#plot drop: the outcome
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yangnaseon · 6 months ago
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starter fechado com @danilcc.
tudo parecia uma bagunça, ainda assim estavam tentando seguir com a rotina normalmente, como de costume naseon tinha acordado cedo, ajudado hangyu a se ajeitar pra ir pra escola e se despedido de jihan antes dele ir pro trabalho, então se voltou a ter sua rotina de exercícios que agora tinha um pouco mais de horas extras devido a um pedido de sua fisioterapeuta para ajudar com possíveis dores e não acabar regredindo em seu quadro de melhora depois do grande esforço que fez no dia do incêndio. estava distraído se concentrando nos movimentos e na respiração da pratica de yoga e por isso não notou daniel o assistindo em um dos cantos da sala até que estivesse em uma posição relativamente constrangedora, de quatro olhando entre as pernas e vendo o mundo de ponta-cabeça, aquela que geralmente diziam que os filhos pequenos não deveria fazer porque estava chamando outro irmãozinho. se já estivesse com o rosto todo vermelho sabia que as bochechas teriam corado. se ajeitando se levantou e caminhou até o namorado, ainda que um pouco receoso, as coisas pareciam um pouco estranhas desde que se mudaram temporariamente para aquele apartamento e apesar de entender que daniel não precisava contar tudo sobre si além do que quisesse, ainda ficava um pouco deprimido por não conseguir passar confiança o suficiente pra ele contar sobre seja lá que parte de sua vida era aquela. ainda assim por mais incerto que estivesse sobre tudo o que aquele apartamento significava ou aquele maldito telefone que fez com que daniel gritasse consigo, não queria se sentir tão distante de daniel como se sentia naquele momento. ━ você acordou mais cedo hoje... ━ declarou um tanto preocupado que o namorado não tivesse dormido tão bem quanto desejava que ele tivesse dormido.
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morimasami · 6 months ago
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starter fechado com @nyisoo.
masami não tinha animo para nada nos ultimos dias, ainda assim ficar tanto tempo trancada em um quarto de hotel não estava lhe fazendo bem por isso tinha resolvido que sairia aquela noite. se arrumou e se deixou levar pelas luzes da rua até achar um bar que gostasse, tomando o balção perto do barman e se enchendo de cachaça em uma tentativa de esquecer todos os problemas e com sorte se divertir um pouco, o que parecia não estar funcionando muito bem. o que você está fazendo aqui sozinha? a pergunta fez masami sorrir se perguntando: quando não estava? talvez só tivesse se acostumado, nem sempre era ruim mas aquela noite parecia. ━ quer me fazer companhia?
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baekdachae · 6 months ago
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starter fechado com @blindfoldme.
━ porque? não é obvio? ━ dachae questionou achando certa graça em como jiwon não entendia a razão de sua companhia ali, as duas sentadas em uma mesa de um restaurante qualquer no bairro que não parecia tão caro. ━ bom porque eu preciso que alguém sempre me banque horas. ━ sinceridade demais? talvez mas era um fato, agora com o incêndio e sabe se lá se seus pertencias tinham sobrevivo porque não tinha tido coragem ainda para verificar, dachae estava quase sem um tostão no bolso então sempre que podia aproveitar que alguém pagasse algo pra ela ela aproveitaria horas. ━ mas eu juro que não pretendo ser um parasita, posso te compensar depois da forma que quiser. ━ e havia um pequeno ar de flerte ali mas não era uma oferta de fato com segundas intenções.
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songsejun · 6 months ago
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starter fechado com @sickprisoner.
sejun só estava caminhando pelo do hotel, explorando os lugares que o mesmo oferecia, tarde da noite após acabar acordando de outro pesadelo e por sorte não acordou nakyum junto então apenas deixou que o outro conseguisse dormir tranquilamente enquanto podia deixando um bilhete por precaução mas esperando encontra-lo descanso ainda quando voltasse.
foi em seu pequeno tour que acabou parando no bar, apenas de passagem mesmo já que não podia beber por conta dos remédios e também para ajudar nakyum a não ter recaídas, e ali encontrou um dos outros vizinhos hospedados. não sendo pego de surpresa pela pergunta já que apesar de não serem próximo já tinha conversado com hyuntae algumas vezes entre os esbarrões no complexo.
não consegue dormir? definitivamente não, mas sejun apenas negou com a cabeça para responde-lo. ━ e você? ━ presumia que não também já que o outro estava ali até aquele horário bebendo sozinho.
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songsejun · 6 months ago
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━ pode não fumar enquanto eu tiver aqui? ━ pediu enquanto vi shiwon pegar um maço de cigarros e o isqueiro. sejun nunca teve problemas com aquilo, ele próprio as vezes podia ser uma chaminé mas havia um tempo desde a última vez. ━ por causa do nakyum. ━ explicou, já que estava dividindo o quarto com o mesmo não achava ser uma boa voltar cheirando a cigarro, era um costume que seguia desde que o mesmo voltou da reabilitação e passaram a morar juntos. ━ você... tá bem... com tudo que aconteceu? ━ perguntou preocupado, depois de pegar um refrigerante e salgadinho, descontando seu nervosismo comendo besteiras como aquelas. ━ não acho que vamos voltar logo... tem que ver como as coisas estão... limpar... recuperar a área perdida pelo incêndio... enfim... ━ suspirou receoso de todo aquele cenário catastrófico. ━ mas espero que não seja o fim... adoraria me mudar mas... assim do nada é meio complicado.
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ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤopen starter .
plot drop pt II, quarto do hotel.
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˚。 ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ shiwon não era do tipo que achava horários inapropriados para qualquer coisa. toda sua vida parecia funcionar em horários inapropriados, de todo jeito. assim, não se importava com muse batendo na porta de seu quarto tarde da noite. estava sozinho agora. o vizinho com quem estivera dividindo inicialmente acabou indo ficar na casa de um parente, o que deixou o quarto do para o enfermeiro. depois de servir salgadinhos e avisar que muse podia se servir das cervejas ou refrigerantes que estavam no frigobar, pegou o maço de cigarros e o isqueiro e foi para a pequena varanda do quarto. não era fumante assíduo, mas estava fumando mais do que de costume desde o incêndio. ━━ acha que vamos voltar para casa logo ou o prédio vai ser condenado de vez?
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maliciousalice · 1 month ago
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Hear me out (or don't... it's fine I'm just venting and mean) yeah um I don't believe Chakotay was saved in Prod*gy s2.
#the 'time travel' makes no sense when you think on it. What happened to Prime Chakotay? He got killed they showed that.#At the end s1 Janeway finds an 'alternate chakotay in an alternate timeline' and that's the one they go and get#we saw the original get merc'd in the message. That ACTUALLY happened. Lmao.....#They didn't prevent THAT death because they didn't go to THAT Solum with the Infinity and stop it from happening#instead it was 'ALTERNATE#' implying other.#OG Chakotay wasn't taken over by the alternative one either nothing suggests that was the direction for him in s2#they didn't do anything like 'well you see chakotay because at the end of s2 when we converged timestreams you have merged with your other'#if they did want to recover the original from s1 then keep that clear instead of being convoluted dont use an alternate timeline wtf#instead the plot was focused on gywns stupid fucking paradox plot and her being fixed#chakotay was the one in a paradox too did that not matter nah dw about it he had to die for this outcome or someshit lmao why#In the extended message given to admiral janeway it shows him clearly getting left behind and surrounded. Sadly no one intervened.#I dont understand why they couldnt have just made s2 about his rescue alone IF they took their time it wouldnt be so difficult#to follow#above that the one they rescued was ruined by the 10 year gap so he wasn't 'saved' at all. God i hate s2 when you break it apart#I dunno the more i look at s2 Janeway and Chakotay the more upsetting it is. Janeway would NOT have settled for an imposter.#everyone going goo-goo gaa gaa over s2 but it's sloppy af imo and undermines a huge portion voyagers struggles#id really like them to flatly lay out their ideas because literally nothing ive heard explains the story or choices of s2 with conviction#instead it's oh clap for wesley or the new vulcan and other references yay#describe to me your timetravel clearly and i'll happily take a seat on it (there is still other crap stuff mind you)#this is the most repressed shit i my head i swear#im angry because s1 is so clearly mapped out to a brilliant degree and for whatever reason it's not in s2#i can see through it#insultingly people are eating it up and claiming it's better than ever nah dawg embarrassing#there are nice ideas inside s2 but they arent adequately rewarded#it doesnt compare to the timetravel in other trek because they kept it clear#i mean it could have been an interesting parallel to endgame but in the end janeway didnt even rescue him lmao they dropped her#why bother building up this mission only for her to give up and go 'i'll hand it over because im told to'. Janeway had fuck all this season#let alone settle for not fixing her own timeline and her own friends deadly circumstance dw just grab another one from the shelf i guess#the emotional fallout was absolutely missed because they didnt elaborate on anything. Plenty of show but no substance from the characters
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hanzajesthanza · 5 months ago
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this looks like a long time but initially it said 1 MONTH 15 days
#i think i will just have to grab cutscene footage from online... im not waiting for that sh... lmao#this has me admitting that i'm not a gamer and left that identity behind some time ago... which is kind of sad but ok#thoughh when witcher 4 drops... 😈#oh my god i typed witcher 34 instead of witcher 4. i think that already exists on the internet LOL#i'm actually not as excited for w4 as i am for the remaster of the first game#i also don't have any saves and i need footage of like some late-quest stuff (just for a mention of lore inconsistencies LOL)#like what do i do go beat tw3 AGAIN just to get a clip of ciri facing the white frost#...................... well........#ok ngl actually a shot of emhyr in the beginning of the game would be better to explain 'lore inconsistencies'#because that's probably more aggravating to me than the 'we changed the white frost so you can fight it' thing#that thing is understandable. that's like basic video game logic. antagonists can be fought...#and though i don't like that messaging that forces of nature can be fought...#i understand this is a AAA game with outcomes that need to be written as endings. it's not an experiential VN#emhyr in tw3 though has just annoyed me and has actually annoyed me ever since i found out his character from the books#after all that you're gonna take him and pretend he just wanted to be a better dad and have a good heir on the throne...#well ok he did want a good heir on the throne. to be fair. just. not ciri but her child ... ahem#tw3 just dropped that pregnancy plot like a hot potato 😭 because it's so uncomfortable#without vilgefortz to decapitate in the end and the lodge actively plotting around i admit it loses its meaning#also to be fair tw3 does not have that throughline about reproduction and destiny that the books do#like the begetting of progeny is a huge huge huge theme in the books and so ciri's storyline is just one of a few ways it comes up#without geralt and yennefer specifically being angsty at the start about children it doesn't really work as a plot for ciri later on#the elbow-high diaries
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yangnaseon · 6 months ago
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kakaotalk message to @ooseah.
📱 message to byun haesoo : oi, é o naseon aqui, tentei conseguir seu número só pra perguntar como você tá, espero não parecer estranho só fiquei preocupado. 
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songsejun · 6 months ago
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sejun não conseguiu conter a risada, era um manteiga derretida mesmo e qualquer um que desse a chance de conhece-lo saberia disso. ━ levanto em conta que tenho tatuado flores e asas de borboleta, definidamente não tem como enganar ninguém, mas de longe assim, de cara fechada, dá pra eu sustentar a fachada acha não? ━ porque as pessoas só viam o combo, um homem todo tatuado quase dos pés a cabeça com uma pessoa reputação, entretanto sejun não se incomodava só achava engraçado mesmo. ━ alguma coisa de bom vindo dessa tragedia não é mesmo? ━ tentou soar leve mas havia um suspiro, as memorias e sentimentos do corrido ainda o corroendo por dentro. ━ sim, sim, tá tudo bem, só fui meio idiota e um sortudo fodido. ━ entre um sorriso negou com a cabeça ainda se achando estupido por tudo que fez, sendo que um dos motivos estava na sua frente mas ficava feliz por ver o amigo bem, por tudo ter dado certo no final.
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˚。 ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ━━ bad boy? o maior manteiga derretida que conheço? ━━ disse, arqueando as sobrancelhas. ━━ acha que esse monte de tatuagens engana alguém? ━━ continuou em tom debochado. todavia, só estava perturbando o mais velho, como o som da risada deixava claro ao que o apertava um pouco naquele abraço, antes de complementar com tapinhas nas costas do outro. ━━ quer oportunidade melhor para colocar as fofocas em dia agora que o prédio pegou fogo? ━━ disse, rindo de novo, mas agora claramente de nervoso. ━━ naseon disse que você foi para o hospital… está se sentindo melhor, hyung?
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blujayonthewing · 3 months ago
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SUPREMELY frustrating that we found something actually really cool and intriguing and plot relevant in tonight's session but I'm still so constantly preoccupied with whether the DM is going to 100% kill us with sheer poor game design that I barely have enough brainspace left over to even enjoy it
#the first half of the session was a random-off-a-rolltable encounter that had nothing to do with anything and gave us literally nothing#and used up all our resources and took a REALLY long time because it was-- you guessed it! another deadly encounter for some reason!!#that's 100% of the encounters we've had so far!#and EXPLICITLY not related to what we were trying to investigate AND creatures that drop neither loot NOR BODIES#(two wil o the wisps and a water wierd)#we did a lot better in this encounter but it WAS deadly going off CR#and the point is now we've done just a short rest and THEN found the Plot Thing-- which our bard used up a bunch of resources to access#SO NOW IT'S LIKE. OKAY LOOK. I WANNA PLAY IN THIS SPACE BUT YOU KEEP TRYING TO KILL US WITH THINGS THAT AREN'T EVEN IMPORTANT#ARE YOU ABOUT TO WHOOPSIE-DOODLE US INTO A TPK ON ACCIDENT HERE???#like... it FEELS dangerous and A Bad Idea to engage with in a way that paradoxically SHOULD mean it's safer in a game like this#like-- okay if this was ACTUALLY as dangerous as it feels we wouldn't BE here on session six. does that make sense?#like when justin had us encounter a lich at level two in session three and I was immediately like OH okay he must have a plan here.#clearly some Scripted Plot is going to happen because there's no other reason he would put us up against a lich three sessions in. you know?#we started dying immediately and I was not afraid at all as a player because I trust justin wouldn't do that for no reason#or be so stupid to have that happen accidentally#THIS CAMPAIGN HOWEVER.... I DON'T TRUST LIKE THAT!!!#ARE WE GONNA FOR REAL PERMADIE BECAUSE YOU WASTED ALL OF OUR RESOURCES ON A RANDOM ENCOUNTER FIRST AND YOU DIDN'T THINK ABOUT THAT#ARE WE GONNA FOR REAL PERMADIE BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T REALIZE WE COULD USE THE ITEM YOU GAVE US TO OPEN THIS DOOR WITH A 5TH LEVEL SPELL#I WANNA PLAY IN THE SPACE BUT IT DOESN'T FEEL LIKE THERE'S ROOM FOR RISKTAKING WHERE THE BAD OUTCOMES WOULDN'T BE UNFUN CATASTROPHIC#AAAAUUUUGHHH#[shaking him violently] what do you mean that random encounter was a deadly encounter again what do you MEEEAAN#'oh huh this fight's taking longer than I thought' THEIR AC IS 19 AND THEY'RE RESISTANT TO NONMAGIC DAMAGE??#THE WATER WIERD KEEPS DISAPPEARING BACK INTO THE POND WHERE IT'S INVISIBLE??? MY BROTHER IN CHRIST HOW DID YOU EXPECT US TO DO IT FAST#hhhhhHHHH!!!!#I SHOULD BE THINKING AND TALKING ABOUT HOW COOL THE SECOND HALF OF THE SESSION GENUINELY WAS BUT I'M TOO STRESSED TO HAVE FUN#cannot stress enough that I'm in a million campaigns and I never have this problem with other DMs or with Highly Dangerous DnD Situations#melliwyk's party are in mortal peril constantly and it's... reaching a point where it's tiresome for how badly it's wearing on the PCs#but it rarely feels unfun stressful as a player playing a game#I never feel like the DM is about to accidentally end the whole campaign by bumblefucking us into a TPK at random#you know? it's different. this just feels unmanageable
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baekdachae · 6 months ago
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starter fechado com @memoriadepeixe.
o grito agudo fizera dachae gritar também pegando o primeiro objeto que viu pela frente para se defender, uma escova de cabelo, abaixando a guarda quando se deu conta que era só joonshi aparamente assustado com sua cara pálida. tinha acabado de fazer uma sessão de skin care aproveitando os cremes gratis oferecidos no banheiro do hotel e resolver esperar o tempo pra tirar a mascara no quarto e bom não esperava assustar um dos gêmeos que dormia nas camas ao lado da sua, mas era de se esperar já que nunca tinha dividido um quarto na vida e eles não conheciam seus costumes. ━ você me deu um baita susto! ━ a mais velha resmungou levando uma das mãos ao peito como se pudesse assim acalmar o próprio coração. ━ achou que eu era um fantasma? duvido que eles tenham uma pele tão hidratada, já que meio que estão mortos ━ apenas deixou a linha de pensamento escapar pelos lábios dando de ombros. se lembrando de ter ouvido vizinhos falar que o haneul era mau assombrado, mas achava que era baboseira, e lembrar do hotel a deixou um pouco depressiva quer dizer o que viria agora? ficariam ser apartamento? mau tinha se mudado. de qualquer forma não queria entrar naquele tópico com joonie já que ele tinha ficado muito mal com tudo que aconteceu. ━ quer fazer também? ━ apontou pro próprio rosto indicando que falava dos produtos de beleza.
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chris-prank · 10 days ago
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A desperate yandere in your area
Chapter 2 : Surprise visitor
Sub pathetic yandere x GN reader
Previous chapter
(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)
CW: NSFW, collar, praise kink, masturbating in secret, handjob, voyeurism, teasing, porn with plot, yandere behavior, mention of stalking, reader is horny too and L bomb
Word count: Over 2K
・*:.。..。.:*・*:.。..。.:*・
You sat on your bed, putting headphones in your ears. It had been a truly tiresome day, so you figured that a little alone time was well deserved before doing any house chores. Setting comfortably against your pillows, you selected one of those “man moaning and whimpering” audios. You closed your eyes as the delectable sounds filled your surrendering. 
You were starting to get into it, when suddenly, a moan seemed to have been louder than the others. They were also small whimpers…Weird…You decided to not pay much attention to this as your body relaxed. Your hand creeped down your pants when you went in the mood again. 
You were making rhythmic movements, trying to imagine a pathetic man in front of you making all these slutty moans. Even in your while enwrapped in your fantasy, you swore some noises were always too loud to be coming from your headphones. You used your clean hand to pause the audio and there it was again! A small whimper!
You checked your phone and no, the audio hadn’t started again. It was so faint that it was difficult for you to pinpoint where it was coming from. You took out your headphones and really tried to concentrate on the source of the noises. It almost sounded like an injured animal, maybe a cat had gotten into your apartment ? You knew that one of your neighbors had one, so it wasn’t impossible. You sigh in defeat, knowing that you wouldn't be able to finish what you started. You took a blanket and got off your bed. You roamed around the room as quietly as possible, not wanting to alarm the poor unknown creature. As you got closer to your closet you could feel your heart pulsating in your ears, the whimpers were coming from there. You raised the blanket, ready to throw it if the animal showed any sign of aggressivity.  
In one swift motion you opened the closet door. And there was… Jacce sitting on the ground, pumping his cock forcefully. He was so engrossed by the smell of your shirt covering his face, that he had failed to remember to keep it down. You didn't even scream or move. You felt like you dissociated from your body, as if you were watching this surreal outcome from a second point of view. 
The man opened his eyes when he was just about to cum, finally noticing you standing in full height before him— just like he had fantasized on so many occasions, but this time it was real. 
“F—ngahh—uck.” His eyes rolled back for a second, his body shuddering while he ejaculated. Ropes of cum shooting unintentionally in your direction.  
His sudden climax reactivated your nerve system. You dropped the blanket on him, ran out of the room and into the living room. Not only was there a man that broke into your house to masturbate, this intruder was JACCE! The barista you liked! This was the most horrifying situation you've ever been in. You regretted dreading that it could have been a wild animal, because it would have been better than whatever this was. 
You could hear shuffling noises behind you, certainly him trying to put his junk back into his pants as fast as possible.
“Hey w-wait.”
When you turned to face him, his expression was still stuck in this dazed state of the aftermath of cumming. Like clockwork every time he took a step forward you would step back.  
“Y-you weren’t… supposed to see th-this.” He breathed out like he ran a marathon, “let me ex-explain before doing anything… p-please.” 
Jacce looked down at your hands before looking back at you. You didn’t answer but didn’t make a move either. The man took that as a sign to continue. 
“I… I know what it looks like… A guy that you barely know, touching himself in your closet… in your house…” He hesitated at the last part, “but I’m not a creep! I-I did this because I love you!”
Love me?! You had noticed before that he gave you more special treatment compared to other clients… but you never expected this! You felt your body getting weaker, as if you were about to faint from the stress. 
“Are you… going to hurt me?”
Jacce's expression seemed to drop at the question, as if he was heartbroken that you thought he would do such a thing. This was not going as planned and he hated himself for it. You weren’t supposed to find him in your closet. You weren’t supposed to see him like this. 
“I could n-never hurt you! I love you!” He was speaking with conviction, “I just want to be there for you! To serve you like you deserve… If anything you should be the one hurting m—”  
“What are you talking about?!” You cutted him short in a panic, “I don’t want t-that!”
“What!? B—But I can be so good for you!” His voice raised slightly in desperation,  “most guys are too stupid to even split the house chores! I'm ready to do everything for you!”
You stepped back while he kept walking forward. He was so absorbed in waves of emotions to notice the fear in your eyes. He gripped his shirt, his hands trembling and tears forming in the corner of his eyes. 
“I would NEVER take you for granted! I would be the most attentive and obedient person in your entire life!” His entire body was now shaking violently, “I don’t even have to be your boyfriend, I can be your pet!” 
You didn’t know what to do. Your brain was going thousand miles an hour, making it near impossible to settle on something. While trying to think clearly, you also had to focus on what he was saying. He kept going on and on about the fact the he wanted to… serve you. What if it was true and not just excuses to make himself look less bad? 
You decided to test your luck. It's not like you had another choice. Jacce was taller than you and getting him more agitated was not a good idea. You builded up all the energy you had left and talked over him in an authoritarian tone. 
“Sit down against the wall.”
And he did. 
All the panic that contortionned his face had completely disappeared, replaced by an expression of anticipation. He looked sincere about his intentions… but you couldn’t totally believe him just yet. The fear in your guts was still present, but it was slowly being overshadowed by something else. Your mind kept wandering back to the whimpers he cried out while touching himself and how cute he looked all desperate. You could sense the familiar sensation creeping between your legs the longer you looked down at him. Jacce seemed to be also stimulated by the turn of events, because he quickly placed his hands between his legs, not wanting to blow up his small chance with you. This pose gave him an even more submissive look, which made you go crazy. 
What if… maybe we could both take advantage of this situation. 
You were indeed craving for someone like this. Until now you could only find them in fiction and even then it was hard to dig them out in the sea of dominant love interests. Jacce would get your attention and you would be able to feast upon the site of his patheticness. You were definitely twisted to consider this outcome about a man who broke into your house, but it’s not like you would be doing anything wrong. It's your house so your rules on how to deal with intruders. 
“Let me see what's happening between your legs.”  You tried to keep the confident facade as you spoke. 
Jacce's shoulders jolted a bit in embarrassment, but he did reveal the tent in his pants. He looked so disheveled with his flushed face and his coat lazily falling off one his shoulders. So hot. 
“Do you want me to make it better?” Your voice was dripping with such honey, that you were even shocked by it. 
He nodded frantically. Consent was something crucial and he had just gave it to you with indisputable enthusiasm. 
You got down on your knees to get better access to him. You reached your hand out for his bulge, caressing it, which made his body tremble in anticipation. You unzipped his pants and slightly pulled at the rim of his boxers. His erection sprong out, finally letting you have a good look at it. His dick was 6.5 inches, the foreskin pulled back to reveal his pink gland, now on the verge of turning red. The tip was crowned with little pearls of precum, some of them sliding down his shaft like water drops on a car window. It made your mouth salivate just by thinking of wrapping your lips around it and admire his face contorted in pleasure. 
Jacce was clearly trying to stay quiet, but when you spat in your hand, he couldn’t help but whimper at the thought of what was going to happen. You rubbed your palm on his tip, which made him buck his hips, before wrapping your fingers around it. Your thumb was barely reaching your index finger and that warmed your lower half even more. The idea of something like this stretching your inside was so enticing.
“T–thank y–you… Haah… I’ll be so so good to you, I promise.” 
Jacce leaned in, clinging to the front of your shirt. At last he was feeling your divine touch. A part of him still couldn’t believe the turn of events. He imagined that you would have at least tried to hit him or something. But no, there you were, willingly giving him a handjob like a merciful master. You squeezed the base of his shaft, admiring the precum oozing out of the tip. You started to stroke him at a medium pace. Surprisingly, his voice was more soft spoken than what you expected. He was murmuring needingly into your ear while his drool stains your clothes. Jacce was still sensitive, since he had already cum not too long ago, causing him to swallow back cries multiple times. 
“If you want me to continue you’ll have to answer some questions, ok?” 
You felt like you were babying this grown man, talking to him like that. But he didn’t seem to mind, since he nodded without a complaint. Your grip started to loosen up tho, since that wasn’t a satisfying answer. 
“Use your words or I’ll stop making you feel good.” 
“I’ll–I’ll answer!” He whined.
“Good job.”
He shivered at the praise. That’s what he had dreamed of hearing from you for months. You picked up the paste again, pumping him harder. His head fell back as he unconsciously reached one hand out to his hidden collar. You were taken aback at the sight of it. How depraved is this guy!? Without thinking, you placed your index and middle fingers in the loop and tugged at it, making him moan like never before while jerking his head back up. You were pretty sure he almost came just from that. 
“First question… How long have you been stalking me?”
“I st–started five months ago Mmm-Ahh… ” He sobbed, it was so hard for him to speak, “Y-you were always so n–nice to me when you N-gh came into the coffee shop. I wanted to kn-know more.”
You’ve been going to that place for about a year, so at least he hasn’t been doing it for that long. You were a bit taken aback that you never suspected anything though. This guy has been either really good or very lucky until now. 
“Do you break into my house often?”
“N-no.”
You abruptly stop touching him, forcing him to speak again.
“I–I swear! I only did it six times!”
He arched his back and whimpered, urging you to stroke him again, which you happily obliged. It was hard not too! 
“P-please u-use me, use me, use me! I want to be your dumb ngAhhh little puppy…” 
The words were spilling out of his mouth with pure urgency and he bucked his hips against your palm uncontrollably. All clear signs that he was close to release. You couldn’t count the number of times you fantasized about turning someone into such a mess, but now that you were experiencing it, your simple imagination was nothing compared to the real thing. Your own self control started to waver the more it went on. Jacce knew that he was about to cross his limit as well, closing his eyes shut, preparing himself. But the grip around his cock loosened, until it completely disappeared. He whined and moved his hips, searching for the touch of your warm hand again. 
“W–why did you stop? I–I told you what you wanted to k-know!” 
You didn’t answer, only looking at him with an indecipherable expression. All the moans, whimpers and other noises he let out, made you so horny that it was becoming too much to bear, but you knew it would make him way too happy to be used to make you cum. You couldn’t let him release either. He didn’t deserve it, not yet anyway. 
“I’m not letting you cum.” 
“Wh-what!? W-why?!” He complained again. 
“You broke into my house and stalked me for five months.” You swiftly got on your feet, “bad boys don’t deserve to ejaculate.”
Bad boy was like the last nail into the coffin for the pathetic mess. In Jacce’s top ten of the worst things you could say to him this one was pretty high. Small tears rolled down his cheeks as a result.  
“You… you’re right… I’m sorry.” He sniffed.
You did feel a little bit bad for making him cry and wanted to fuck him dumb too. No, not tonight. You had to hammer that in your brain to resist your desires. You decided to at least help him a bit before kicking him out. 
“Let's get you cleaned up.” 
“N-no! I–I’m supposed to be the one to–to take care of you.” he whined.
You gave him a stern glance, which shut him up instantly. You came back with a bottle and a wet towel in hand, crouched down in front of him and handed out the water. He took it, chugging it halfway in one go. 
“T-thanks, you’re so nice to me… even when I don’t deserve it.” He whispered, looking away with a subtle smile on his lips. You could sense that, despite his guilty look, he was celebrating this whole situation on the inside. 
With the towel you cleaned off his cock, still covered in a mixture of your spit and his cum. Jacce was looking at you like a puppy who made a mess and was watching his master taking care of it. His breath was getting heavy again and you could feel his cock twitching through the towel. He was totally getting turned on at how gentle and attentive you were to him. This had transformed into the perfect domestic fantasy in Jacce’s twisted mind. 
“I’ll help you to the door if you think your legs aren’t strong enough yet.”
“I thought you accepted me! Can’t I stay!?” 
“I haven’t made my final decision yet.” You crossed your arms,“if you really are a good boy you will let me think about it.”
Hanging over his head the possibility of being yours was enough for him to accept your request. He didn’t even consider the fact that you could call the police the second he leaves. Besides, the fact that you decided to touch him, instead of all the other decisions possible, was making him a bit more confident. After helping him up, you opened the front door and waited for him to leave. Jacce stopped, now the roles were reversed with his figure overtowering you. 
“You promise to think about it?” He whispered anxiously. 
“Yes, now please get out.”
He nodded and you watched Jacce for a bit to make sure he was really leaving, before closing the door. You looked down at the spot where the desperate man was previously sitting. You could feel your guts twist again, urging you to satisfy the heat between your legs. You sighed as you went into your room. The dirty audios you used to listen to were definitely not going to be enough to satisfy you anymore. 
・*:.。..。.:*・*:.。..。.:*・
I love nothing more then making a reader who is horny for the yandere too 😌
Link for the chapter on Ao3
Here is an other old sketch I made for this chapter back in 2023!
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morimasami · 6 months ago
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segurar eunbyul foi apenas instintivo, por sorte tinha uma bom reflexo. ━ sem problemas. ━ o pequeno esbarrão não tinha a machucado ou coisa do tipo, ainda que tivesse masami não ficaria chateada com algo como aquilo. ━ você tá bem? ━ perguntou por descaso de consciência já que a mulher parecia um pouco ansiosa para voltar pro complexo, masami ainda estava receosa com a situação com medo de como poderia encontrar o apartamento e a ideia de ter que recomeçar tudo de novo era sufocante. ━ sei como é. ━ assentiu entre um riso fraco sem tanto humor. ━ você vai agora? digo, pro haneul, se quiser podemos rachar o valor do táxi.
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starter fechado, com @morimasami ; plot drop part 2
Eunbyul nem sabia direito como ainda estava acordada. Não dormia desde o dia anterior. Ela havia se recusado a ir para qualquer lugar; via seus vizinhos saindo da frente do prédio para ir ao hospital ou a casa de parentes, mas ela continuava ali. Queria estar por perto quando fossem autorizados a entrar novamente. Sentia-se como um zumbi por causa de tantas horas acordada. Conseguiu passar o dia apenas por causa da solidariedade dos vizinhos. Nem lembrava quem, mas haviam lhe dado o que comer e beber. Ainda assim, parecia que o cansaço chegava até os ossos. Quando saiu a notícia de que eles estavam autorizados a entrar no prédio para pegar seus pertences, Eunbyul foi a primeira a se levantar de onde estava sentada no chão. Porém, levantar bruscamente assim fez com que sua visão ficasse turva e escura. Cambaleou para o lado e teria caído no chão caso não tivesse segurado na pessoa que estava passando ao seu lado naquele exato instante. Só quando a visão voltou ao normal, ela conseguiu firmar-se de pé. "Me desculpe!", disse para Masami enquanto soltava seu braço. "Eu levantei rápido demais".
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sayruq · 6 months ago
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The former head of the Mossad, Israel’s foreign intelligence agency, allegedly threatened a chief prosecutor of the international criminal court in a series of secret meetings in which he tried to pressure her into abandoning a war crimes investigation, the Guardian can reveal.
Yossi Cohen’s covert contacts with the ICC’s then prosecutor, Fatou Bensouda, took place in the years leading up to her decision to open a formal investigation into alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity in occupied Palestinian territories. That investigation, launched in 2021, culminated last week when Bensouda’s successor, Karim Khan, announced that he was seeking an arrest warrant for the Israeli prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, over the country’s conduct in its war in Gaza. The prosecutor’s decision to apply to the ICC’s pre-trial chamber for arrest warrants for Netanyahu and his defence minister, Yoav Gallant, alongside three Hamas leaders, is an outcome Israel’s military and political establishment has long feared. Cohen’s personal involvement in the operation against the ICC took place when he was the director of the Mossad. His activities were authorised at a high level and justified on the basis the court posed a threat of prosecutions against military personnel, according to a senior Israeli official. Another Israeli source briefed on the operation against Bensouda said the Mossad’s objective was to compromise the prosecutor or enlist her as someone who would cooperate with Israel’s demands. A third source familiar with the operation said Cohen was acting as Netanyahu’s “unofficial messenger”. Cohen, who was one of Netanyahu’s closest allies at the time and is emerging as a political force in his own right in Israel, personally led the Mossad’s involvement in an almost decade-long campaign by the country to undermine the court.
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periwinkla · 7 months ago
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Ultimately, I believe ace attorney is a tale about love. How far are you willing to go for the people you love? But also, how far are you going to fall for them? Most of this love is platonic, not even romantic in nature / could or could not be seen as such, but really the crux of the matter is that regardless, it all stems from a place of deep affection and/or adoration. Phoenix both became a better person but sacrificed and risked so much because of love, even compromising his integrity and morality at some point. First love for his lost friend, then love for a girl who made him feel adored, then love for his lost mentor and her sister which he couldn't leave alone, then love for a child he needed to provide for. Miles completely and utterly destroyed himself but later glued back the pieces together in order to become better because he felt guilty for his beloved father's death, and later felt guilty for disgracing his legacy. But also his love for his friends and family gave him courage to make himself better. He charters private jets at the drop of an hat and surrenders his badge and breaks the law if need be. Franziska's love for her father made her ruthless and amoral, but her love for her little brother made her a better person. She assists in his and Phoenix's absurd plan to play at defense attorney, helps save Maya, then assists Miles in his cause for Kay. Lana's love for her sister made her throw her morals out the window, ruining the life of many people. But her love for her little sister also made her realize her mistakes and atone for them. Iris loved her sister despite it all and that corrupted her into betrayal, but she also loved Phoenix, and that gave her the courage to realize her mistakes and atone for them. Love is the reason for most plot points - it leads the storyline. It can cause both positive and negative outcomes and I really appreciate the realism in that. The characters truly care for each other, there's just so much love in AA.
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breakyourrxles · 2 years ago
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❥5 weeks (m)
↳ In which a freelancing stylist gig puts you between a rock and a hard place.
The rock being ‘never slept with a client before and not looking to start now,’ and the hard place being a younger than you and much too daring for his own good, Jung Wooyoung.
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jung wooyoung x older stylist fem!reader — coworkers to lovers, mutual pining, porn with plot, explicit sexual content. [12.1k wc] cws: unspecified age gap!! they’re both down atrocious but he is the one making all the moves, mutual masturbation, a metric fuckton of dirty talking, praise, humiliation, pet names including ‘mommy,’ and the use of ‘noona’ but really it’s his kink and not hers (a drop of ‘daddy’ too but it’s more for comedic purposes than anything), drop of a breeding kink (also kinda comedic), oral sex (m+f), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, wooyoung has a Big Dick and is wildly kinky and confident.
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“Oh, give me a break!”
Shoulder sling of your bag dropping from you in exasperation and barely caught by your hand as to not allow your belongings to fall to the floor, you roll your eyes briefly towards the man informing you of the terrible news of the day. Of the month.
“Are you kidding me? This isn't what my contract said.”
“It sort of is,” the man reluctantly replies, avoiding eye contact that he knows will not help make the situation any better for either of you. “Blah blah blah 'in the event of a personnel shift then we have the freedom to place you wherever we need you.”
You knew, you were lying in hopes of being able to get out of it.
Unfortunately, when you took the job and signed the contract, you did know that this would be a likely outcome. Freelance stylists were able to choose three groups of which they had preference in working for throughout the show — bigger groups come with their own stylists and full slots majority of the time, but occasionally need additional hands on, which is where you come in. Smaller groups have less on board staff and require more freelance help on set — also where you come in, although, not ideally.
Of the six groups on broadcast, you had worked with four. three you enjoyed, they went on the list of preferences.
The one that you didn't enjoy working with, along with the other that you hadn't become acquainted with, were left off. Nothing against them, just better to play it safe with what you're familiar with.
And now you have to find out which group you got assigned for the next five weeks.
Slinging your bag back onto your shoulder with a huff, you thank the man for his time even in spite of not really being all that thankful, and make your way down the white walled hallway, the names of groups you're familiar with passing you by — slowing down as you pass the ones you had wished to work with and happily waving towards the members as you carry on — it's a brief relief, you'll still get to see them and have fun with them, just not as much as you would have given alternate circumstances.
And then you reach the room number, 3B.
ATEEZ.
Squinting slightly, you recall that you're actually not completely unfamiliar with them, and happily, they're not the group you didn't enjoy working with. You already know the names of everyone in the group, and you think you remember doing some behind the scenes broadcast work when they were still in their first year, albeit, not much.
It could have been worse.
Walking into the room, you first introduce yourself to the entire lot of people, then focus towards managers and the other stylists — all very welcoming and happy to receive the help, it seems.
Then, the members.
All of them gathered around, clamoring to accommodate you in such an overwhelming way that you can't hardly make out a single word being said one way or another, Hongjoong finally shushes the rest to get a word in edgewise and calmly welcomes you on board, along with apologizing in advance for whatever it is that may take place as a result of working with the lot.
You don't know what he means by it exactly, but you're familiar with working with boy groups — some things are pretty standard across the board. The dirty jokes, the messiness, the crudeness — if you're lucky, it mostly ends there, immature young men just trying to fit in having a good time in the midst of their otherwise busy schedules — you're used to giving it a pass.
But you sift through your mental rolodex of stories that you've heard about groups through the grapevine — water cooler among stylists type talk — and fail to land on anything in particular about them.
When it comes to this sort of stuff, no news is good news.
The boys scatter back to where they had come after the warm welcomes, and you dart your head around in an attempt to find a place to put your personal belongings. Truthfully, the room is small for the amount of people in it, and you're seemingly the last to join the crew. You wish not to place your purse down on the floor next to the door, but without another option at hand, you resign yourself to the fact that this will have to make due. Phone and wallet sticking out of the top, you kneel down to scoot the items against the wall when a strong hand comes from the side, taking you by the wrist. It's gentle even in it's abruptness, and takes you by surprise all the same.
“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you,” he says, quickly letting go of you but remaining in his knelt position next to you. “Don't put it there, I got a place.”
Eyebrows furrowing at the words, and the implications, you cock your head to the side before responding to him. “Problem with thieves? I mean, I know it's a pirate concept—“
“Oh, very funny!” he says, matching your playfully mocking tone with wide eyes. “No, but the door has loose hinges and if someone comes through that thing fast enough it's going to destroy everything you've got in there.”
Come to think of it, you had noticed that upon entry. Not as funny as what you had said, though.
The both of you stand, your items in hand again, and he leads the way towards a small area of the room that he appears to have made out for himself. It's simple: two folding chairs, one for sitting, and one to serve as a table, with his food already set out on it — the man points towards under the table-chair. “Put it there.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you know my name?” he asks, no discernible tone to it, but you can't recall an idol ever asking you the question outright — especially knowing that you're a freelancer.
You watch him only break eye contact with you long enough to seat himself back down, taking his lunch into his hands and nodding towards the makeshift platform, communicating to you that he wishes for you to use the chair for its intended purpose now.
“Is this a test? Or some kind of, I don't know—“ you pause, leaning back comfortably. “Am I like, supposed to?”
And he laughs in response, a sudden chuckle as if not having expected the retort at all. You watch him wipe his mouth with a napkin and take a sip of his drink before settling in to respond to the comment. “No, I was just curious because I wouldn't introduce myself again if you already had. I'm Woo—“
“Wooyoung, I know who you are.”
“Wow, all of that just for you to already know who I am?” he questions, wide eyed again — you can tell that he's enjoying the banter between the two of you. You'd be lying if you had said you weren't doing the same. “Enjoy playing games, is it?” he asks.
Typically, you would say no. But right now?
There had been a handful of idols that you had worked with over the years where the two of you hit it off naturally, comfortably. A welcomed lack of professionalism in an area of work that didn't normally allow for any room for it, being able to meet people that truly allowed for you to simply be yourself — it made going to the job everyday just that much easier.
“So,” you begin, not wanting to allow the conversation to die down as the man with the two-toned hair in front of you continues his meal with all eyes on you as you speak. “Who has the problem head in this group?”
“Problem head? “ Wooyoung exclaims, having never heard the verbiage before.
“Yeah, like who is going to be the biggest issue. Who doesn't wash their hair like a normal person or never brushes it or whatever.”
“Oh!” he yells, finally having caught on, and wipes his mouth with the napkin again before pointing across the room and loudly calling out towards another member. “It's Seonghwa! It's 100% Seonghwa! Never seen that man brush his hair in my life!”
Laughing, you turn to look behind you at Seonghwa seated in front of a mirror, another stylist going to work on his hair — roughly, at that — and as you make eye contact with a Seonghwa who is shaking his head, you move your eyes up and towards the stylist behind, solemnly nodding in accordance to Wooyoung's claims.
You turn back, Wooyoung shoving more food into his mouth. “Told you,” he mumbles between chews. “You got a boyfriend?”
You had let the conversation die down, and just as quickly, Wooyoung sparks it up again, still gnawing on the chicken in his mouth as he gets the words out.
“No,” you carefully reply, question lacing your tone that the man is sure to pick up on, but he only grins, swallowing, wiping and leaning forward towards you so that he doesn't have to carry his voice in more than a whisper.
“Good.”
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By the end of the first week, you had a good idea that you might have sex with this guy.
On a surface level, you weren't too thrilled with the prospect, though. In all of your years working in the industry, you had never crossed that line. You knew colleagues who had, and worked with idols that regularly did, but despite not being morally or fundamentally opposed to the idea, it seemed better for everyone to just not. It was easy enough, usually. You had met some people that you had hit it off with and sure, the thought had crossed your mind occasionally — the sneaking 'what if' of a fling with someone, but it never felt especially in grasp. You weren't going to go out of your way to make it happen, and as far as you could tell, no one else had on their end, either.
Until now.
An entire week of friendly banter and heavy flirting that only came on stronger and stronger with each day, it's the first friday when you have Wooyoung in your chair and hair in your hands that the glances shared felt especially loaded.
Pulling on his hair slightly at a particularly tricky knot, you apologize, watching him wince vaguely in the reflection — only for him to glance up from his phone with a half grin and a wicked pointedness to his eyes.
“It's fine, I like it.”
And you want to be able to ignore it. Ignore the implications of the words. Feeling foreign eyes on you, your vision quickly darts over to make contact with Hongjoong's — seated next to the two of you and being dealt with on his own. He chuckles under his breath, having overheard the comment, and you pull on Wooyoung's hair again, this time on purpose.
A silent insistence for him to behave.
“How old are you, noona?” Hongjoong suddenly asks from beside you, eyes glued back down to his phone screen, and you're not sure why he's asking.
You have your suspicions, though.
“Older, old enough,” you respond. It pulls another chuckle from the leader of the group.
“Makes sense,” he says, finally receiving the go ahead to get up from the chair after having been finished with. “He likes that. Good luck with this one.”
Feeling heat rush to your face, and not particularly enjoying the fact that everyone in the room seems to be in on the situation at hand, you look back at Wooyoung in the reflection: still grinning with not a care in the world related to the topic.
'Play it cool,' you tell yourself with a deep inhale. “You do this often? Flirt with your stylists?”
“I wouldn't say often,” he responds plainly. “It's not unheard of, though.”
“You run off a lot of stylists?” you laugh, playfully pulling at his hair again.
“No,” he says, a certain cuteness taking his tone before leaning his head back against the headrest and looking up at you directly. “They don't run off.”
You want to be better. Stronger. Able to ignore it. Not to be like them, you don't flirt with idols you work with and you certainly don't sleep with them, either.
But you're guessing Wooyoung has plans for that, as well.
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On the next Wednesday when filming runs late, with the majority of the staff having left, Wooyoung, Yunho and Yeosang are kept behind to refilm some shots. For only three members needing attention, and the normal staff for the group having to accompany the rest to their other schedules, you're left in charge of the three — along with their managers.
Which is simple enough: Yeosang, as off the wall nutty as he is, is relatively easy to work with, and Yunho being so kind and willing to do whatever it takes to make your job easier, you're only left with the one problem-child, as it were.
When filming for the three finally wraps at a quarter past one in the morning, you thank everyone for their time and willingness to accommodate you as they all head out to meet up with the rest of the members...until a PD comes in last minute once again and requests for another shoot for Wooyoung.
“It's fine, I'll catch up with you guys later,” he tells the rest, including his manager — tired and worn no doubt from a hectic schedule of, well, managing Wooyoung.
“How are you going to get home?” you ask him, confused about his dismissal of his handler as he hurriedly shakes his black and blonde hair free of the half ponytail it had been put into as they were leaving.
“I know how to get home, I'm an adult,” he laughs in response.
“I mean with the fans.”
“Oh,” he pauses, slipping on the shoes from wardrobe that they had had him in prior. “That's easy to deal with, honestly. Already scoped out the escape!”
For some reason, you don't even question that to be the truth. It sounds like something he would have already had planned.
“Are you leaving now?” he asks, rushing out towards the hallway, only lingering in the doorway long enough to catch your response.
And you know that deep down, you should — that the best way to avoid trouble, and subsequently Wooyoung, is to leave while he's caught up, with no chance of roping you into some nonsense that you wish you didn't want to be roped into.
But at the same time...what could it hurt?
What's a little adventure?
And the way that his lips curl at the response is devilish — has you second-guessing your choice already. Evidently, a man with an extremely devious plan that he has every intention of putting into action with the older stylist that he barely knows anything about.
Suddenly, you recall Hongjoong's words just a few days prior. A warning. 'Good luck.'
“Be back soon!” Wooyoung chimes, “and then we can get out of here.”
As if the 'we' wasn't bad enough, it's the way his bottom lip catches on his teeth as he exits the room, eyes locked with your own before disappearing into the madness of idol life once again.
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You had sort of hoped that something would have come up that barred this scenario that you had originally agreed to. Now darting and weaving through dark, empty hallways of the entertainment building — quite possibly the last people in there that night besides overnight security, when Wooyoung finally brings you to the VIP entrance that he had briefly mentioned before, dual hearts sink at the sight just beyond the large, glass doors.
Pouring rain — unable to be heard from inside of the massive concrete building, but now plain as day in front of you, Wooyoung huffs at the sight, scanning the scattered construction equipment also littering the outdoors — not taken into account, but now definitely hurting the escape plan that had already been set into action.
“I guess we just make a run for it,” Wooyoung sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. “This wasn't really part of the plan, you know.”
“I gathered, but—“ you pause, bringing his attention down to the three bags of your heavy and also quite expensive belongings that you would rather not get soaking wet. “I'm not running anywhere, not well, at least.”
He huffs again, looking up again to stare back out of the window pane. “Well, we can't stay here, don't think we have much of a choice.”
You had already accepted the fact, but hearing the words only causes a pleading sigh to drop from you. “Yeah...where are we running towards, anyways? What's the plan?”
Bringing a hand up, Wooyoung points out towards what appears to be just large equipment for moving and storing concrete and other such things, before elaborating further.
“Across the parking lot and then across the street there's a small, 24-hour convenience store where we can wait and call a cab.”
“How is that safe?” you question, dumbfounded. “How is it safe for you to be seen running around in convenience stores in the middle of the night with a random woman?”
“No one is going to see us, first of all, the weather is terrible and no one knows about this exit,” he begins, “second of all, my friend owns the place, so we'll hang out in the employee lounge until it's time to go.”
You visibly frown at the plan, still worried about your work items, but Wooyoung catches it — gently placing his hand on your wrist just as he had the first time the both of you met.
“We'll...figure it out, okay? Trust me. But we gotta get out of here before security calls security.”
Darting through the doors, Wooyoung holds your hand tightly into his as the two of you slosh through the downpour of the great outdoors — cold and windier than you both had anticipated, when the wind catches you and the bulkiness of your belongings just right, Wooyoung tightens his grip even more as he feels you veer off of the trail. You call out to him once, pulling your things against you as best as you can and he only calls back, “I know!” before finding some sort of shelter where you can hide for the time being.
And once inside, you realize how cramped it is.
It's a totally spur of the moment decision obviously, and not much else to work with, you know this — crammed face to face between two metal sheets in an otherwise packed construction shed — but you're able to shrug your bags off of your shoulder and push them to the side with your foot to grant you a bit more space as you attempt to wring out your hair, dress, and cardigan.
Eventually, when Wooyoung comes back to mind, you look up at him — thin, wet, t-shirt clinging to every curve and dip of the muscle in his chest, hair windswept and just as wet as everything else — and you try not to take notice, or allow your eyes the freedom to trail down, because you remember that he left in sweatpants, and that's plenty good enough to go off of.
But with not much space between you and the hastiness in which you arrived, Wooyoung's thigh ends up not so gently crammed just between your legs.
You notice. You can't help but to notice, you can only hope that he doesn't.
However unlikely that may be.
The first violent shiver of the cold air taking the wetness of your body, you insist that Wooyoung ignores, and he does, at your request — but by the second, he's not so willing to listen to orders.
Taking you by the wrist, the man pulls you forward and against him, your hands only able to catch yourself on his shoulders to keep from falling completely flat against his body, and you have no choice but to force down the sound that being pulled up and along his leg threatens to elicit.
'Bite it back, bitch,' you tell yourself in thought.
“Don't be difficult, it's freezing out here,” Wooyoung finally says, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you pressed into him. “Keeping you from catching pneumonia isn't really my go-to move.”
You chuckle, the only thing you can do at the ridiculousness of the situation. Turning to look outside as the rain beats loudly against the shed that the both of you take shelter in, Wooyoung shifts again, causing the top of his thigh to press upwards and harder against you. Eyes screwing shut, you try to steady your breathing — it's so dumb, you think as the situation unfolds, feeling like a teenager who can't keep it in her pants but in a situation where it otherwise wouldn't be an issue if it weren't for the fact that the hot guy that you work with — who almost definitely wants to fuck you — is currently lodged against your pussy with either not a clue and therefore doesn't have the knowledge to keep still, or very much aware and no interest in keeping still.
You didn't even really want to know which one it was, you just had to wait for the rain to lighten up.
“Hey.”
You turn your head to match Wooyoung's gaze, air finally drying out his hair a bit to leave it more air dried than soaking wet. He looks good, you hate that.
“You ever hook up with anyone you worked with?”
Mind reader? Gross.
You choose to ignore the implications, answering in a way that doesn't satiate the curiosity that he's hoping for. “Yeah, I used to date a guy who worked for the same company I did before I went freelance.”
“That's not what I mean,” Wooyoung frowns. Of course he wouldn't let you get away with it. “I mean an idol. The talent.”
Clearing your throat, you find that your proximity to Wooyoung that once offered a comforting warmth was now emitting far more of a scalding heat, and with your palms pressed to his shoulders, you manage to free yourself from him slightly, back against the metal sheet behind you and creating space between you and the nosy man just in front of you.
“No, I have not.”
“Why not?”
“I don't know!” you snap, not angry but unsure of what it is that he's fishing for. “Just...never been in a situation where that was a realistic thing that could happen, I guess. It's not really something that I seek out. I'm there to work.”
“You've never wanted to?” Wooyoung then says, tone dropping slightly and a small shift of his leg. It's enough that you can ignore it, but with your face fully visible to him now, you're not sure how much you can fake it if he starts to catch on and get braver. “Never desired someone?”
He's extremely perceptive.
“And what about you?” you ask back, table turned to grant you some proverbial breathing room. “Hongjoong sure made it seem like this was the sort of thing you do often.”
“Hongjoong is terrible at keeping his mouth shut, that much is for sure,” Wooyoung chuckles, then reaching forward with one hand and finding the hem of your dress — pressed up the length of your thigh only slightly due to his own having your legs agape. “But he is right, I do like older women.”
“So you just hit on every stylist that comes into contact with you?” you laugh, trying to ignore the burning sensation of his fingers playing with the cloth on your thigh, or the way that his eyes are smoldering and locked onto you.
“No, of course not, I'd have had a reputation that you'd have heard of by now if that were the case.”
That was true.
“So no, hitting on the stylist isn't a first for me, if you must know,” he adds coyly, hand now slowly sliding up and against your bare skin. You freeze against his touch. Is this really happening? Here? Now?
��I play with a lot of them for fun, and they play with me, but rarely does it leave the fitting room.”
You swallow hard, and when he shifts again suddenly you aren't prepared — his words, his touch, it's all too distracting for when the press against you comes — breath hitching in your throat for a split second before biting your lip in an attempt to pull the involuntary reaction back.
Too late, though.
Wooyoung looks down, seeing the positioning of his leg between your own and finally makes the connection with a devilish grin — looking up at you from through eyelashes, he hums in response, hand that had once begun a journey up your leg now stilled at the outer side, fingers playfully dipping into the elastic of your panties as if having a plan in mind all along.
“Oh, I see,” he sing-songs at you, deliberately pushing up and into you for the first time, and it certainly makes the difference — your head falling back against the steel lightly. “You know it's funny, I genuinely did not mean to do that.”
“Don't laugh,” you sigh out, now on your last leg of having the composure to not give in to him, and to yourself. “I'm not going to have sex with you, I don't have sex with clientele.”
Humming again, the man begins a steady, slow pace of flexing his thigh up and against you, hand coming around to feel what he can of you that isn't taken up by the space of his leg, and with his fingertip only finding slick wetness that water doesn't have, he smiles again.
“Fine,” he responds with a tone that's only just above a whisper. “But I can still make you come.”
“Shut up,” you whimper out, knowing that your resolve is falling away with every second that you're near him and even faster with every word that he says. You say that you won't fuck him, but truth be told: you're not completely convinced of it yourself. “I—, I—“ you attempt to say, always cut off by the way he feels against you, and even distracted by the lone finger that gently rubs at you from the side as best as he can.
You open your eyes, an attempt to come back down to earth from how quickly you're giving yourself up to this man, but your eyes immediately drop to catch the protrusion in his sweatpants — still wet and fabric clinging to the girth, you swallow hard and bring your eyes back up fast.
That knowledge was the last thing you needed if you were to make any sort of strong attempt not to have sex with him.
“Like what you see?” Wooyoung says playfully, a nod to the silly line often heard in comedies or pornography.
Unfortunately, you do.
You feel him shifting again, having to mull up the braves to allow your eyes to fall back down that way to find out what it was he was up to, and once the courage is mustered, you grant it to yourself.
It was a mistake.
“God,” is all you whisper out at the sight — Wooyoung's beautiful hand wrapped loosely around himself, lazily stroking in time with the ministrations of his leg up and against you, and it's all just a little bit too much.
“Watch,” he says, this time no jest in his voice and the pace of his thigh picking up just slightly. “You don't want to watch me?”
In the moment, you think that you would literally not ever want to watch anything other than that ever again.
Eyes coming back down, first to meet his own — half-lidded and mouth slightly parted, a beautiful sight before you, the visual of him palming over himself for your viewing pleasure — getting off on nothing else but the sight of you riding his leg.
The visual serves to be more stimulating than you'd have liked to admit, feeling the familiar bubbling in your abdomen, you try to find something that you can brace your hands on to give yourself more leverage — since the both of you are now resigned to letting this moment play out — and Wooyoung catches on quickly, choking out a “use me,” between steady, rhythmic pumps of his fist along himself.
You lean forward, hands on his shoulders again — now able to feel him work himself beneath you as you rut against his leg and if you weren't already so worked up, you might have been embarrassed about how quickly your orgasm approaches you.
“W��Wooyoung, I—“
“Good, good girl,” he groans, rhythm of his arm beginning to give out at the implications of your orgasm fast approaching, but it's the next words that truly wreck you. More than you may have ever anticipated outside of that singular moment in time.
“Use me.”
And it breaks you. Orgasm washing over you — it's not particularly hard or overwhelming, the circumstances not exactly granting themselves to having an earth shattering sexual experience, but Wooyoung follows you shortly after — high pitched whine escaping him as his eyes screw shut, ropes of cum painting his fisted fingers as he gently finishes himself just next to you.
Taking his messy hand from himself and into your own, you bring it up and to your lips, the man before you catching on quickly despite a hazy come down and shortened breath; two of his fingers part your lips and press inside shallowly at first, then slightly deeper as he feels the way that your tongue wraps around him to clean his cum from them.
All the while with unbroken eye contact, when Wooyoung finishes imagining the way that your mouth would feel around his cock, he snorts, pulling his hand from you and grinning.
“Nah,” he begins, gently attempting to dislodge himself from between your legs. “You're definitely going to fuck me.”
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With two weeks down after that late night stuck in the rain, without so much as a single sly comment about the goings on of that evening, you resign yourself to the understanding that he had gotten the interest out of his system.
And you suppose now, with the imminent danger of potentially going where you've never gone before and crossing that line, you can admit to yourself that deep down, you're a little disappointed in that fact. He had made quite the compelling case, after all.
And a beautiful cock, at that.
You do, however, find it charming that his behavior never really changes towards you. Even in spite of the bizarre intimacy that comes with watching the other come without having ever so much as shared a kiss, Wooyoung plops himself into your stylist chair just as he always has — hair a mess and tank top a bit too loose for your liking given your coming to terms with not ever having sex with him, you allow yourself one good look across the expanse of skin he's happy to show, and even with knowing that he sit in the reflection watching your eyes rake over him with a slight curl of his lip, you still can't help yourself.
Besides, what's one more good look? It's not the only part of him you've seen.
Tapping on his phone as you begin brushing into his hair from behind, Wooyoung asks you how you are today, just as normal. No suspicious tone, seemingly no ulterior motive.
“The same as always, how are you?” you respond, still tugging at the strands.
“Better now that I get to see my work wife,” he quickly responds, as if the entire premise of the conversation had simply been a set up for him to lay this one on you.
And if his intent was to trip you up, you were ashamed at how well it worked, freezing up instantly just before shaking it loose and carrying on. “Work wife? Is it okay that you joke like that?”
“Why not?” Wooyoung chuckles, looking up at you through the reflection of the mirror in front. “Also, your legs look crazy in those jeans.”
Heat rushing to your face, not wanting to look to either side at whether or not another stylist or member is listening in on the conversation, you lean down toward him and rush to a whisper. “Okay you definitely can't say that!”
“Of course not,” Wooyoung whispers back, turning his head just an inch to nearly meet your skin with his mouth. “Let me see you.”
Instantaneously, you pull back from him — back into working position and fight back the embarrassment of what's taking place. Wooyoung only grins again, looking back down to his phone and not pushing the topic any further.
When the guys begin exiting the room one by one to begin shooting, Wooyoung exits last, but not before stuffing his hand into the back pocket of your pants and maintaining a knowing eye contact with you for far too long.
You want to think that he left something in your pocket, but knowing him, just wanting to touch your ass isn't a possibility you can completely write off.
When the rest of the staff leave besides the other stylists, you manage to pull away just enough to check your pocket, feeling the presence of a small slip of paper — clearly what Wooyoung had intended on you finding, with a phone number scribbled on it. Nothing else.
Sure, you wish to be stronger than to give into the allure of the sexy, younger guy that you work with, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said that you weren't delighted at the prospect that he had not, in fact, lost interest just yet.
>you: hey, it's me.
It's all you send. Playing it cool and not at all desperate being paramount in this exchange now in order to maintain your dignity.
After all, you said you wouldn't have sex with him and now here you are, texting him knowing fully well that that is precisely what he's after. Perhaps you just needed a push in the right direction, but not without being able to feign a lack of interest, first.
It's only fifteen minutes later that he responds, and given you know they're recording, you expected it to be longer.
>big trouble: who is this? who is me?
You roll your eyes, but immediately move to reply.
>you: you know who, the woman whose ass you just groped so that I would contact you.
The signal of his typing pops up just as quickly.
>big trouble: you'll have to be more specific :p
He begins typing again.
>big trouble: kidding, what do you have me saved as in your phone? don't use my name!!
>you: oh darn I actually had it saved as group name plus full name and flashed it around when you replied, is that going to be a problem?
You become hyper aware of how you're smiling at your phone in the presence of other people, you try to bite it back as to not raise any awareness, but relatively unsuccessful in doing so.
He is so fucking charming, and fuck if you didn't enjoy his company.
A few more minutes pass before he begins typing again, close to ten when a response finally comes through.
>big trouble: sorry replies are gonna be spotty until we get out of here. let me see you.
You realize now, upon him saying it to you again — that you're not even entirely sure of what he means by that. See you: naked? Date? Outside of here? Too many options to just assume, but you also hate to ask — stomach bubbling with anxiety at the prospect of what it could mean, you realize that even you have to figure out just what, exactly, your intentions are with this guy.
But if you want to know something, all you can do is ask.
>you: what do you mean “see me”
Immediate typing again.
>big trouble: not at work, preferably with your legs over my shoulders and my face buried in your pussy.
Locking your phone you immediately press it face down and into the couch cushion next to you. Inhaling deeply, you close your eyes for a second to recollect yourself; steady breathing, and desperately trying to ignore the ache growing between your legs from just a single line of text.
You feel your phone vibrate again and can't even be sure you're ready to read whatever insane thing he's sent next, but suppose you can't just leave him on read. Not on that note.
Not when you're particularly interested in the proposition yourself.
Slowly picking your cell back up, carefully looking around to make sure no one can spy in — now not necessarily about it being who you're texting but generally speaking sexting is frowned upon in professional settings — you illuminate the screen to confirm that the incoming message is indeed, from him.
You open it.
>big trouble: i'm flexible though, actually hope you are too <3
Sick with how you can hear his tongue in cheek tone even through text, you get it together enough to finally begin typing out a response — not entirely sure what to say, given you don't necessarily want to agree to doing anything with the man just yet, and especially not like this.
>you: is that a good idea?
With some time having passed since his reply, you know that he's probably off working again — setting your phone down you exhale heavily, leaning your head back against the couch.
But all you can think about is Wooyoung's sandwiched between your thighs.
The buzzing from your phone brings you back, and you open it in more of a hurry than maybe you would have liked — much too eager to find the next insane thing that the man has to say to you.
>big trouble: oh no it definitely isn't
>big trouble: that's kind of the fun of it though
>big trouble: get into a little trouble with me, but i'll make it worth your time if you let me
You don't doubt him for even a second. Another text comes in.
>big trouble: I think you want to play with me, like a little bit
In the moment, the only thing that you can offer in response is that you'll think about it, still not completely willing to give yourself up to the desire of having him, or letting him have you — an obvious conquest of sorts on his end, of which he seemingly stacks up notches on his bed post — but you need time to decide if you're willing to make peace with being just that in exchange for getting what it is that you want from him, anyways.
Mutually beneficial? Absolutely. You just have to decide if the juice is worth the squeeze.
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Two days out from wrapping filming, backstage is hectic — corridors lined with people running back and forth, darting in and out of rooms and racks of clothing and shoes serving as a make shift obstacle course everywhere you go, it's nothing you're not used to, and despite working for ATEEZ as a group, in ways you found yourself assuming the position as Wooyoung's handler in particular — occasionally Hongjoong's as well, enjoying his quips and stories as sort of an old soul in the body of a young man who took comfort in placing himself in otherwise awkward scenarios between you and the man you were almost definitely going to have sex with — you could only assume that Hongjoong had caught wind, and not because Wooyoung told him, but because he was quick on the uptake.
And he found it humorous.
Winding through the halls pushing the both of them out and ahead of you towards where they need to go, it's Hongjoong first who greets the senior idol exiting their dressing room to the left, then Wooyoung, and then you.
But you know them already.
One of the idols of the groups that you already get on with quite well, it's a friendly greeting, and you certainly can feel Wooyoung watching it all too intently — as if trying to poke a hole in a story once told to him in fabrication.
Saying your goodbyes, the three of you push forward again, not long before reaching just back stage and to your destination. You pull Hongjoong first, doing some last minute touches on his hair and eye makeup before sending him on his way, then Wooyoung — pouting like a baby as you press fingers into the sides of his hair that had fallen and now needed retouching.
“Oh geez, what?” you huff out quietly, thankful for the goings on around you that no one would hear you even if any one had time to stop and eavesdrop on the conversation.
“You two were cozy, huh?” he says — playfully, but you think it might be a ruse.
Wiping excess hair wax from his temple and shoving a clip into your mouth due to lack of hands, you look him dead in the eyes. “Wooyoung, I haven't slept with him, oh my God—“ you exasperate, slicking more product into his head, “and even if I had, none of your business.”
You watch as his eyes narrow, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth at your bitter words and begins to curl his lips into a smile just before telling him that he's finished and to go do his job.
“I know,” he says under his breath, leaning forward momentarily. “Was just hoping to hear the story if there was one.”
It's sinister in tone, like he's already getting off a little on the prospect of hearing about you getting fucked by another man, and the more you think of it in that split second, the less you would even be surprised if that had been the case. But Wooyoung continues to look at you as he steps backwards and towards where it is he needs to go — a display of power, in ways.
You're not sure you could run this guy off if you tried.
Hours later into the evening and close to midnight, you just about finish packing up your things, placing bags by the door next to all of the other stylists and managers items also eager and ready to head off and get rest before the last day of filming before you catch from the corner of your eye — phone laid out on the table and face up, illuminated in the dim lighting of a room soon to no longer be occupied for the day. Stretching your arm out and reaching towards it, almost immediately you recognize the length of name on the screen that alerts you of who it is that's contacting you.
You glance around yourself, just to be sure.
>big trouble: let me see you tonight.
Stomach jumping into your chest, to say yes to him is a big step. You're aware that at any point in time you can rescind said yes, but all the same — even just the logistics of getting him into your place to begin with comes with it's own set of worries and challenges and truth be told; you hadn't put any thought into such a plan.
But you still kind of wanted to.
>you: how?
He begins typing just as quickly as your response sends.
>big trouble: i'll take my managers car, just say yes if it's yes don't worry about the rest.
Realistically you know that it's him on the line. Sure, it wouldn't look great for you as a freelancer if it started getting around that you take home men from work, but not nearly the same career expectations are in place. You take a second to mull it over before attempting to respond. He sends another text through in the meantime.
>big trouble: please if I have to see you in those jeans again and not suffocate in your cunt I think i'll fucking die.
You appreciate his eagerness, as does the throb between your legs in anticipation. He sure knows how to talk to a lady.
And despite the reluctance, you give in, sending over your address in the next text, along with the demand that if he not be there by 12:30am to not bother showing up at all, it's a long work day the next one, after all.
An immediate reply again, you pull your bags onto your arms and head out of the doorway before reading his response.
>big trouble: I have every intention of putting you to sleep.
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When 12:18am ticks on the oven clock in your kitchen, one glass of wine down in anticipation and an attempt to calm your nerves, you start to assume that he's not coming. Perhaps he had come to his senses, or got held up and wasn't able to make it.
But just as suddenly as the thought comes to you, a buzzing on your door sounds, and your heart drops to your stomach — bubbling in anxiety and the possibility of what's going to happen now. Now that the both of you will be properly alone. Now that...he's here, and with hours to spare.
Setting the glass down onto the table, you clear your throat and make your way towards the door, checking the peep hole despite knowing precisely who it is that you will find — it's charming, in a way: Wooyoung standing there in baseball cap and mask, heavily bundled in an attempt to not be found out on his naughty little rendezvous. He's brave, you gotta give it to him.
Opening the door slowly, Wooyoung slips in, pulling both adornments from his head before you're even able to close the door completely, then moving to kick his shoes off. He looks at you, shrugging his jacket off and placing it onto the rack just next to him.
“I can't believe you're still wearing those fucking jeans.”
And as taken aback as you are by it being the first words to leave his mouth upon entering your apartment, more than that, you're taken by being immediately pushed back and towards the couch — his eyes flat and narrow and completely darkened by lust as your behind eventually finds the cushion and Wooyoung immediately falls to his knees between your legs.
Pulling himself up and beginning to grapple with the button and zipper of your jeans, he leans up and finally kisses you — for the first time, you're reminded again — plush, hot lips messily pressing into your own, it's evident just in that contact alone how much he's been wanting this moment, greedy and quick and not at all making a point of taking his time before pulling away to loosen the fabric from your legs and toss it elsewhere on the floor beside him.
Wooyoung comes back up, kissing you again and just as hungrily as before — feeling his fingers dip into the elastic hip of your panties, before once again pulling back to release those of you as well.
He breaks the cycle then, bringing up the flat of his fingers against your pussy to feel the heat radiating off of your skin before looking up at you and resuming said cycle — pressing his mouth hard against yours again, trailing down the corner and along your jaw — teeth grazing lightly against the skin as the tip of his middle finger gently dips between your folds to tease at you. Breath hitching in your throat at the contact, you feel him grin into your skin.
“W—Wooyoung,” you choke out, intensity of the situation all consuming and somehow more heavy set than you had even expected.
“What?”
But you forget what it was you were even planning on saying once his finger makes proper contact with your clit — perhaps it was nothing, just an airy exasperation of his name altogether, but just as quickly as everything else the man between your legs pulls from you and pulls you down by the legs, ass edging on the side of the sofa and propping your legs up on his shoulders just as he had said he would — wasting no time thereafter going to work on you.
And you didn't expect him to be lying about what he would or wouldn't do if given the opportunity, but his eagerness right then and there — tongue pressing hard circles into your clit just before applying ample suction against you with his lips, not unwilling to make a mess of himself in the process and, from what you can tell, all the more delighted in doing so as his face glistens with each time that he pulls away to reposition — with eyes screwed shut and one arm tossed over your face in an attempt to stay grounded, the other reaches down, finding its way along the top of his head, fingers curling into hair that only hours earlier you were neatly decorating and clipping into place — hair now entangled and tightly gripped as Wooyoung makes alarmingly quick work of your body from your living room floor.
Bringing a hand up, he delicately presses one finger in, finding little resistance, and adds a second upon his following drive into you. Hand pumping into you at a slow, almost excruciating pace, Wooyoung focuses all of the attention on sucking you harder, faster with the way that your breaths pick up and become weaker, whines higher pitched than before — and if you weren't close before, the additional stimulation gets you climbing that peak all that much faster, gripping hard into his hair as you whimper out his name again, this time far more broken than the time previously.
But like a good man, he doesn't stop — bringing his eyes up to watch as you fall apart above him, you open your eyes only briefly to take in the sight, his eyes smiling back at you with the pretty little adornment of the beauty mark just beneath one.
You cuss, grinding hard down and against his mouth, and come undone against him just like that. Wooyoung sucks you through your orgasm, shallowly pressing fingers into you before removing them altogether as your high dissipates. Chest heaving, you lie in the afterglow of your peak, eyes still closed from exhaustion in the aftermath.
Wooyoung chuckles from between your legs. Cracking open your eyes, you find him settled back and on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looks at you with unbridled satisfaction.
“I've been dying to do that,” he finally says, leaning forward and snaking the palms of his hands up your bare thighs, thumbs catching on the hem of your shirt and pressing upwards with insistence that you allow him to remove it. You grant him the access, pulling your back off of the couch long enough for him to pull the fabric up and over your head and watching as he happily tosses it elsewhere before leaning down and pressing his mouth against your own again.
The kiss is brief though, before a man on a mission makes his way back down from where he came but with stops along the journey — nimble hands reaching around the back of you and working to remove your bra — before you even have a moment to settle, plump, warm lips and tongue press into your now exposed flesh and the feeling of him; so encompassing and overwhelming has you squirming in desire beneath him as if you hadn't just come already.
“I need you,” he whispers into your skin, tongue circling your nipple between commentary. “Please, I need to feel you so bad, you drive me crazy.”
You're not sure what it is, the unabashed neediness or just the fact that it's him or maybe even the combination of the two — a man so young and famous and sexy that he could have anyone he desired and yet right now, in this moment, he makes you feel as though the only person or thing he's ever desired so badly in his life...is you.
It's as if the burning throb of arousal never even left you.
“Noona, please.”
It wasn't typically something that did it for you, and in fact, you never understood why it really 'did it' for anyone — but you had to be honest, it was working for you now.
Needy whining, begging, spilling from Wooyoung as his mouth lingers across the expanse of exposed skin. You ask him to take his shirt off and he follows through immediately, only to come back up to pick up where he had left off, but the feeling of his own hot skin against your own only serving to light you up even further.
“Switch places,” you whisper to him, and he follows order without question, pulling up quickly and allowing you space between his legs. Palms grazing over the top of his thighs, you smile up at him at the sight before you. “Same sweats as that one night?”
“Coincidence,” he answers, voice already slightly broken at the implications of what's to come, so you waste no time gripping into the waistband of his pants and pulling down his legs, freeing him and finally becoming more acquainted with what it was that had your interest really piqued since that night only a couple of weeks prior.
“Don't seem so tough now, you know,” you mock, taking his length into your hand and lazily pumping him, his eyes glued to the way you make contact on him.
“Wait until I get you in the bedroom,” he answers, tone lower and less broken now — as if snapping back to reality to assert some form of dominance that had never really had a place in the interaction prior.
You inch forward, taking him into your mouth shallowly, tongue wrapping circles along the tip as he melts into your mouth — both hands coming forward to hold onto your hair. He's not rough, and not assuming the pace, but with every press down of your mouth along him you take him deeper and deeper, his mouth dropping open just that much more at the feeling of your warmth along his shaft.
“Feel so good, you feel so good,” he chants under his breath as you bob along him — a steady rhythm but not so fast with intent to get him there, Wooyoung's head falls back to take in the feeling. “That's it baby, you take it so well.”
The praise has your pussy throbbing all over again, pace on his cock quickening unbeknownst to you just at the prospect of what other filthy things will fall from those beautiful lips.
So, you play along.
Pulling off of him briefly and replacing the sensation with your hand, you look up at him, quickly fisting him and occasionally licking a circle around the tip. “Yeah? That why you like older women? Like the experience?”
Wooyoung groans at the words as if you accidentally stumbled upon some kink that he hadn't made you all that privy to to begin with, hips bucking up into your hand as his eyebrows furrow, “Yeah, know your way around a cock, don't you?”
“I do,” you answer, stuffing him back into your mouth without warning and taking him down a few times just to listen to him groan deeply at the sight and sensation before pulling back up. “Hoping I fucked that guy back there just so you could be sure?”
“Little bit,” he chuckles through a whine as you continue to jerk him off along side the conversation. “Kinda like hearing about it, too.”
“Nasty boy,” you tease in reply, licking a stripe up his shaft before circling around the head of his cock again and watching the way his eyes roll back.
But just as suddenly, Wooyoung snaps forward, pulling your hand off of him and standing up to pull you with him towards the bedroom. “This one?” he asks, simultaneously shoving you inside of it as if the answer you provided wouldn't have matter to begin with, but you assure him that it is, in fact, the correct room as he continues pulling you towards the bed — turning to lie himself on it first before reaching for your wrist and pulling you down to straddle his hips.
You assume the position, grinding gently against his length as he brings you into a sloppy kiss again, you pull off of him not long thereafter, hands flat against his chest as you slide against him.
“All this talk just so I can ride you, eh? Lazy boy,” you say with the same teasing voice as before.
But Wooyoung shakes his head, hands quickly making their way up the length of your thighs and settling on your waist as you hover above his aching cock.
“I just have to see you ride my cock, please, I'll fuck you stupid afterwards, I'll have you begging for it, baby—“ he pleads, one hand slipping down between the two of you to align himself with your entrance, other hand gently pulling you down onto his shaft as he continues on. “—Wanted me to fill you up that night, but I'll do it tonight instead.”
It's an unfortunate giveaway the way his words have such an affect on you, already nearly fully seated on him when the nasty implications of the plans he has for you that evening drop from his sinful lips — walls clenching hard around him, so much so that he groans at the feeling as you sink down to fully take him in. Wooyoung's fingers dig into the skin of your hips as you gently begin to rock against him, thick girth of him tugging at you in all of the ways that you knew it would when you saw it — so full and stretched that even the slightest movement pulls at your clit as you ride him ever so delicately. You whimper shortly thereafter at the feeling he provides you, your nails now digging into the skin of his chest as he watches the space between the both of your hips — watching how your cunt struggles to accommodate his size and yet does so regardless, he allows his head to fall back against the mattress, taking in the feeling of the moment as you bite back your pathetic, flustered, sounds.
“Feel so good, baby,” he finally says, rubbing your thighs as you attempt to ride him to any useful degree. “Is it what you wanted? When you thought about it, is it better?” he adds, pressing his hips up ever so slightly to meet your own as you drop down onto him, a louder hiss dropping from you at the added friction.
“Awww,” he coos teasingly as he watches the way you struggle on top of him. “Mommy's good at talking but not so good at taking it, huh?”
You're not proud of the way that sentence goes straight to your pooling arousal.
And just as quickly, Wooyoung pulls you off of him to switch you places, pressing your back to the mattress as he adjusts himself between your legs.
“I can come in you?” he asks suddenly, and it feels almost random, as if breaking scene in a film. So sudden that you almost don't catch it, but coming back to reality, you nod.
“Uh, y—yeah.”
“Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” he replies, leaning back down and pressing his chest into your own to kiss you — head of his cock teasingly dangling just against your pussy and occasionally grazing your sensitive clit, you press your hips up and into him in an attempt to make the contact that you want, Wooyoung chuckling devilishly against the skin of your chin and neck as you struggle to achieve what you set out for.
“Not as good at taking my cock as I thought you'd be,” he playfully pouts, lips attaching into the skin just at the juncture of your neck and shoulder to suck red and purple blotches into it. “But mommy, you were supposed to be so good.”
The tone in which the words drop from his lips, quite evidently mocking, playful, toying with you and the idea of the age play of it all. You knew that this was part of it for him, you had been warned.
But you didn't know it was going to do it for you, in addition.
“Guess we have to try again,” he whispers, lips trailing up a bit higher and just under your ear. “Probably better off if I'm in control, huh?”
With that, Wooyoung begins his slow drive into you once again — for a man that talks so much about your inability to take him, and being in control, you find his attention to your comfort almost surprising — not taking it quickly and giving you ample time to adjust to the intrusion even in spite of it not being the first time that night that you had taken him, once bottomed out, he settles for a few moments; kissing and sucking along your neck, along with babbling words of affirmation and encouragement all the while before pulling his hips back and slowly pressing forward once again.
The fullness of him is almost stifling, though — and paired with the fact that he won't shut the fuck up through it.
Five or six more delicate drives into you and Wooyoung begins to settle into a more fluid pace, rocking his hips against your own with hard impact but not entirely quick, every push of his cock into you more brutal than the last as he hovers above you and watches the way your face contorts with glee.
“Look at you, so good,” he groans in between snaps of his hips, hands flat against the mattress and on either side of your head to watch the way your cunt takes him. “Aww, I was wrong, you take my cock so well, I knew you would.”
Clenching hard around him with praise, your hands clasp around his arms, nails digging into the tan, hot skin with every drive of himself against you — the sound of wet skin against skin reverberating through your bedroom, and more than that, the sight of Wooyoung's bottom lip sucked up and between his teeth — arms and chest flexing with every movement of his hips.
The familiar feeling of your impending orgasm felt building once again at a particularly hard thrust from him, you cry out, catching his attention. Wooyoung slows, not entirely sure of how to take the sound, but is just as quickly met with your babbling and begging of him not to stop, to which he grins and resumes his rough pace into you.
Leaning down and wrapping an arm up and under your shoulder for more leverage to pull your body down and against him, chest to chest like this, Wooyoung continues his previous ministrations on your skin with his mouth, nipping and sucking at the skin of your neck, collar bones, jaw and mouth as he fucks hard into you — harder now with the positioning, you cry out again and louder even, much to his delight.
“Fuck, Wooyoung—“ you whisper against his mouth, feeling your orgasm threatening in the not so distant future.
“Yeah baby?” he coos back, so gentle in tone and completely opposing the brutality of the way he's fucking you. “Gonna come? Gonna come for me? Just from my cock, nothing else?”
You nod wildly, the way he's talking to you bringing you to the edge even faster — muscles tightening in your abdomen and losing the ability to verbally communicate to much extent at all.
“Good, good, you're so good,” he babbles into your skin, grip on your shoulder tightening even more. “Love it when you say my name, God you're so perfect.”
You whine, pulling forward to press your mouth into his shoulder just in front of you.
“Want me to come inside of you now? Make you mine? You know I want to so bad, want to fill you up so bad.”
Your insides twist at the way he's nearly begging to, despite already having been given the go ahead to do so. All a part of the game, you figure.
It's working, though.
You nod again, but Wooyoung brings his free hand over and to your clit, taking it between his fingers and thumb to force you into eye contact with him.
“Gotta say it, noona, can you say it for me?”
Your fingers dig into him harder, you're reaching inevitability much faster than you had originally intended with the way that he's talking to you, and the anticipation of just what it is he'll say next.
You knew he was gonna be a wild ride, but you didn't anticipate him to be this much of a freak.
“God, noona, please say it, please noona say you want me to come in you, I want to so bad.”
“Wooyoung, Jesus, I'm gonna—“
But he stills, cock buried deep inside of you as you whine at the loss of your incoming peak, shocked at the fact that he would do it.
You're not proud of your next step, either.
“Wooyoung, please, please, don't stop—“ you beg, trying to fuck yourself onto him in an attempt to reach your orgasm, and he does start a drive into you again, albeit much more delicate and less hearty than previous.
“Wow, so whiny,” he chides against your ear, shallowly thrusting into your soaking wet cunt with no intention behind it at all. “I'll give you what you want noona — thick, young, cock to come around, yeah?” he whispers, the words sending chills down your spine paired with the way that the tip of his length dips in and out of you teasingly.
“That what you want?” he whispers again.
“Yes,” you whine in response.
“Want me to come in you too, don't you?” he adds, nose nuzzling into the side of your face as he begins a proper push of his length back inside of you. “Fill you up? Pump a nice, hot load into your tight little cunt?”
It's the first time in the night that his dirty talk had been so lewd, so filthy. Slow drive of his cock back into you and even with the tiniest friction that it provides, just the words alone have you building back up to that place that only moments ago he had stripped from you just as quickly.
You'll do and say anything, now.
“Yes, Wooyoung, please,” you whisper, his hips snapping into you two, three times at the words. “Please daddy—“
The both of you stop as a point of both shock and confusion, neither expecting the word dropping out so suddenly, and not one typically on your repertoire, but Wooyoung seems to take it happily and in stride with an accompanying small giggle, quickly falling into the role that is required of him and driving hard against your hips at the pace once lost all over again — teeth baring against your cheek as he does so.
“Daddy? Well I wasn't planning on it but if you want it so bad,” Wooyoung grits out, reaching down with one hand and pulling one of your legs up and out. “I can fuck a baby into you, too. That why you want me to fill you up so bad? Want me to give you one?”
“Oh my God, Wooyoung, I—“ you groan, nails digging so hard into his skin that you fear you may actually hurt him, muscles in your abdomen tightening so suddenly, so hardly that it takes you by surprise — thick cock still pounding hard into you at an even better angle now, and Wooyoung begins kissing against your skin again.
“Feel so good around me, God, noona, come for me baby, milk me dry, wanna feel you come around my dick.”
muscles locking up, sound catching in your throat, your orgasm rips through your body with little more warning and nearly silently — stilling beneath the man as he continues to fuck you through your high, chasing his own and praising you through it as you do.
“Gonna come baby,” he groans at the impending orgasm of his own. Pulling up and off of you slightly he looks back down between the two of you before meeting your fucked out gaze again and screwing his own eyes shut. “Fuck, noona, fuck you full of me, God I'll ruin this pussy, yeah?”
Two, three more drives into you, Wooyoung buries his cock deep before stilling, head dropping as he growls through his release into you — gentle, shallow thrusts accompanying him as he begins to pull himself out of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ he whispers as he finally expels his body from yours completely at the feeling of the overstimulation on his dick, flopping over onto the side of you and clenching his eyes shut for a moment as he attempts to steady his breathing in the aftermath.
Even having had more time to settle than him, you're not that much better off.
Silence takes the room beyond heavy breathing, you look over to take in the sight of the light sheen of sweat adorning the man's beautiful body, unsure if you'll ever even get the chance to enjoy this again — if you were to want to, that is. Wooyoung cards his fingers through black and gold hair, pulling most off of his slick forehead before turning to you to meet your gaze. Somewhat embarrassed upon having been caught looking at him, he only smiles gently, as if to tell you that it's okay. That the two of you are past such silly formalities, as it were.
“Hey,” you whisper, searching for his stray hand among the crumpled sheets beneath you.
“Yeah?”
“You're kind of a sicko, you know that?”
Wooyoung laughs, so much so and with such a dry throat that it sends him into a coughing fit as a result. You reach for a bottled water that you have on your nightstand and hand it to him for him to lubricate with, clearing his throat and handing the bottle back to you before attempting to respond to such accusations.
“Maybe so,” he finally says. “But you sure liked it. What's that say about you?”
“Who knows,” you reply, staring at the ceiling as if soul searching for the answers to such questions. “Maybe we're just particularly, disgustingly matched.”
“Maybe so.” Wooyoung nods, adjusting comfortably into the bed beneath him.
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On the last day of filming, everything carries on as normal.
You're not entirely sure what story Wooyoung told the others as to why he never came home last night — having slept the rest of the night with you and the two of you having to devise quite the plan to leave from the same place and arrive to the same place without anyone being in on the pick up, but you figure that you manage with no bizarre or questioning looks upon your entry — and Wooyoung already seated and waiting, ready for you to begin to get to work on him.
As he ticks away on his phone, you lean down towards his head questioningly.
“Did you use my shampoo?”
“What was I supposed to use?”
“Probably not the thing that smells like me?”
You watch in the reflection as he stops for a moment to mull the concept over, quite evidently having not thought about it prior to this moment, only to shrug and go back to typing on his phone.
After shooting wraps and everyone is saying their goodbyes, you thank the members and their staff for the warm welcoming and all of their help to make sure that the work environment was comfortable and smooth for you. For Hongjoong and Wooyoung especially — who you worked with most closely — the two hug you, sending you on your way, but not before Hongjoong makes some snide comment about finally being able to escape Wooyoung.
It was true, that you would finally escape the grip of that man, however, wanting to escape? You weren't so sure.
Gently tossing your belongings into the back of a taxi, you climb in and pull your seatbelt over you, reaching towards your purse and pulling out your phone to see what your next schedule would be for the upcoming weeks, only to find a text on your phone that had come in hours prior.
>big trouble: let me see you again (not just sex way)
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ hope you enjoyed! please check out my navigation for more (´。• ᵕ •。`)
—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.
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