too. They always have this effortlessly put together beauty about them. Queens of the “clean girl” aesthetic. A lot of celebrities and models have heavy Virgo influence. Ex: Brooke Shields, Blake Lively, Beyonce
🌱Mercury Pluto aspects and always feeling like their mind is a scary place to be. They can struggle with mental health in general, but can also have AMAZING laser lock focus too. The expression, “You can do anything you set your mind to.” definitely comes to mind at its most positively expressed.
🌱Having the asteroid Fama in Virgo could indicate being famous/well-known for anything that you’re really good at. Virgo’s are known for their attention to detail and work ethics, so depending on the house it’s placed in, this area could be a natural talent for you and something you’re “famous” for.
🌱Gemini over the 6th house could indicate multiple jobs and not holding one job down for too long due to boredom. You need constant mental stimulation, so if your work doesn’t provide this, then you’ll be looking for the next best thing elsewhere. Creating a podcast could really appeal to you as well since Gemini rules oral communication. You’re most likely known as phenomenal multi-tasker in your everyday life and routines!
🌱Part of fortune in the 6th house could bless you with wonderful health and longevity. You probably don’t get sick that often and heal quickly too.
🌱Scorpio moons no matter how extroverted they may be if their chart supports this, value privacy over everything. They feel most secure when their privacy is respected and made top priority. If it’s in the 8th, 4th or 12th houses then this is even more emphasized. Needs solitude to decompress.
🌱Look to what phase the moon was in when you were born as well for added elements to your chart! I interpret the phase in correlation to my moon sign and the nature of it. it makes a lot of sense. I’m an Aries moon born during a waxing gibbous moon; the cusp before the full moon. Aries is fiery, assertive, and headstrong ready to charge forward. Waxing gibbous moons symbolize consolidating gains, moving forward and preparing for forward momentum before the full moon.
🌱Have a lot of 7th house activity? Your focus is developing (and learning what it takes to maintain) relationships in this lifetime. Give and take, compromise, and boundaries will be repeated themes and lessons for you to learn this time around.
🌱Having the 22nd degree (the Capricorn “kill or be killed” degree) can indicate immense potential for success and notoriety. In my opinion, this can be a very underrated fame degree.
🌱Having the rectangle pattern in your natal chart can indicate a strong pull towards making a difference in the world and being given all of the tools in order to make that happen while you’re here. This pattern is rare, and is made up of two oppositions connected with two trines and two sextiles. These aspects support and complement each other providing stability necessary to fulfill your life purpose and calling with relative ease.
🌱Pisces Mercury could have such profound imaginations and thrive at communicating through creativity of any kind. Keeping a dream journal may be beneficial for you too!
Until next time!!🖖🏼👽
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laismoura-art · 6 months ago
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Ok so...
Twice now i’ve seen people approach @elsa-fogen about a take that is “Alastor is in hell because of Voodoo” (the latest one basically saying he is in hell solemnly because of Voodoo”) and I can’t help but feel there’s reeks of religious intolerance from his take (even if it’s not intentional) cause let’s not forget, Voodoo is a religion (main one in places such as Haiti and Gana), and it’s often stigmatised and viewed through the wrong light. So you all can understand how a take like this could rub someone the wrong way and be deemed as religious intolerance.
But as I know this fandom is PAINFULLY stubborn and probably will want to keep exploring this take even if it makes some people uncomfortable (take the people who refuse to acknowledge Alastor as aro and the people who refuse to stop calling Alastor a wendigo for instance) I would like to offer an alternative take: 
See, I’m not from Voodoo and it’s not that big of a religion here in Brazil, however, we do have two other religions here that are similar/derivatives from Voodoo (Candomblé and Umbanda) and face similar prejudices, so I’m making this based mostly on these two but know that it also applies to Voodoo. 
In Umbanda, we have a higher god, the Orixás (entities that provide guidance and protection) and we have spirits, these spirits divide in different groups and offer advices and guidance to all types of people, there are spirits that look after women, children, grieving parents and even the lost (such as drug addicts).
But as we have good spirits, we also have bad ones. they are popularly known as “espiritos de porco” (pig spirits) who are usually mischievous and even ill intended spirits that might loom over you if they feel a bad energy coming from you or if you are spiritually unprotected and they will start to cause you misfortune and even make you feel weak and sick.
Some ill-intended people use these bad spirits against people they want to harm, the bad spirits may guide them in performing a ritual or maybe the spirit will loom on this targeted person. 
It’s (partly) due to people like this that these religions have such bad reputation, but these people basically perform their religion in a corrupted way! Umbanda is a religion that connects you with nature and guides you spiritually, it’s deeply connected with healing practises (mentally, physically and spiritually), but as I said, like EVERY other religion, it can be corrupted and used to harm.
I think the best use of “corrupt vs proper use of religion” I’ve seen comes from Disney's The Princess and the Frog. People usually remember Dr Facilier better, who used Voodoo against his enemies and to harvest power (much like a certain deer man we all know and love) but we also had Mama Odie (which is a real figure in voodoo, mind you. Also present in Umbanda, a Mama Odie is sort of a priestess of the religion) notice how she is a much more accurate representation of the religion, she lives in contact with nature, she performs her rituals and prayers in the wide while dancing with a very positive energy around, and she wears white (which is the most recommended colour to wear during rituals, as it’s a neutral colour and pleases all Orixás). 
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So as you can see, there’s good voodoo practicants and bad ones, and in the end it’s all about how you use your religion, if you use it as you were taught, with pure intentions, seeking guidance and protection of good spirits and Orixás, or in a corrupt way, surrounding yourself with bad spirits and helping them spread their bad energy. 
So what I am hoping with all this is is that people put a stop to “Alastor is evil because he uses Voodoo” and adopt the “Alastor is evil because he does malpractice of Voodoo” which is a much more accurate to reality and respectful take. 
I’d even like to offer a headcanon of my own: 
That Alastor's mom was from Voodoo (maybe even was a Mama Odie herself) and taught Alastor all she knew and he corrupted her teachings and started using them for evil (perhaps even to aid him in his killing) and THAT, that corruption, was what sent him to hell, and true redemption for him would not to give up his powers/forsake his religion but actually to go back to his roots and use his powers for good (perhaps in a way that he ends up healing/saving someone (hopefully Charlie or Rosie)👀
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edges-of-night · 3 months ago
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Hii! <3
I wanted to request imagines for reader taking care of the lotr characters (preferably all, but if that’s too much then at least the women and maybe Aragorn and Faramir too) when they’re sick/injured for whatever reason
(I love your imagines so much, the way you characterize them all is so perfectly amazing💜)
Thank you for your kind words! I did all of my usual characters because I love hurt/comfort and sick!fic scenarios that much haha! I hope you will enjoy your post ♡
Have a great weekend everybody!
CW: injuries and illnesses, mention of blood
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・゚✧ Aragorn.
While Aragorn’s heroic sacrifice didn’t cost him his life, it took a heavy toll on him. Lucky for him, you’ve spoken often enough about medicinal herbs and healing practices – you are able to take great care of him, bedded on his white linens. Even when he is still too weak to speak, Aragorn will hold your gentle hand.
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・゚✧ Arwen.
You return so often to Arwen’s bedside that you wonder if it would be easier to just stay – but you know that privacy and rest are just as important as her wish to hold your hand. Whenever you’re with her, you tend to her wounds or read her passages from her favourite book to make her smile, which Arwen appreciates immensely. As she rests, she plans on properly kissing you as soon as she’s healthy.
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・゚✧ Boromir.
Boromir hates that a common cold has him chained to the bed for over a week now. But he’d lie if he said he didn’t enjoy you taking care of him – even though you do tease him and his constantly red nose from time to time. It’s all in good fun though, and he cannot wait to hold and kiss you again!
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・゚✧ Elrond.
When Lord Elrond returned to Rivendell injured, your heart skipped a beat – he is the most skilled Elvish healer around – who else could treat the gaping, magical wound in his side? The honour is bestowed on you, and you master it despite your nervous mind. Nothing is greater encouragement than finally seeing Elrond’s summer eyes greet you again ♡
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・゚✧ Éomer.
The Rohirrim have all kinds of names for the strange fever that has befallen their dear Éomer – but no methods of healing. They consider it an impossible challenge for you to tame his feverish, sweaty body and nonsense mumblings. But, somehow, the horse lord calms whenever you reach his bedside, sighing when you change the wet cloths on his forehead and rest your hand on his chest.
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・゚✧ Éowyn.
Initially, Éowyn thinks nothing of the cut she got during sword lessons. But days of ignoring the wound on her hand could put her in grave danger, you know that – and thus offer to take a look and do what you can. At first, Éowyn protests, but she falls silent as soon as you turn her hand in yours, unaware of how soft her expression grows… She admires your medical knowledge, too! “Is there at all something you cannot do, you marvellous creature?”
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・゚✧ Faramir.
It takes days for Faramir to wake up. Many others believe him doomed and have given up on sitting by his side, trying new herbs and waters, only to see his crystal blue eyes open once more. But you have the matter-of-factly patience of a boat pushing its way through a deadly ocean. And indeed, on a moonlit night, Faramir’s gentle gaze awaits when you return to his side, whispering, “Thank you for believing in me, my love.”
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・゚✧ Frodo.
Sometimes you wonder if you are the only person to have consideration for both the physical and the mental wounds Frodo has endured. You always make sure he’s fine and support him when thoughts of the big scar on his chest sends him to dark places inside his mind. You both know that those wounds take much more time to heal than the cut itself, and Frodo is more than glad to have you by his side. To soothe him, you caress the scar.
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・゚✧ Galadriel.
Ever since a mysterious malady has befallen Lady Galadriel, Lothlórien is in turmoil. No one would even let you near her – until she ordered her guards away, to allow you to treat her with your medical and arcane knowledge. In fact, you become the only one she wishes to see in her elegant rooms at all. Despite her current weakness, her ethereal beauty and soft smiles make it hard for you to concentrate…
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・゚✧ Gandalf.
Out of breath, you hurry to Gandalf’s beside with that one legendary flower needed to cure him. He insists you be the one to prepare the potion, too. Day and night, you try to perfect his medicine, always worried his state might get worse. When Gandalf finally drinks your potion, the wound on his chest closes magically. But it’s nothing to Gandalf, who has trusted you entirely: “I never doubted you for a moment, my dear.”
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・゚✧ Gimli.
After Gimli’s accident in the mine, you were right by his side to ensure his head injury wouldn’t get much worse. His headache is hurting badly though, and your proud Dwarf is but a shadow of himself. He knows rest would be best for him, but it’s hard for him to stay away from work and banquets alike. Still, he appreciates that you pamper him with his favourite baked goods and healing kisses on his head ♡
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・゚✧ Haldir.
Haldir is not an easy patient, but that doesn’t stop you from treating his catastrophic shoulder, which he has ignored for days on his way through the woods of Lórien. Spread onto linen sheets beneath you, he grunts and cringes – as much as his half-dead stone face can, that is – under both your touch and your harsh words. But deep down, he knows you were simply worried – and honestly, he doesn’t quite know how to deal with that!
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・゚✧ Legolas.
It seemed inevitable that Legolas would someday break a leg because of his acrobatic archery skills, and yet you are surprised. Elves heal quickly, but Legolas suffers greatly under his involuntary immobility. You help him by recounting his favourite quest stories and eventually by supporting his first tentative steps outside, which he thanks you for with the stormiest embraces ♡
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・゚✧ Merry.
Merry thinks he can walk of anything – even an injured knee. He doesn’t want you to think of him as weak or unable to take care of himself. But even Merry can only play down a limp for so long. Truth be told, he is actually relieved that he no longer has to hide the pain, and that you spreading balm on his knee is no ordeal but in fact a very sweet gesture.
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・゚✧ Pippin.
Pippin has been sneezing and stumbling for days, eventually falling into bed with the biggest groan you have ever heard come out of him. He is a “suffering” patient and you know it. But while Pippin greatly enjoys you pampering him with food, tea and blankets, he secretly cannot wait to take care of you in return – no matter if you’re sick or not! “It’s you’re not actually sick, or else I couldn’ave kissed you!”
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・゚✧ Sam.
Gardening involves many dangers, and although Sam has been practising it since childhood, he eventually hurts himself on his gardening knife. The cut is deep and won’t stop bleeding, but you are quick to bandage it and remind him to change the fabric once a day. But Sam has trouble keeping his thoughts straight, when all he can think about is you holding his hand in yours, all close…
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pricegouge · 3 days ago
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Haul
Part Seven MDNI
master list | on ao3
slasher!trucker!141 x reader
series cw: dark fic. major character deaths, rape/noncon
cw: abuse. like a lot. it's bad. idk how to tag it but i don't want to blindside anyone so: they play at drowning reader.
One of them is always home. That's the important part. Which is why it takes you a minute to realize when the ringing of the landline above you goes on too long, each shrill call rousing you slowly, dulled by layers of soundproofing and the fog of your depressive rest. You crumble when you roll over, stare apathetically up at the cobwebs above you and will Price to answer the damn thing already, then cock your head in confusion as another ten rings sound off, undisturbed. When it does die off, it's a slow peter out instead of the abrupt stall mid-ring, like when John plucks it from the receiver with an impatient hand. Whoever was on the other end has hung up, sick of waiting on an answer that wasn't coming. Was John out? Were they all out?
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A potential way out of the warehouse won't do much good if you don't have a way out of your room, but it's hard to test the limits of your enclosure without tipping John off, now that you know for certain he is watching. So instead, you watch back, carefully documenting the movements of each of the boys. Dissecting patterns you'd noticed in the past but not thought much of. They handle you in shifts, when available, and visit you as a team more often than not. As far as you can tell, they do not relock the door after themselves when inflicting themselves upon your room. You're sure this speaks to the impossibility of the lock, and their disinterest in tempting fate, but it also speaks to their confidence in their ability to physically retain you themselves if it comes to it - and they've given you no reason to doubt it yet. Sometimes, when inclined to keep yourself up at night, you think about all the women who've come before you, all the trial and error the boys must have gone through to arrive at this risky procedure, and pinning your hope on ambushing one of them when they come fetch you for breakfast sounds more and more like a good way to have your corpse scavenged by coyotes off some disused highway in Southern Nebraska. And you're not ready for that easy-out, at least not yet.
So you mentally map the warehouse instead; every inch of it that you've seen, at least. The small area with pallet racking where the overhead doors spell deceptively easy freedom, the attached kitchen area and the office space off of it. There's a short hallway past the bathroom lined with closed doors. Your best assumption is that this is where the boys sleep, though you've yet to be trusted in their rooms. They let slip stories sometimes however, past girls they've made warm their beds. They phrase it as a treat, a privilege to look forward to. When you note the absence of locks on the outsides of the doors, you almost agree.
You have options, when you get creative. In addition to the hope for a night behind an unlocked door, there are times when they turn their backs on you a beat too long, or when they forget to parade you around the warehouse with a hand on your back. It would just take one sidestep to start, a quick dart out of their reach before the most high stakes game of hide and seek ever played. There's plenty of places to lose yourself in the warehouse, especially if you can time it to coincide with a day when most of them are out on jobs, or asleep. The problem with that, however, is, aside from John, none of them seem to have very dependable schedules, and you don't want to miss one of very few opportunities to hitch a ride with another trucker if you're biding your time for a chance to escape when fewer people are home, just to let months pass and find there are no such chances. It's not something you can bank on anyway, not when you've no way of keeping track of them. You do try to, though, carefully rehashing your deck of cards so that the suites read off like a flush, ace through king, before re-counting out the days in your passed pile. Now whenever a full suite changes you'll know you've been there another two weeks, and some change. (Is that a fortnight? The itch you get for the internet always strikes you at the weirdest times.) With that in place, you create a system of particular notches to tear into the cards to denote what days which boys are missing. But when the deck runs out and you've still not discerned a pattern, you give up on maintaining your marks.
One of them is always home. That's the important part. Which is why it takes you a minute to realize when the ringing of the landline above you goes on too long, each shrill call rousing you slowly, dulled by layers of soundproofing and the fog of your depressive rest. You crumble when you roll over, stare apathetically up at the cobwebs above you and will Price to answer the damn thing already, then cock your head in confusion as another ten rings sound off, undisturbed. When it does die off, it's a slow peter out instead of the abrupt stall mid-ring, like when John plucks it from the receiver with an impatient hand. Whoever was on the other end has hung up, sick of waiting on an answer that wasn't coming.
Was John out? Were they all out?
When the telephone rings again, you about jump out of your skin. It's annoying, a noise you can see when it rattles around your skull and that familiar blind spot blooms in your bad eye. You rub the tension from your temples delicately, not for the first time wondering if this is just something you'll have to live with now. Agitated, you pull yourself from the bed and grab the stool to bang on the ceiling, as if your upstairs neighbor is being quite inconsiderate. Of course, even if they do hear you, they do nothing to fix the situation because they don't care, or because they like torturing you. Probably both. So you try your own switch, the one that rings a separate phone upstairs - the one they've never yet ignored except when punishing you rather severely. 
Only, they ignore it now - the dual ringing of the receivers thrumming in your eardrums, stirring ill-advised thoughts to the surface.
For the first time since arriving, it's possible no one's watching. 
Fuck, you hadn't accounted for this. In all your imaginative planning, you'd never considered what you could do from your little cell because the obvious answer is, nothing. Even with no one home and no one to stop you from just walking out, there's not a damn thing you can do. The locks don't magically give when you try them; no window manifests above the foundation level for you to pull yourself out through. You kick the door out of frustration, and then bite your lips in fear when you realize that John might see that when he reviews the tapes later and get mad that you've damaged his door for no reason, because even if you somehow manage to force the lock bolts clean through the frame, there's still the trap door at the top of the stairs which you're fairly certain they padlock when you're below. You can just see them now, laughing cruelly as you fail to break the reinforced frame from the rotted sash, their faces glowing in the pale light from whatever outdated CRT screen they probably still -.
Now there's a thought. One that will likely get you punished more severely than you have yet, but perhaps worth it all the same.
If you can find the surveillance equipment and trash it before they get home in time to stop you, you could spend your days doing useful things, like fashioning weapons, or working out so you stand a better chance of outrunning them when you decide to make a break for it. 
If they let you keep functioning limbs.
Your hands shake when you make up your mind, rifling through the room like a madman. There aren't many fixtures in which to hide something, but with the exposed rafters you can see clearly enough that it's not some average dome camera. Tearing everything you can away from the walls, you search first through the mounted furniture, trying to find where any cords might run through the walls. You think you've got it when you flick the desk legs and find them hollow, imagining the feedline tunneling down through your unfinished floor, but a thorough inspection reveals nothing out of the ordinary, and the more you think about it, the less sense it makes that John could have known about your little card trick if the camera was set up close enough that such activity would have likely been out of frame. 
The ringing finally stops when you turn back toward the bed - abrupt, yanked from the receiver. Fear courses through you like icewater, spilling over your skin in a wave of goosebumps. You could stop now, hunker in bed and pretend nothing happened. But if the camera wasn't in the desk, it's likely in the bed frame - the only other mounted piece of furniture - which means it very much did see you, transmitted every second of your frantic search for something, and if they come asking about your odd behavior and you've no explanation, you're going to get the same punishment you would have anyway, without the added benefit of having blinded them.
Over your head, John's raspy laugh booms dully through the ceiling, and your temple aches with it. 
Fuck it, an eye for an eye.
Adrenaline high, you work more efficiently than you would have thought possible even just moments ago. Figuring that if you were a collection of sick monsters with a little pet caged in your basement, you'd want a good view of their bed, you try the head post first, the one in the corner which would allow them to see the room nearly in its entirety. It's a cheap frame. Metal, so they can mount bindings to it, probably, but unreliably assembled, especially when the cap piece is missing a screw, replaced instead by a pin-prick camera. 
Your thumb finds the hollow texture first, the second socket you try. You duck down to be sure, and smile cheekily at the glint of glass you find there, a dark hole in the brass fixture you're upset you've never noticed before. The cap puts up little fight when you yank on it, the decorative piece held in place only by tiny, eighth-inch screws. After the first one dislodges, the thin trim of the post bends enough you can peel the whole thing back like a sardine lid, and you peer inside the hollow of the post to find the bulk of the camera, corded down through the floor much as you'd expected. After the struggle of the cap piece, the camera and its mount look like no trouble at all, except you can't quite reach it, fist too fat to properly fit through the opening and you hiss in frustration, shoving your hand through until the warped metal and the dangling screw bite into your flesh. 
Retreating with a huff, you cast about for some sort of tool to use and freeze when you think you hear the quiet sound of the trap door opening. Stillness follows, so vital you think your heart even stops beating, every cell in your body waiting for the familiar tread of heavy boots on the top step. The moment drags on, long enough you begin to doubt yourself, long enough your lungs heave from disuse when the tread finally lands, and John begins his descent. 
No time. No time. Your knuckles catch first on the metal but it's no matter, not when you keep shoving past it, feel the raw edge dig into the heel of your hand. You gasp in pain, fingers slipping over the edge of the camera when the blood begins to flow down your palm but you grit your teeth through another push, breath laboring through a grimace more than a smile when you finally catch the mount in a firm grip and yank, tossing the little electronic on the floor and stomping on it, barefoot and wincing, just as John finally disengages the last lock, swinging the door open to find you, panting and successful, leaning over the broken remnants like Ali over Liston. 
***
It's a short-lived victory.
Turns out you weren't home alone, the boys all sidling through the side door where Johnny had sprayed you down when John calls for them, dragging you through the warehouse by your hair and weathering the viscous kicks you land on him with insultingly little reaction. You yell in frustration when they filter through the door, try to drown out the sound of John's barked orders with a shriek of your own. It earns you a hard slap and nothing more, your head whipping around so fast you don't see when Simon's arms wrap around your waist, tilt your world on its side as he drags you to the bathroom.
The faucet is already running, the water filling the tub so frigid that it emanates, soothes the ache in your fist even as you make it worse, clawing at the hands which disrobe you unceremoniously. You don't truly start to panic until Johnny squeezes in after as well, frame so wide he jostles everyone to the edges of the room so he can hand John a length of rope, fibrous and coarse, before slipping away again, lingering in the frame with Kyle.
Your eyes dart from the cord to the tub, a halfhearted shiver running through you as you try to dislodge Simon one last time. John notes your sudden docility with a humorless smile, taking in the blood on your hand and foot disinterestedly. "Did that to herself," he tells his assembled audience blandly, even though they didn't ask. He stands too close over Simon's shoulder, stares you down as he asks if they can guess what you did. In the stretch of silence that follows, John prompts you to fill them in with a thick, arched brow.
"Smashed the camera in my room," you whisper, voice drowned out by the thundering of water from the tub. 
"Not so brave now, are you?" John snarls, his hand reaching around Simon viper-quick to bury itself at your scalp, wrenching your head to look at the boys crowded in the doorframe. Kyle has the decency to look mildly concerned, but Johnny's eyes are alight with the same mania you'd seen in him the night he killed Ash. Your voice is stronger than you expect it to be when you answer, a level of spite you didn't know you were capable of. 
"I smashed the camera in my room."
Johnny just laughs. "Now why would ye go an' do a daft thing like tha'?"
Snark sits on your tongue, slips blessedly down the back of your throat when John crowds behind you, tips your head back into his shoulder so he can press his teeth too far into the tender arch of your cheek. "Because she's not so fuckin' smart. Simon." John shoves at your shoulder until you face the other man completely, nose pressed into the hard plane of his sternum. "Hold her still."
Simon's arms are like a steel cage when they wrap around your shoulders, pinning your elbows back behind your waist as far as you can manage. You stamp on his foot on instinct, bloodied sole scraping over the eyelets of his boots. John just kicks your ankle savagely, bodies himself between your legs. The rope smarts when he weaves it between your forearms, a ladder of ties running from your elbows to your hands which do not give an inch when you test them. John yanks the remaining length like a leash after fashioning them too-tightly around your wrists, the knobs of your carpels bulging as blood pools in your fingertips, the trickle of blood from your palm pulsing.
You only know he's crouched behind you when Simon lifts and a callused hand wraps around your bare ankle, the rough saw of jute following after. Panicked, you kick wildly, but John dodges the first and catches your free leg under his armpit on the second. When you wriggle, Simon just crushes you to his chest until your breath wheezes from you and John ties his first knot much too short, your back straining with the arch he's forced.
The way he manhandles your last limb into place despite your struggles would be embarrassing, if you weren't too preoccupied by the growing pit of fear in your belly, or the way it's so hard to breathe when Simon bears all your weight with a compressing grip around your chest. It makes your head throb, vision darkening in your bad eye where it was already struggling after John's slap. So it's nearly a relief when John takes some of your weight, his hands wrapping around your calves with bruising force. Simon shuffles his grip, your body tilting dangerously forward until his big hands wrap around your upper arms. You dangle between them as they turn toward the tub, and then you watch, upside down and one-eyed, as John hikes a leg up over to the far ledge of the bath and they begin to lower you, face first. 
You scream when your hips sink past the frigid surface first, Simon lowering your top half quick enough that water floods your mouth and you arch your back as much as you're able, spitting and gurgling as your head breaches the surface. With the faucet still running, the water rushes around you, splashing over the side as you twist about, trying to get your knees under yourself. A sharp crack sounds behind you, and you turn to find its source just as John canes you over the ass with a broken off broom handle, Johnny tossing the head of it down the hall. 
Crying out, you tip forward again and panic when you crash through the water, more so when your knees jerk back and your nose slams off the basin. You feel your restraints being pulled back - hard, and harder - before suddenly slackening, just a touch. Not enough to let you get your knees back under yourself.
Your back aches with the strain of pulling yourself up, shoulders bearing most of your weight. You gasp when you pull your head above water, engage your biceps enough to keep yourself there while you test your restraints. From the corner of your eye, you see the broom handle overhanging the edge of the tub, laid flat across the top to keep you suspended by your bindings, must be. Sputtering, you try to orient yourself, figure out the depth of your situation by reminding yourself it's only a tub, and not that deep. But the arch it forces your spine to maintain, and the stress of disused muscles after months of atrophy just laying about combine with the frigid cold to conspire against you, leave you too shivery and weak to maintain the hold for long and you relax just a touch, mouth still above level, just to flinch back up when the bubbling of the surface splashes into your nose, makes you cough. 
Over the thundering of the pipes, you hear a familiar growl, too close to your ear. "Don't look so fucking clever now."
"John, please," you sob, twisting until you can see his shoulder in your peripheral, Johnny's eager face beyond it.
"Shut the fuck up," John hisses, dunking your head back under with a heavy palm on the back of your head. He lets you squirm for what feels like minutes, only dragging you back up when your panicked movements slow. You swallow more water than you spit out when he pulls you back up, breaths ripping through your esophagus like white water rapids. 
Over the sound of your coughing, Kyle's voice is loud and patronizing when he asks why you had to go and ruin a good thing. "Thought we were all getting along, luv. What drove you to do such a stupid thing?"
You want to tell him to go fuck himself, can't for the water pouring from your nose. Probably for the best.
"We feed you, clothe you, bathe you," John ticks each item off with a quick dunk beneath the surface, just enough to feel the sting of water. Johnny laughs at the last one, throws a bar of soap into the tub. "And you show us your thanks by breaking my expensive fucking camera?"
It seems foolish, in retrospect, the possibility that they could simply replace it - tonight, even - only occurring to you now, now that the urgency of a snap decision has worn off and you're faced with the repercussions you'd shrugged off earlier. 
They might kill you. You might drown in a dirty trucker tub.
John drops you as if disgusted and you fight to pull yourself up again, your hip glancing off the bar of soap when you finally get it and dropping you back under. John waits patiently for you to resurface, watches as you cough up as much as you can before speaking again. "Shoud just fucking leave you there."
You don't realize you're crying until your breath rips out in a sob of fear, the tears blending with the bathwater. It shouldn't be a relief when Johnny pipes up.
"Ach, if ye wan' tae kill her, at least let us have some fun wi' it."
Response barely audible over the water, you strain your ear to hear John's low pitch. "What did you have in mind?"
Johnny's eager, answer too ready. "Nothin' wrong wi' a good chase."
"Si's favorite," John agrees, contemplative.
"If we kill her, we have to find a new one," Simon counters, sounding almost bored. "Sounds like a lot of work."
"Gotta agree with Ghost," Kyle offers. "Kinda like this one, when she's not being a bitch."
You measure the silence in heartbeats, your vision tunneling with each dull thump in your chest. When John speaks again, he's deliberately louder, voice carrying enough that you don't have to strain to hear. "Alright. Compromise. We'll have a good chase, but winner gets to decide what we do with her." He leans close, his next words spoken against the shell of your ear. "So you'd best hope it's not Johnny who catches you."
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merlinssassybeard · 1 year ago
Text
'Ex' husband Gojo - You and I
Part 1
Tags- Gojo x fem reader, angst, self depreciation/suicidal stuff, miscarriage centered chapter
Synopsis- a look at both of their POVs, the aftermath a month later.
Satoru is devastated but so are you but worse...
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22nd October, 2016...
22nd October of 2016 was when it happened. The Legal Separation between you and Satoru Gojo.
Fortunately or not but the whole fiasco never went outside the borders of The Gojo Estate, despite it involving a few 'third parties'.
Luckily, the servants of the house were on a week off or else by now you and Satoru would have become the new gossip of the town no doubt.
Mr Ijichi, an assistant director at the Jujutsu High and a very close and trusted accomplice of your husband... or ex husband, you can't decide.
He is probably the only person who knows about it, not in detail of course since Satoru is very specific on who he wants to be close with but yes, you suspect Mr Ijichi is a bit aware of what went down because he was the one driving the car on that day.
You also suspected at first that maybe Ms Shoko is also in light of the events because she is definitely someone who gets her information one way or the other and the fact Satoru might have... no! He has infact told Shoko about all of it.
When Satoru introduced you to the World of Jujutsu Society, Ms Shoko was the first he got you to meet with and since you have had good relationship with her.
Since your legal separation happened, Shoko and Ijichi have been a mediator, set up by Gojo, for communication since, you know it and so does everybody who knows Gojo Satoru, he's too prideful to go back wagging his tail where he's not needed. Or so he thinks.
Satoru thinks because of his work schedules, he is not able to spend time with you as your husband and not able give you the life you hoped for which definitely affected your mental health (as predicted by his six eyes) and thus you decided for a divorce.
But the new information that he got on that day from you made him realize maybe he was indeed wrong thinking that you are perhaps different from other women who only fell for the looks but mostly for the money and the status of the Gojo family in general.
He never had plans to marry in the Jujutsu Society or The human World (haha as if!) be it arranged or love. He did not care. He had plans to become the wise Sage or a Monk of wisdom, a teacher/mentor like in video games. But all of it changed when he met you, a simple average human.
You were the one who taught Satoru so much. You were the one made him realize that even the strongest sorcerer has a soft heart that has the capability of falling in love.
But what made him solidify his love, making him realize that yes he has fallen in love and he is glad it is you was when you (unknowing about his past with the incident with Riko and Toji) made him realize the fact that all humans are not same.
This was the last and final straw that made the fall for you really bad and sick. He wanted to marry you. But he never said it out loud because of the repercussions you would have to go through and that is why he protested as well when you brought up the topic of marriage.
But none of it matters
None of it
Not anymore
He is done
All humans are the same.
Greed
Lust
Money
Fame
Power
All humans are indeed the same...
Satoru has no interest in any sort of relationships anymore. Everything feels sour and bitter. All he knows now is his role. His role as the strongest sorcerer, a responsible mentor, as the Head of his Clan, Face of the Jujutsu Society altogether. These are his priorities.
Gojo would very much prefer a permanent sort of freedom from you now knowing your true face.
'Ugh awful, so disgusting. A whore? Really? Is that all you thought of yourself y/n when you voluntarily got physical with me before marriage?', he said to himself in his head.
The only reason Gojo sent Separation papers instead of divorce was because it would startle both of yours and his families. The society isn't kind to divorced women and that too the ex wife of the six eyes sorcerer. Oh what a wonderful way to make him vulnerable for the curses and curse users!
He can say whatever he want against you but somewhere, inside that beautiful big and kind heart of his, he wants to talk to you, talk things out, talk about your feelings and wants to listen. But his mind refuses to let down his walls, ever gain!
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Days following the 22nd October, you mostly stayed locked up in your room while Mr Ijichi packed all of your husband's clothing and accessories.
Mr Ijichi isn't stupid, he knew it must be really hard for you that is why he tried his best to enter, collect the things and exit as quietly as he could.
'A whore? Why did you even say that you bitch. You really don't deserve ANYTHING in this world!', your days began with endless self loathing.
5th December, 2016
A lot happened in the month following the incident.
Most of your days were spent in self loathing because after your miscarriage at just 3 months, the doctor had declared that you're (uterus) not strong enough to carry a child.
These words are something a woman is most scared to ever hear in her life. And you were one of the unfortunates.
You had stopped taking your post miscarriage medications. You're mental health got worse as well due to continuous thoughts on how you acted up on impulses and ruined the only good thing you had. Days followed you couldn't even get the strength to get up from the bed every morning. Fading appetite lead to refusing food which further resulted to visible sunken cheeks.
The house staff didn't knew anything that took place during their week off and they had noticed changes around the household. From your behavior to the absence of the Head of the house. They were also worried for your health and didn't knew what to do.
The head of staff, Mr Kawaguchi, decided to make a call to the Master of the house since it is normal for him to be absent from the house due to his work.
Kawaguchi- Good morning Satoru sama. This is Kawaguchi from the house.
Gojo (a little annoyed)- I'm busy, call me later.
Kawaguchi- Sir actually there's a grave problem at the house.
Gojo (mockingly)- what? Did someone die or something? This better be important-
Kawaguchi- sir its Y/n sama. Y/n sama is not in good health.
Gojo (worried)- w- what?! What're you stupids doing? What happened to y/n? Is she okay? What did the doctors say?
Kawaguchi- uh about that sir... y/n sama didn't let us into her room and actually we had to... (nervously looks back at the the other staff, everyone nods)
Gojo- huh?
Kawaguchi- sir, we had to break into y/n sama's room. We have called the doctors and they'll-
Gojo- break into the room!? What is hap- Nevermind, I'm sending someone. You lot stay there and look after y/n till the docs arrive!
Kawaguchi- y- yes sir!
Gojo was now left worried at what the hell did he just hear on the call. 'What are you upto now y/n'. Is this some trick to bring him back out of pity and pretend nothing happened? That you, a month ago, didn't just randomly demand for a Divorce.
He was really annoyed and even if he wanted to go to the house he couldn't due to being out abroad for missions. He has been busy with overseas missions mostly after the separation.
He decided to send Shoko for a look and to inform him 'EVERY SINGLE DETAIL', verbatim.
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Shoko was sitting at the morgue, smoking, when she received a call from Gojo.
'Ha? Gojo? At this hour?', she wondered.
"Yea?", Shoko said with her usual nonchalant voice.
"I need a favor"
Gojo explained her the situation to which she agreed without hesitant, knowing what has been going on between you two and now this.
When she arrived at the Gojo Estate, she was welcomed by the worried faces of the staff that guided her to your room.
She started observing every detail. She saw the entrance door, broken. The inside of the master bedroom, dim, even with long sliding doors facing the beautiful and bright gardens. There were half eaten bowls of food. A trolley with clothes overflowing.
Shoko turned to looked at you and felt her heart wrench a little at the sight of you. She was horrified and worried. She is usually a very calm and relaxed person but you, you really made her loose her calm.
She knows you and has seen you in your good days. In light yellow summer dress beside Gojo, all smiles to now? Like this. Dark circles umder eyes and slight sunken cheeks, chipped lips and several medications.... wait what medications?
There were already a doctor present in the room who declared that its just dehydration and that it'll be okay with a few medicines.
The servants thanked the doctor and ordered the medicines.
Meanwhile, Shoko was already in a shock. The medicines piled up beside you on the bed and the bedside table were... post miscarriage pills. She enquired the whole situation from the staff.
All while, the two women staff got you up in the bed and gave you water.
Eyes half open, you recognised what was happening. You passed out of dehydration and couldn't hear the knocks of the servants outside for breakfast. They were worried and tried the other doors, through the garden, but they were locked. So they broke the entrance and found still in the bed with pills surrounding you. They all got worried and one called the doctor and the head called Gojo.
Shoko noticed you were up and ordered the ladies to open the curtains and windows and leave her for a while. Afterall she's got some questioning to do in Gojo's behalf.
She extended her hand to hold your left hand. It seemed cold to touch. "Hello y/n. Remember me?"
You struggled to open your eyes and look.
"Don't worry i won't ask you how you're doing", she joked.
"But i will ask about the medications y/n. Do not lie. I'm a doctor too", Shoko knew now is not the time but she also knew that if you were pregnant then why didn't you tell Gojo because he obviously didn't know.
Your ears started ringing. And eyes welled up. You were reminded of it again. You wanted to just lay back down and bury yourself in the warmth of the blankets.
But the cat was out of the bag. Shoko is a doctor. She knows medicines. You cannot lie. You cannot hide. You have to be strong, you have to show her that everything is okay and Satoru needn't be worried, not like as if he is anyway.
"Please.", you mumbled, she had leaned in and caressed your knuckles. "Shoko, do not let anyone know of this, i beg of you."
"Shhh", she shushed you, "Don't say that. I won't. I promise"
She continued, "... but what about Satoru? You can't hide it from him. The child was his as much as it was yours-"
You cut her in, "Shoko i wanted to tell him! I wanted him and only HIM to be the first to get the news of the...", you struggled but continued, "...of the pregnancy. I got to know myself in the 2nd month and he was coming back home just next month, it was all perfectly going... until it wasn't".
Shoko was visibly upset. She didn't knew what to say. All she was aware of was the things Gojo told her...
He went home with gifts and souvenirs for you, you gave him divorce papers, he tried convince you not to, you weren't ready to listen, you said some hurtful things, he realised his place and agreed for separation over divorce.
Looking at you she can tell you would breakdown any moment.
And she was right.
You did.
You broke down in tears.
Hyperventilating you mumbled, "Shoko they said i can't have children! Can you believe that! I can't have kids! And I'm so stupid i brought out a f-fucking Divorce paper when Satoru came home."
"He was so angry with me i could feel it even if he wasn't! I'm stuck Shoko! I-i just - just want to go hide under a rock or maybe i should just kill mys-"
Shoko pulled you in for a hug. "Ah! Thats enough. That's enough. Shush now. Its okay."
"I won't tell Satoru, don't worry"
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