#tenth spirit

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Alright, I'll say it: Jack Harkness and the Doctor's relationship is possibly the most fleshed out/complicated dynamic in Doctor Who and that is INCLUDING the master/doctor relationship. Seriously, think about it:

the fact that when they meet jack is presented as sleazy con man and the doctor makes him brave- makes him good

but that they are both willing to die for rose as long as she is safe

and then she comes back and dooms them both to live (even though jack has already died for her and the doctor WILL die for her)

(ninerosejack is canon and you cannot convince me otherwise)

but then the doctor sees jack as immortal as someone he COULD spend the rest of his life with

and instead of embracing it like you'd think he would because he is so wrecked by people leaving him/being left by him the doctor RUNS bc the Doctor is so scared of jack of what he means of what he is

jack ends up abandoned in dalek dust goes back in time to find the doctor suffers a hundred years alone/being tortured but STILL WAITS

(screw amy being the girl who waited or rory being the boy who waited- Jack Harkness is the boy who waited and he did it FIRST)

Jack finds out that he was abandoned. that the man that he loves HATES the sight of him. that the doctor would rather have a genocidal murderer than have him

and so Jack gets the hell out of dodge to go to a man who DOES love him

and don't get me wrong Jack loves Ianto and Jack DOES remember Ianto until he dies as the Face of Boe don't forget that (protecting Novice Hame from the virus as he couldn't Ianto

BUT AFTER EVERYTHING THE DOCTOR HAS DONE TO JACK JACK STILL LOVES THEM

Jack still considers five billion years cursed to never die to be BETTER than the alternative: dying a young time-agent-turned-con-man

Jack has more reason than any other companion save maybe Amy to hate the Doctor & yet spends 20 years in jail to rescue Thirteen still LOVES HER

AND AFTER FIVE BILLION YEARS HE ORGANIZES THAT FIRST MEETING ON SATELLITE FIVE HE ORGANIZES 9/ROSE'S FIRST DATE

jack harkness is a living ghost a reminder of the doctor's failures a physical fixed point and yet he still loves the girl who cursed him and the time lord that turned him into the kind of person that would give his dying breaths to protect the last of humanity in a dying city and tell the doctor that he is not alone

because fuck it, YANA was a warning but also a reminder a final gift

jack had been there all along, a ghost an echo a PROMISE

there is no more human character than jack harkness

[g1ngerbeer]

created by love & unmade by it

[bietrofastimoff23]

✨they're besties ✨

I just know that their first meeting was supposed to end in a fight, but Tai Lung saw how this loser couldn't use his own breath fire, and he was like, "ha-ha. well, this funny guy is my bff now ."

No, he didn't ask for Scott's opinion. He decided it for the two of them.

Tai Lung before and during a conversation with Scott:

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Dreamborn Muse

"Her voice is insight, piercing and true." —Ixidor, reality sculptor

Artist: Kev Walker TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

[thequeeninyellowlace]

I am at a conference, and the woman next to me was waving to get the attention of her colleague, who she was saving a seat for. She yelled, “Over here, Alonzo!”

And all I could think was:

[dontbotherwiththepronunciation]

Triggered by a conversation between mutuals that I wasn't able to partake in because I read it when it was already over but it still left me with a feeling of wanting to talk.

Many of my recent issues with this series and some of the characters in it come from coming to terms with the fact that people like me were never the intended demographic for it and thus many of my expectations and beliefs are unrealistic. I'm very much aware that every person who ever reads a text will understand it differently based on their experiences and emotions, we can see the most clear examples of it when it comes to the eternal debates on whether Jeyne & Sansa really bullied Arya or whether Catelyn's treatment of Jon should be considered abuse, but at least in my case the projection is based more on political situations that have strongly affected me and my loved ones and that are difficult to talk about in the open without feeling like my concerns are exaggerated and are also ruining other people's fun.

This is a fun series that has given my solace written by a white usan democrat who writes orientalist tropes and gives no real personality to any of his fully-canon-not-up-to-interpretation characters of colour and uses a half assed excuse to not have any of the main characters be a not-up-to-interpretation character of colour.

An example that is lighthearted and makes me chuckle could be my perception of the Vale. To me Mya Stone wears heavy colourful ponchos while Myranda wears a sanq'apa, Domeric Bolton played not only the harp but also the charango, maté is a common drink, and at least some of Sweetrobyn's lacking health comes from soroche. None of this is contradictory to the canon but I know that if I were to meet grrm and tell him of these concepts, he would probably think I'm on crack but would smile in false sympathy while Liiiiiiindaaaaaaaaa (and some readers, fans and tumblerinas) would just straight up tell me to go read something from my shithole country instead of tarnishing the beautiful and perfect European-based world of ice and fire./sar

And I am aware that the ironborn are perceived by most and are somewhat intended to be perceived as pseudo-historic "vikings but in the late Middle Ages" but I read these books when I was 12 and still thought that vikings were just a Hollywood invention, like the orange filter they put on Latin America or white saviours.

With this long introduction here are some random headcanons regarding ironborn lore and culture that aren't contradictory to canon but would probably clash against the more common fandom-built conceptions (many of which I do not like), sometimes accompanied by explanations and reasoning, often sentimental or based on personal experiences.

Nagga, the other unnamed dragon and the geographical formation of the islands

Heavily inspired by the myth of Trentren Vilu and Caicai Vilu. In the original real life mapuche myth the two giant snakes were enemies and after Caicai Vilu (sea snake) awoke form his slumber he caused a flood to bring down mankind because he considered them ungrateful brats who didn't appreciate the gifts offered by the sea. Trentren Vilu (land snake) helped the humans escape by raising the hills and turning those who drowned into sea creatures (fish, sea mammals and the mapuche equivalent to mermaids included) and those who were about to be engulfed by the waters into sea birds. Due to the long fighting and constant floods the land developed into thousands (not an exaggeration) islands.

My ironborn version of this isn't very different from the myth narrated above with Caicai Vilu's role becoming Nagga's and Trentren Vilu's being given to another sort of dragon that was it's oponent. The major difference in my headcanons is that said opponent perished, unlike Trentren, and Nagga kept on living and causing havoc until the Grey King finally killed it off. And if I am allowed to reach out even more with all this, the mermaid that the Grey King married could have been one of Nagga's victims saved by the other dragon but, taking into account what we know from Strange Stone this would mean that the formation of the Islands and the existence of merlings and the sea dragon would precede the Drowned God. That would be interesting.

Architectonic decoration

Some of my happiest memories take place in a small and poor fisher town in my home country that was usually damp and covered in fog. The beach was not a pleasant one. A remarkable thing about it was it's architecture that wasn't very particular in it's structure but still remains striking to me. The houses near the coast were all typical colourful, wooden stilt houses, but the further you got into land the houses would change and suddenly you found yourself in small and dirty alleys and streets between concrete houses that were rather plain in shape and old but the walls were covered in sea shells, and sometimes starfish and sea urchin carcasses, that had been plastered on the concrete. When I was 12 and had just moved to another country my class was tasked with making a dissertation about what we associate with the word "home". My teacher was a xenophobe who delighted in tormenting me and she laughed at the pictures and referred to them as tacky, my fellow classmates liked emulating her. I however still find them beautiful and that entire sentiment is something I mildly associate to the iron islands in a way.

It is my home. Flawed and meagre, but mine.

I also think that since sea shells are cheap and common it would fit into their more utilitarian tendencies; giving a purpose to what little they have instead of overspending (gold price) on aesthetics. For some reason this is something I like imagining at Harlaw and Lordsport in particular. Here are pictures

Music

Feel weird about this because music in the entirety of Westeros is very generic and that makes it a little boring in my opinion. When it comes to Ironborn we are told of two reaving songs ("Steel Rain" and "The Bloody Cup") and it's mentioned quite often by ironborn characters that getting a song about them is something they should strive for. There might even be some religious reasons behind it too but that wasn't expanded on:

The Drowned God had made them to reave and rape, to carve out kingdoms and write their names in fire and blood and song. - Theon I, ACOK

Makes me wonder if Theon's "Let Abel make a song of that, we flew." could have been influenced by ironborn culture too instead of just his usual romanticism and the chivalric connotations of him "saving the girl". I haven't compared this to the other characters so I can't be sure about this but from my notes Theon seems to think quite a lot about wanting to be in/not being fit for a song.

We also have Loron Greyjoy, "the Bard", and we know very little of him except for that he used to have a gay ol' time with Desmond Mallister, but there's nothing that points to him being looked down on by the other ironborn and the nickname "the bard" feels significant but there's no info so what am I to make up with that? Well, I like to think he was a bit of a patron of the arts and maybe even a composer. The two reaving songs have no mentioned origins so maybe he was involved in their creation.

The thralls were pouring ale, and there was music, fiddles and skins and drums. - Theon II, ACOK

I like all of those instruments but grrm you are a bore. Westeros is about the size of South America and yet they have a total of nine instruments named. Loved the mention of kettledrums during the kingsmoot though.

The largest kettledrum in the world finds itself in Bali and serves religious purposes. I like to believe that perhaps the kettledrums during the kingsmoot also had some religious reasons for their use. Perhaps traditional melodies used to announce the different contenders for the seastone chair.

Drums make sense for reaving songs and truth be told I'm not sure to what he was referring with "skins" but I was surprised by the fiddles because they seemed like a wink at the just as anachronistic golden age piracy, even if fiddles have been around since the 10th century. This makes me think of more folkloric oriented music made more for dancing in taverns and harbours than for rowing.

When being deranged I became aware that percussion and string instruments can be played underwater as they don’t rely solely on air to transfer sound (they would still be very difficult to play and the sound would be weird). Dragging a bow across a fiddle would probably be easier than strumming a harp or lyre though. I don’t think the ironborn are deranged enough to try to play music under water but it makes for a fun picture to imagine them being more fond of sounds that can be transferred through it. I’m imagining them trying echolocation with dolphins.

For some reason I can’t really explain I like the idea of them playing the marimba and other percussion wood based instruments.

I like to believe that the finger dance can be somewhat compared to capoeira as in serving aesthetically pleasing and artistic purposes but also carrying a sort of danger and fighting spirit to it. It is something I can see as a pastime, acrobatic exercise and art and I like that.

Some mapiko dancers will bind sea shells in nets to their clothes and they will use them as bells and rattles when they dance. I like to think this could maybe be part of the finger dance when performed for artistic purposes, like perhaps a diplomatic visit or a national festivity, instead of just as a game.

(not ironborn lore related but as I went through my notes I realised that Theon is usually tense when thinking or witnessing happyish heroic sort of songs but he seems to be weirdly at peace/melancholic around "sad" and "soft" songs during ADWD and I find that very endearing. Go listen to Chris Garneau's between the bars and castle time you sad sulking ghost I love you I wish I could have seen you thrive but we are all doomed : ) )

Priestesses of the drowned god

I am heavily against the fandom notion that the Ironborn built a culture out of toxic masculinity that is particularly misogynistic when in canon women in the island (or at least ironborn women) have more liberties than in most of Westeros (with Dorne as an exception and maaaaaybe the North). The only female stewards we see in the series are all iron islanders and Asha being allowed to reave and raid and engage in spaces usually reserved to men isn't the exception to the rule. Theon mentions that women like her aren't uncommon in the isles, Asha is said to have resembled her mother in spirit and Hagen's beautiful red headed daughter, who is so low on the socio-economical hierarchy that she doesn't even get her own name, is not only allowed to behave similarly to Asha, but her sexual freedom is never questioned or criticised either. I honestly think that their most problematic issues come from feelings of ethnic superiority, not a personal vendetta against women.

So, I find it disappointing and lazy that we haven't gotten any female spaces in the faith of the drowned god. I remember someone mentioning on a Tumblr post that on one of the asoiaf based video games drowned priestesses were a thing. Sadly I have never played any of the video games and I can't find any further sources for this so I don't know if I should trust that. But! I like that idea. Drowned priests are restless; they have no home and are made to basically pilgrim their life away; they travel around the islands and also accompany the men on raids. I think it would be cool if the priestesses of the drowned god had a more stable role in ironborn society. During the age of heroes we had salt and rock kings and in a way I could see the drowned priestesses as the rock to the drowned priests salt but with less authority.

Maesters are still somewhat recent in the Iron Islands and I don't think that Septas would have been appreciated by most ironborn women given their teachings and expectations around gender norms so I like believing that priestesses of the drowned god could occupy that space as educators of children and healers. History and religion seemed to be tied together in ironborn culture and their religion at least passed down orally so I can imagine them acting somewhat similar to mande jèli but with more of a focus on religion and less importance on the overall politics. I can also imagine them performing less important rites, like weddings, coming of age ceremonies or maybe fertility related acts. So basically a mixture between Maester and Septa with a lesser standing to their male counterparts.

Rafts as beds

Drowned priests, who have no homes, should sleep on rafts on nights that are more or less calm because that is a magical experience that I think everyone should go through at least once in their life but it's also fitting to their entire suffering theme because you will freeze to death and get a cold.

Dhows

I learnt how to row, sail, fish and use the night sky as a map before I learned how to ride a bike and my personal nitpicking issue with the world building in asoiaf is the nautical terms used. What do you mean longships and galleys that have decks and cabins????? Even if they have two levels of rowers (and most of the described ones don't) this rarely makes sense!

And you know what? I'm not even going to take my time to give them accurate Viking-like ships. In my head, they travel on dhows. "Dhow" is a generic term to refer to certain types of sailing boats that are mostly used around the Indian Ocean and I am in love with them.

They are precious to me and they allow me more variety when imagining the different ships mentioned in relation to the ironborn characters.

Sea Bitch for example looks more like a beden to me than like a typical Viking longship

but I can still imagine smaller, simpler looking galleys when needed, like a Dhoni. They can carry quite a lot of heavy stuff so they are usually good for trading (and probably raiding) too.

If I recall correctly, the Iron fleet has been identified by the text as some hybrid between dromonds and longships and I can be content with that definition. Personally I picture them more like Byzantine dromonds with a deck, cabins and more than one set of rowers.

Colloquialisms

I have always perceived colloquialisms as a subtle type of resistance to colonial and imperial forces, so I assume that the less integrated and maybe more separatist parts of Westeros (such as the Iron Islands, Dorne and maybe The North) would probably have a wider range of colloquialism as region based expressions. This is difficult to convey in fanworks of any sort and I can't think of any time I've made it noticeable in any of my fanworks but I like thinking about it. This could include idioms related to religious or geographical lore or more ambitious terms stemming from perhaps a former language spoken in the region or words taken and adapted from places they have sailed to, like the Summer Islands.

[viktorisstupid]

Perks of being an art kid, you get to test drive tattoos, cons is drawing on anything that isn't flat makes it look wobbly

I have 4 small tattoos and am so ready to get a big colour one.

[krispyweiss]

Song Review(s): Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band - “Spirit in the Night” and “Tenth Avenue Freeze-out” (Howard Stern)

Turns out the E Street Band can play jazz, too.

Led by their boss, Bruce Springsteen, a pared-down crop of E Streeters played a swingin’ version of “Spirit in the Night” Oct. 23 on “the Howard Stern Show.” The three guitars were acoustic, the backbeat was loose and the song was truncated when Stern mistook a false ending for the real thing, leaving Springsteen to laugh and limp the song to a premature conclusion.

“I suck,” Stern said truthfully.

But the performance absolutely did not. Later, the band lit into “Tenth Avenue Freeze-out” in a more-familiar, though subtler, arrangement to suit the (relatively) small number of E Street denizens in the studio.

Solid. But Sound Bites would really like to hear more of what the band put into “Spirit;” that stuff was boss.

Grade card: Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band - “Spirit in the Night” and “Tenth Avenue Freeze-out” (Howard Stern) - A+/A-

10/30/24

[zer0point5ive]

saw x ticket booked maybe life isn’t that bad. maybe it’s all gonna work out in the end <3

[thirdeyeblue]

Tenth Doctor as John Smith is so attractive to me (even though he's a pompous old man with a stick up his behind), but just the idea...Edwardian Ten...so human and so insecure and blabbering, dreaming about impossible things in his sleep...also, the whole Professor™ look doesn't help either. I bet that if Rose was there in Human Nature/Family of Blood, the whole two episodes would have been a romcom.

Sorry it's it's all jumbled, it's just that I experience a lot of emotions about John Smith and even more about John Smith and Rose Tyler (she would teach him manners, I'm sure).

Oh are you KIDDING ME???!!!

Look at this stupid, sexy jerk in his stupid, sexy outfits with his authoritativeness constantly at war with his tenderness and perhaps a bit of racism and callous disregard towards the predictable behaviors of children but still

LOOK AT HIM

I didn’t realize that loving these episodes was a bit taboo(???) until I decided to join the fandom after years as a Whovian but dear god, leaving the dodgy undertones out of it (which tbh I thought added depth and realism to the episodes and therefore makes me love them even more) the master class powerhouse acting by David Tennant alone is goddamn everything

Also - this is all completely disregarding the fact that these episodes are a shining golden beacon of why Martha is perhaps the most underrated badass of a companion. Love me some Martha Jones 😩💖💖💖 and love to hate to love me some John Smith

[livvyofthelake]

you really would think that two teenage dykes with the insane situation we had going on would have at least made out. but unfortunately.

[casasupernovas]

Examples like this is what I mentioned a while ago about how this era got too pessimistic sometimes. I remember watching this for the first time, and realising this story was really the make or break for the Doctor's characterisation. The narrative could either treat his experience here as an example of his alieness barring him from being happy romantically again OR an acknowledgement that he had not actually grown cold, but clearly had the capacity and desire for love as shown with John Smith.

I just think it would have been nice for the story to end with the Doctor realising and accepting that as much as he pushed it out of his mind, he does actually want to fall in love again. The whole 'he only fell for Joan because she reminded him or Rose' doesn't actually cut it. It's not just her hair colour. He didn't pay attention to Tallulah. Or Lucy Saxon. Or even blink at Lilith. He doesn't have to jump into it immediately, he's not ready yet. But still, recognise that that capacity is still there and most importantly, that it is not a hindrance or flaw.

Because I don't know about you, but the most screamworthy part of this story is how badly everything goes because the Doctor didn't factor in love. We know why he didn't. But the entire thing is just so painful for everyone involved. And it's because of love. The Doctor is an alien but he's dealing with human beings here. So much pain. All because he forgot one of the main things that fuel humanity.

I just think it's a shame the show chose to go down the route of him having the other option. He can never be happy romantically again the end. Screw that. Why not. We all know it can't last, but why not a moment for the Doctor to acknowledge that you know what? Eff it. It's better than loneliness and regret.

[rosetylerdefenderoftheearths]

You know on her TV Tropes character page, it points out that wolves could be seen as her spirit animal (The trope: Animal Motif which is when an animal is used to represent a character, therefore I refer to it as "spirit animal").

The first one is the more obvious example, explaining how she is the Bad Wolf she had been hearing so much about during the first season/seires (I'm American, so I say "season").

A strange example, wolves. Her title as "Bad Wolf" came from the moment when she absorbed the time vortex to return to the Doctor and spread the words "Bad Wolf" so it will create the events of "The Parting of the Ways". In "Tooth and Claw", the host of the werewolf detects "something of the wolf" in her. When the Doctor hears the words "Bad Wolf" from Donna in "Turn Left", he immediately associates them with Rose and the time vortex.

But the second one points out that her personality reflects that of wolves.

On a symbolic level, wolves are known to be mates for life, something that reflects the relationship between Rose and the Doctor as she's among the few companions that the Time Lord had genuine feelings for and Rose finally had the closure she was looking for when the Doctor left her with the Meta-Crisis Tenth Doctor. Rose was the Doctor's most faithful companion, trying to alert him from the parallel universe and shared his duty of protecting the Earth from villains.

Rose is the only companion so far that there is semi-confirmation of the Doctor's feeling in return (I'm only a few episodes into the Twelfth Doctor's era, I know Eleven is heavily implied to have fallen for Clara and I believe that he did fall for her and that Twelve had feelings for her and vice-versa, and then Thriteen had something with Yaz but I don't know if it was recipocated, oh, and there's River but I had always felt like his relationship with River was more of a flirtation on his part.) Rose is the only one that the Doctor was full-on in love with, he was literally born out of his love for her. They deleted it from the episode but in "Born Again" he mentions how his accent is imprinted from Rose's. My love for this just barley outweighs my desire that he had had a Scottish accent. I wish Fourteen got a Scottish accent! I loved the Good Omens episode where Crowley put on a Scottish accent.

"like a chick hatching from an egg"

What I mean from all this is that the Tenth Doctor was never as happy with Martha or Donna as he was with Rose until he saw her again. I know Fourteen says something about never being as happy before but come on, look at those eyes.

[luveline]

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡ 

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago. 

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch. 

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you. 

“I wanna see Max.” 

“She has to be here somewhere.” 

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest. 

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here. 

Steve frowns at you worriedly. 

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers. 

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips. 

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Is it awful?” you ask. 

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult. 

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask. 

“Dustin. He’s outside.” 

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.” 

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes. 

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?” 

“Like you like him.” 

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?” 

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?” 

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings. 

“Looks like something. Are you dating?” 

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.” 

“He was touching you a lot.” 

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely. 

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh. 

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s— 

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder. 

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug. 

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly. 

Oh, boy, you think. 

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy. 

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet. 

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.” 

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.” 

“Steve.” 

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.” 

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty. 

“What?” he asks. 

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles 

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.” 

“I sounded weird?” 

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.” 

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it. 

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do. 

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.” 

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.” 

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something. 

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie? 

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged. 

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews. 

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way. 

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused. 

“You were in the way of the light.” 

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself. 

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?” 

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks. 

“It’s good.” 

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.” 

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you. 

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise! 

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this. 

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing. 

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs. 

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes. 

“You okay?” he whispers. 

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek. 

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen. 

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.” 

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.” 

“I thought…” And of course he did. 

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.” 

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.” 

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes. 

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.” 

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.” 

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.” 

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks. 

“I like you too!” he says loudly. 

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?” 

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again. 

“You okay?” he asks tightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?” 

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.” 

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?” 

You nod vehemently. 

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm. 

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.” 

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you. 

“You can be my parasol.” 

“Your what?” 

“It’s a sun umbrella.” 

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up. 

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay. 

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur. 

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?” 

“That’s perfect.” 

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly. 

“No… I’m thinking.” 

“Nothing good ever comes of that.” 

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight. 

“It’s a question.” 

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world. 

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.” 

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.” 

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.” 

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start. 

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem. 

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur. 

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it. 

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke. 

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

[emberuby]

just like you | y.jw

sometimes, i love myself, touch myself, thinking of you. sometimes, when you're gone, far from home, thinking 'bout you, baby — just like you by emotional oranges

pairing: yang jungwon x fem! reader

synopsis: jungwon asks you if you ever touched yourself to the thought of him.

warnings: established relationship, jungwon is a bit mean, mentions of (almost) drowning, sub! reader (cannot write dom reader for the life of me, sorry), dom! jungwon, mentions of masturbation, possessiveness, oral sex (fem receiving), jungwon is a munch sue him, some fluffy moments.

note: my first ever jungwon fic 🖤 i went a bit crazy after seeing the pics of his blonde hair, so i decided to take this wip i abandoned months ago and finally complete it. hope u guys enjoy! and as always feedback is really appreciated 😚

wc: 3.7k

“How did you feel about me before we got together?”

You turned to face your boyfriend, who was lying calmly on the couch with one arm wrapped around your frame. His sudden question took you aback, but you didn’t want to answer it quite honestly, “Isn’t it obvious? I thought you were a massive pain in the ass.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes and pinched your cheek lightly. "I’m being serious, Y/N. What did you think of me?”

It was humiliating to admit, but you went completely breathless when you first met him. You remember it vividly: you were at a first-year party, and one of your friends brought him to meet you because you were both going into the same faculty and thought you could become good friends.

Well, that didn’t work out at all, as your friendship was short-lived and was plagued with sexual tension that was thick enough to cut through. 

The image in your head was all too clear, of his skin tinted red from the LED lights and his hazy eyes from the drink he took. That night, he looked fucking gorgeous. His hair was bleached blonde, he had a fake lip piercing, and he wore a leather racer jacket. First-year Jungwon thought he was very edgy and unique. 

Even on the first day you met, all you wanted to do was take Jungwon somewhere private and have him shove his tongue down your throat (and maybe somewhere lower, too).

“In all honesty?” You asked, your eyes shining with sincerity.

“Please,” he responded. He placed his palms on your waist and swiftly pulled you on top of him as though you were a feather. He always acted so casually about things like that and did not even care about how it made your heart race.

He would do small acts like wrapping his arms around the back of your seat when he would parallel park and hold your thighs while he was driving as though they were just casual things to him. Did he not realise how much it affected you?

“In all honesty...,” you began dramatically, clearly playing with his impatience. You grinned at yourself as you saw the anxious and eager look on his face. "I thought you were really fucking sexy.” 

That made him smirk, and he lowered his hands from your waist down to your hips. Your breathing quickened at the feeling of his fingers tightening around you. You didn’t finish, however, "And I wanted to kill every girl that you were dancing with. Since we’re in the spirit of complete honesty.”

Jungwon’s eyes lit up. He was all too used to being the possessive one, so it always made him excited when you would get jealous. He didn’t even remember that he was dancing with other girls that night because all he remembered was you.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I wanted to kill all your guy friends that you were standing around with.” 

"I’m pretty sure you still do,” you said.

The smirk fell from his face as he looked off to the side in annoyance. “Maybe I wouldn’t if Jake wasn’t so touchy with you. And I know, I know, he’s just a friend, but I swear that fucker always smirks at me whenever he hugs you. He’s such a piece—” 

You placed your pointer finger against his lips, shutting him up, as you really were not interested in hearing his tenth jealous rambling of the week. “Baby, you’re adorable when you’re jealous, but please, let’s not get into that right now.”

He sighed in frustration but nodded noteless. One of these days, he ought to just fuck you in front of all your guy friends to show them who you truly belonged to, but that would be a conversation for another day.

He extended his tongue out to lick the skin of your fingers, making you flinch your arms back towards you. Jungwon’s eyes turned into crescents as he laughed at your disgusted face. “You’re such a freak,” you exclaimed. 

He ignored your comment, as his mind was still fixated on what he came into this conversation for. He began, “What I really wanted to know was... if you ever touched yourself. You know, to the thought of me.”

You smiled to yourself and hummed, "I see what this is about.”

He tugged you closer to him, pressing your pelvis tighter against him. He hated the snarky tone of your voice. “Well, sue me for being curious.”

Clicking your tongue and looking down at him with pure confidence (and trying your absolute best to hold back the embarrassment), you admitted it. “If you must know. I did touch myself...to the thought of you.”

If Jungwon could, he would have jumped around the room in glee and screamed to his heart’s content, but he chose to keep a still face and just licked his lips. God, that was an ego boost, if anything. “How often?” he continued asking.

Your face flushed. He was not going to let this go any time soon. “Not too often,” you said, but your voice was ever so slightly shaky. Nobody outside of Jungwon would have noticed the slight crack in your demeanour.

He chuckled at your very obvious bullshit. “You’re lying straight through your teeth.”

You flicked his forehead in retaliation, but it was especially frustrating when you knew he was right. “Don’t be so full of yourself.”

He raised his eyebrow, telling you without words that he knew he was right and he wasn’t giving up on this topic. He was such a shithead. 

“Fine! It was… It was pretty frequent. It was really bad when you took me swimming that one time. You were touching me everywhere, and we had so little clothes on. I couldn't even wait until we got home. I just...fingered myself in the changing room to relieve it.”

You wish he could have seen the look in his eyes at that moment. He looked like he was falling down a never-ending rabbit hole of bliss and ecstasy. You couldn’t help but notice the feeling of his cock pressed up against your clothed pelvis, and you knew he was getting harder by the moment.

He remembered that day clearly, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t know the effect he had on you. You two were at the beach, and after he gave you a few tips on how to swim better, you began to feel overconfident and started rushing towards the deep end of the water. 

“How could you be so fucking stupid?!” You remembered him scolding you, holding onto you as tightly as possible, and rubbing your back to help calm your shaking body. Your eyes were glistening with tears, and you were shaking your head in fear. Given how large the waves were that day, you were sure that you would have ended up drowning if Jungwon didn’t get to you quickly enough.

You didn’t respond to him, instead wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders and holding on for dear life. Although the near-death experience was still fresh in your mind, half of you were fixated on the feeling of Jungwon being so close to you. 

While one hand was resting on your back, the other was gripping your thigh, urging you to wrap your legs around his hips to stay closer to him so he could help swim you out of the water. You could feel his crotch pressed up against yours, and you weren’t sure if it was the ocean water or if it was just your arousal that was making your pussy feel so drenched. 

It was the weirdest feeling you had ever experienced—the mixture of fear and lust. You almost wanted to slap yourself across the face for being so affected by Jungwon’s touch. 

You remembered thinking, ‘For fuck’s sake, you almost died, and this is how you act right after? Like a dog in heat?’

While your mind was still reeling, Jungwon kept trying to calm down your nerves. “Hey, it’s okay. I'm here now. You’re not going anywhere, okay?” 

He wasn’t oblivious to it, however. The tension between you was high after that moment, and he remembered being affected by it, too.

“When I got home, I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” you continued speaking. “The first time I ever rode my pillow, it was to the thought of you. I felt pathetic, how I was jerking off to a picture of your face, but I wanted you underneath me...really badly.” 

Your face was burning, and your palms were pressed against his abdomen to help balance yourself. You regretted your shameless rambling as soon as it all left your mouth, especially now that Jungwon had all this ammunition on you. 

Jungwon would definitely use it against you in the future to make you flustered, but as of now, all he could think about was the image of you lying down with your back arched on your bed in the dorm you used to live in before moving in with him. 

He imagined your loose pyjama shirt covering your chest but nothing to cover your glistening pussy as you fingered yourself slowly. Your other hand was holding your cell phone, and on it was a selfie of Jungwon. The selfie would be rather innocent, but it didn’t matter; just a glimpse of him would have gotten you that riled up.

“Yeah? Well, you can get on top of me any time you’d like.”

“You know fully well that’s not true.”

Jungwon preferred being on top of you. Whenever you did ride him, it didn’t last particularly long because you never moved your hips fast enough to meet his insatiable hunger. It would only take a few minutes for Jungwon to become impatient and flip you over to continue fucking you on your back. He preferred to have full control over you, although most people who meet the two of you often assume that you both switch roles often. In reality, you were far too much of a sub for that to happen. 

He almost always had your legs spread and your back on the floor or mattress as he mercilessly took you. The other half of the time, he had you bent over on any surface he could find, taking you as your legs quivered from the pleasure and exhaustion. 

“I let you ride me every now and again, you’re just not very good at it,” Jungwon tried to defend himself. You noticed his voice was getting quieter and deeper, the way it always did when you had intimate conversations at night. His sleepy voice was enough of an aphrodisiac, with its raspiness and its hypnotising nature.

You gasped and placed your palm on your chest, pretending to act offended at his words when, in actuality, you didn’t particularly care about them. 

It wasn’t your fault that Jungwon had insane stamina, and you always get too exhausted when you ride on top of him. It doesn’t help that his size is too much for you to take some days and forces you to slow down while you thrust up and down on his cock. It never seemed to matter how well he prepped you because you would always find yourself struggling.

Jungwon quickly flipped you back into your original position, where you were lying back on the couch, and he sat down on the foot of it and began spreading your legs. His arms were gripping the fat of your thighs, pushing up the fabric of your already tiny pyjama shorts, and it made you even wetter to feel the heat of his palms on your bare skin. 

His face began inching closer and closer to your cunt, and it was making your heart race. You thought he would begin taking your clothes off already, but he instead chose to lay his head on the inside of your thigh like it were a pillow. 

His eyes looked so curious and innocent, all while he was being so indecent. “What did you imagine while you touched yourself?” he asked. 

Your mouth went dry, but you knew this was coming. Jungwon was high on lust and ego at the moment, and he wouldn’t back down until he knew everything about your past. 

“It was such a long time ago,” you said with a shaky tone. Jungwon wasn’t even doing anything, but his gaze alone was making you nervous.

He sucked his teeth and looked over at the side in disbelief. “Stop acting so innocent. I know you remember exactly what happened.” His eyes began turning dark, and he looked like a predator who was about to pounce on his prey.

Your breath quickened, and you searched through your mind, in the deepest and dirtiest parts of it, to recall what you used to imagine.

“Well, for starters, I imagined that you fucked me right there in the water at the beach. I know, it’s weird. We were in public, and I almost died, but I had a fantasy that we swam to a nearby boulder, and you fucked me against it.”

He nodded slowly. “Nothing weird about it, not when I had a similar thought.”

“Really?” you blurted out.

"I can’t even get started on the thoughts I used to have about you, but that’s for another day.”

“But I want to hear—” you yelped as he pinched the skin of your thigh to shush your protest. 

"I want to hear about your fantasies right now. Now go on, tell me more, baby.” 

Fuck, he had such a strong hold on you. You wanted to tell him more, but it was becoming harder to think when he kept inching closer to your cunt, so close that you could now feel his breath on your sensitive clit. 

“Okay… Well, there were some days when I had a really hard time falling asleep. I didn't want to keep taking pills to help relax me, but nothing seemed to work until I just fucked myself to sleep,” you began. Jungwon fingers were now hooked around the waistband of your shorts. 

You elaborated, "I told you already that I used to ride my pillow, right? Well, that wasn’t enough for me. I decided to buy a longer body pillow, rub myself on it, and pretend in my mind that you were fucking me to sleep. It helped a bit, but it was never perfect because I wanted you inside me. Without you, I always felt empty.”

Jungwon could feel his cock hardening and the crotch of his jeans stretching to accommodate it. “Why didn’t you just get a dildo?”

You sighed. By the end of tonight, he would surely think you were an absolute dork. "I guess I thought it was wrong because I only wanted it to be you.”

'That’s my girl', Jungwon thought to himself. 

He chuckled and said, “So you wanted to be loyal to me even before we started dating? That’s pretty pathetic, you realise that?”

You glared at him and flicked his forehead again. “Fine, if it was so pathetic, then I’ll just end the story—ahh!” 

You threw your head back in shock as you felt Jungwon’s lips latch onto your inner thigh and begin sucking on it. You were especially sensitive in that area, and it didn’t help that he was being so rough with it. You could already feel him leaving a mark.

He released your thigh with a pop, and his lips were already puffy and glistening with spit. He looked all too proud of himself and whispered, “You will stop when I tell you to stop.”

You nodded submissively, and it always ended up like this with the two of you. You always fell in line with whatever he said, and you hated yet also loved your body for it.

He began pulling down your shorts and panties in one go, but you had to remain stable and continue telling him what he wanted. 

“The things I imagined were pretty dirty sometimes but soft during others." When I got sad, I would finger myself at the thought of you making love to me, but usually it was...rough.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, satisfied at the admission. Your shorts and panties were now tossed to the side, and he lifted your legs up over his shoulders to give him easier access to your pussy. Every time he laid his eyes on it, he looked like he had just opened a treasure chest. “Fuck, baby, you’re drenched.”

“Just for you, Wonie,” you whimpered, your palms landing on the seat of the couch, knowing you would need to grip the fabric to help balance you as he ate you out. 

He placed a kiss on your clit, as though to thank her for all the service she had done before and apologise in advance for the way he would ruin her tonight. The kiss sent a wave of shock through your spine, and you knew you were in for it now.

“So, what kind of rough sex did you imagine?” He asked right before leaning down and latching his mouth around your clit. 

“F-Fuck!” you moaned. You arched your back off the couch and looked down to see his eyes were still on you, looking carefully to note your every reaction. 

Did he really expect you to recite a story while he was sucking you off like this? Your hole began clenching at nothing, desperate for something to fill it up. 

Jungwon was looking eager, urging you to say something. "I... I always wanted you to pull my hair and spank me. Specifically when you would take me from behind. I liked the idea of being degraded and treated like that. I would even finger myself on my hands and knees to help it be more vivid.” 

The images running through Jungwon’s mind could have probably led him to cumming in his pants. He was glad to know that your past fantasies aligned with your current sex life, as he wanted you to be completely satisfied with it, but he knew there was something dirtier and unexpected that you were hiding.

“Well, that’s pretty fucking tame,” he said, cocking his head to the side. He didn’t really mean it, especially when your comfort was everything to him, but he was riling you up to get you to tell him more. 

You cried out at the feeling of his wet tongue playing roughly with your clit, and at this point, you weren’t sure how you were going to tell him everything when he already began inserting his pointer finger inside your cunt. You were so desperate for something inside you that you practically sucked him in, and your moans became louder with the increased pleasure.

The pressure began building inside you, and everything began to feel hazy, but you tried to soldier on. “And... it got really bad when we didn’t see each other for a long time. When you went back home during the autumn break, I almost lost my mind. I would even listen to the voice messages you left me just to hear you. I couldn't stop imagining you saying the most obscene things to me. My fingers were practically always inside me, and I almost lost it one of those days and thought about just calling you.” 

Sweat began dripping down your forehead, but you were nonetheless proud of yourself for managing to say all of that, even if you were shaky and stuttering. 

“What were you going to tell me?”

“That I wanted you to talk me through it.”

If Jungwon wasn’t hard already, he was now. He felt like a brick was nested in his pants, begging to be let loose, but he wasn’t about to start humping the couch to help relieve it, wanting to solely focus on you and your sopping pussy in his mouth. The thought of talking you through your orgasm on the phone made his brain almost short-circuit. 

"I would have if you told me to.”

"I know, Wonie,” you whined desperately. You could feel your first orgasm approaching, and you knew it was your first because Jungwon never let you rest at night, especially on nights like these. Your knuckles were becoming paler as you held on tightly to the couch, bracing yourself for what was to come.

Jungwon could have spent hours lapping at your cunt if he wanted to, but you could only handle so much, so he had to hold himself back as much as he could. 

You could feel his fingers now scissoring you open, thrusting deep into your walls, hoping to prep you as best as he could for taking his cock afterwards. 

His saliva began dripping down your pussy and landing on the cushion of the couch, leaving a dark mark on the fabric. He groans into your pussy as he feels your arousal coating his tongue, and he begins drooling like a man starved. “You taste so fucking good.”

He had to begin holding tighter onto your thighs as your sensitivity made you try to close them together. He wasn’t about to have any of that. 

You could feel him smirking against your sensitive cunt as he felt the quivering of your thighs from being forced open. Your skin was flushed, and you knew you had no more room in you to keep entertaining Jungwon with stories. 

With one final flick of his tongue, your eyes rolled back, and you began seeing stars in your eyes. He always made you see stars. 

You felt your pussy clench around Jungwon’s fingers, and his dick twitched at the sound and feeling of your orgasm. He loved seeing you like this; one day, he wanted to say fuck to your weak stamina and just fuck you all day long so he could see you filled with bliss like this. 

Your body went limp after the rush of your orgasm finally began to fade, and you let out a small giggle as you saw the way Jungwon’s chin was covered in your essence and his spit. He didn’t care, though, as he leaned up to lay a kiss on your lips, getting the spit all over you. 

“What else did you fantasise about?”