#Fantasy Meets Reality

[crazybunchwriting]

WIP Intro: Carving Fate

You know how some couples carve their initials into trees? And years after the fact, the tree still bears the scar?

Well, turns out, the trees don’t like that very much. Luckily for the trees, they’ve figured out a way to rid themselves of the unsightly blemishes forced upon them by horny teenagers.

Carving Fate gives a glimpse into the secret life of trees, and their resources to combat unwanted mutilation. You see, the key is to break the couple up before they get married. If the couple breaks up, the carving fades and disappears. Once married, however, the initials of the couple are permanently branded on the unlucky tree.

As such, this short story focuses on a particular forest of trees who have perfected the art of breaking people up. Whatever the opposite of cupid is, that’s what these trees aspire to be everyday.

Until one day, the trees meet their match. Oakley is branded with a big J+A right in the center of his trunk. Not even his friends and family can break up the lovely couple, though they try countless times and numerous ways. And after awhile of watching Adrian and Julianna interact, Oakley’s not so sure he really wants to.

#my wip #wip intro #am writing #carving fate #short story #fantasy meets reality #magical realism? #love #breakups #trees

[ovrtersballad]

Why are you talking about oral ?

What's so good about speaking ?

#she knows what you guys mean she's just playing dumb- #DO NOT FALL FOR IT - #I REPEAT DO NOT #🌸ﾟ･｡ * ｡ ☆ * oh hey look! our friends! lets get together : ((dash commentary)) #🌸ﾟ･｡ * ｡ ☆ * but i’m sick of playing games with my demons :: ( xian hua yi dan ) #🌸ﾟ･｡ * ｡ ☆ * : can you tell me what happens when fantasy meets reality ? : (crossover ) #suggestive #tw suggestive

[isayoldbean]

her bracket in the @woltourney isn't up until next week, but here's some huge beef propaganda for your dashboards this wonderful evening nonetheless

#in reality i'm mostly here to goof and meet some other cool wols but. also i love my horrible war criminal babygirl #Final Fantasy #Final Fantasy XIV #ff14 #WoL #Huge Beef

[shitty-check-please-aus]

the weirdest part of this website’s history that I never see anyone talking about is that period where people got so obsessed with a guy who played Peter Pan at Disney that he had to quit (or maybe got fired?) because he was getting stalked

#Instagram has decided recently that I want to see videos about Disney parks #probably should stop liking the pics of a girl from high school who's one of Those Disney People #anyways the thing I can't get over is how like. obstinate people are in their refusal to acknowledge that the 'characters' #are all severely underpaid college students #like I was excited to meet Ariel when I was 5 and didn't have much of a grasp on reality vs fantasy #but these are grown adults being like 'I bought honey to give to Winnie the Pooh :)' #like. maybe campaign for the person inside that very hot outfit to be paid enough to afford their own honey #ik they're not all college students but a lot of them are #anyways I think a Loki actor is gonna end up being Peter Pan 2.0: TikTok Edition #this is just what my gut and my experience being on this website in 2012 are telling me #like they're very good at their jobs and creating an immersive experience but these are all humans who get W2's and pay rent

[biff-adventurer]

FFXIVWrite 2023 Prompt: Check

Just in case, just in case. He looked to his partner, cozied up under the sheets. Warm breath, red cheeks, and eyes dreaming of soft sparks and loud joys. He was still there. And the timepiece? On the wall, a korpokkur painted green, a little man holding a big leaf, and lips so large they could kiss one back to life. A good back up plan to a forgotten phoenix’s down. Just in case… He lie down in the blankets and counted the seconds between his breaths. Home, this was home. A thousand thousand malms from home. A few ilms next to home. He looked to his partner again. Still there, still breathing, still dreaming. The rattle at the back of his mind continued to irk and badger and muddle his mind. He thought of a still pond, but ripple after ripple traveled over its surface. He reached for his partner’s hand and squeezed it tight. Reality is outside the place of thinking. Reality is a place of feeling. One, two, three, four… He checked the clock again. Three minutes. Damn. How much longer could this take?

#FFxivWrite2023 #gwenny writes #biff guy; adventurer extraordinaire #that place where fantasy meets reality and art mirrors life or something like that

[kashilascorner]

just watched notting hill which is supposed to be like an epitome of a good romcom and... Well. Let's just say i highly disagree

#jab we met (2006) really fcked up my expectations of what a good romcom should be #also stuff like nothing serious (2021). it's not enough with the pretty cinematography the colorful #(pun intendes cause they're all white) cast of side characters and the chemistey between the lead actors #i need their background their baggage their context how they actually connect as human beings and change each other #otherwise you're just preaching a stupid idea of what love should be and making up a story where the main couple #go back and forth because PLOT but it's actually because there's practically nothing going on between them in terms of actual trust #you're selling infatuation as love and they're not the same #so in notting hill we know anna has all these troubles. we know she has been in an abusive relationship one after the other. we know she #has a bf by the time she meets the guy. we know that but we never EXPLORE that. we see she's deeply hurt that her intimate #photos were leaked and that her relationship with the guy (her only solace) was revealed to the press but we never really DEAL with the #consequences of that. we're TOLD the guy is a hopeless romantic and an pverall decent fellow. they let drop he dated bella at some point #and worst of all we know he got divorced recently. but we never see his ex wife we know nothing about her he doesn't seem to think #about her at all which is odd at best for someone who claims to both be very devoted to the one he's in love and also claims he's #only been in love twice (bella & his exwife) before anna. we don't see their baggage just hear it. we don't see them talk it out or work #through it and when anna reacts roughly surely because of stress and trauma the narrative ends up putting her in the wrong (though to be #fair he isn't protrayed as being in the right exactly). the film is supposedly all about illusion vs reality and anna's deakre to be seen #for what she is (just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her thing) but actually the movie is about infatuation. a deep #one sure buy not about love. it's about solace but not nuance. it's fairy tale but fairy tales don't work in real life. we're supposed to #strive for the fairy tale which is literally completely impossible to achieve #effective romance movies and romcoms have that fantasy element for sure but they stay grounded. if not in plot surely in human connection #laura watches stuff

[tchaikovskym]

Every time I bond with someone, after some time I've seen all their flaws and I don't love them like I used to, and I feel a sense of alienation,

Even though they haven't done anything wrong, I just... grow tired of them

And that's why I don't think I'm capable of love. There hasn't been a person yet I've wanted to keep a strong bond with after a long period of time

#this is about my coworkers lol #and todays hike #like im a bit petty because they kept rushing and i kept saying that were going too fast bc of all the km ahead #and at first i tried to follow them but at one point i grew to tired and said fuck it #so i lagged behind at my own pace and they had to wait for me after they had gone ahead for a couple of times #and at one point they took a piss break and i was like nope. im going. youre going to catch up with me #and so they did #anyway never going hiking with coworkers again #we actually had another hike before which was cool and we went slowly but today idk. shit #at least quitting will be less hard now lol #also im so tired of them. they keep gossiping about everyone and i literally dont care #but also this post is about my past friendhips too. the girl with the falling out. #maybe there is one friend im cool with and will be cool with forever bc we meet like 2 times a year and dont bother each other with the #every day details of our lives. #so im not sure i could actually love anyone to the point id like to live with them for the rest of my life. #like thats the ideal fantasy goal but in reality i dont think i can handle people #anyway im still pissed about the hike. even with lunch in between we finished it in 6 hours instead of the 8-10hours stated in the guide #like why the fuck would you rush through a hike? its not a marathon and i have short legs aaaahhhhh #sorry but yall long since knew youre following erins life blog right okay love you

[ladyxskywalker]

Hello! I know we don't talk much but I saw posts about a sweet boy and you being shy. While I couldn't find the original post and do not know the whole context, I am here to throw my hat in the ring and say GET IT GIRL! you are such a wonderful and lovely person! I know it's so daunting (believe me, I am super shy too) but you got this! I agree with what others are saying, start a convo and see where it goes 😊 def keep us updated 🥰

hey ! 🤗 well this just means we should talk more then ! 💌

the saga so far lmao: there is this really cute guy on Instagram that I connected with from my area, he is a photographer & goes to the same nature reserve & beach where I'm from. I was scrolling through his photo page today which is mostly professional bird photos, but then there were a few pics of him lifting weights at the gym & I was just all - oh 👀 ! we like each other's pics sometimes, but beyond that I'm just extremely shy & anxious when it comes to stuff like this !

& thank you so much for that extra push, we'll see what happens ! you are a lovely person inside & out 💖 ! xo

#pxk answers #where fantasy meets reality 💞 #nice friends 💫 #photo guy chronicles 💌

[averagelozenjoyer]

Link is everything I want to be, kind, courageous, good with animals and small children, excellent swordsman, being able to support my friends in their times of need, a badass, a goof, buff and a pawn in the gods game of eternal chess! Ya' know the usual!

#legend of zelda #loz #link #I want to be like him so bad #you have no idea #I want to go on a fantasy adventure and meet goofy people! #but no the best i get is this reality where there isn't any magic #but i can become buff #it just takes awhile

[prokopetz]

Something I love about The Far Roofs is how much of a swerve its premise is if you're coming to it uninitiated.

Okay, so there's these talking rats with a culture of swashbuckling heroism – basic Redwall/Reepicheep stuff.

Also, there's a magical realm called the Far Roofs which exists above every human community, and that's where the rats go adventuring; a little weird, but you can see the precedents in popular fiction. It's like wainscot fantasy taken to its logical-yet-absurd conclusion.

By default, the game wants you to play as a fictionalised version of your (presumably human!) self and go up onto the Far Roofs to have adventures with the rats. All right, now it's coming together: it's like isekai fantasy meets The Muppet Show, with you as the obligatory human character, right?

Then we get to the nature of those adventures: the rats have this whole culture built around questing against beings they call "the Mysteries" – beasties with names like Harpy and Goblin and Unicorn. So basically it's a bunch of muppety rats on the roofs fighting Dungeons & Dragons monsters, and you go up and help them do it. Great.

And then you get to what the Mysteries are actually like, and... well, I'm going to let the following excerpt carry the weight here. (This particular bit of text also appears in a previously published work by the same author, so I'm not giving anything away that's still under wraps.)

Unicorn, which is named Numinous, dwells three steps away and beyond the world, but most often in the Farthest Roofs, where the Steppes of the Sky come down to touch the Vast and Earthen Court. There it is stepping upwards from the world, as it has always been stepping upwards from the world, caught in a moment of transcendent glory that does not complete. It simply is. Melanthios heard the footsteps of Unicorn. Melanthios heard the ringing of Unicorn’s bells. So Melanthios chased Unicorn off to the Farthest Roofs, and Melanthios did not return. Anton and Karel, who were his sons, were wiser than their father. They heard the bells but they did not follow. Instead, they memorized the scent. They gathered swords, and ropes, and nets, and they went out. They brought food and water and all manner of gear. They clung to the roofs with all four feet wheresoever after Unicorn they went. It proved no good. Anton looked up, and Karel to his brother. The world came down— That’s what Karel said. He had time to look away. He had time to bury his head in his paws. He did not see the fullness of Unicorn’s presence. He only saw Anton his brother become unreal. In the light of the moment of the Unicorn, Anton became as a paper figure in the fire. His reality burned out. His shadow seared into the roofs behind him. Where he’d stood, for just a moment, the Steppes of the Sky came down to touch the Vast and Earthen Court; and Anton was gone away. So Karel ran and Karel ran and Karel ran from the Unicorn; and all his life, he envied but was more fortunate than his brother.

These are gods. You're going up there to kill God.

Like, it's still silly wainscot fantasy with funny talking rats, but there's that tension. It's like if Fraggle Rock occasionally took a hard turn to serious cosmic horror – Lord Dunsany by way of Jim Henson – and that tonal juxtaposition was treated as something unremarkable.

Basically what I'm saying is go back The Far Roofs.

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #the far roofs #dr. jenna moran #crowdfunding #kickstarter #violence mention #death mention

[theskeletonatthewritersblock]

When Catha nearly dies after an attempt on their life, they wake to the loss of sight in their left eye, and the ability to see into the oceans of Tathos, of the Seraphina galaxy, which is contained in a reality separate from their own.

Vicen falls at the hands of a rival Sea Master, but when he rises it is with sights on a city known as Palmoa, located on a world not light years away, but time lines.

Together Catha and Vicen, bound by a tether stronger then the laws of reality, must aid in their separate struggles to seek revenge on their killers, and stop a gate from opening that may see the ultimate destruction of both of their worlds.

#writing #book idea #story idea #someone steal this so i can just freaking read it #they both wear eye patches other wise it's distracting as hell #they can talk to one another through the connection #Vicen has horrible burn scars that are a result of something #colloquially known as a reality bomb in yet another reality entirely #the so called bomb being a magical spell unleashed in yet another reality #which tore through the different discs of the universe and create a temporary gate #which freed terrible monsters in yet another reality #but which in all of them created a radioactive explosion #which destroyed his epidermis in Vicen's reality #idk i have a buncha buncha buncha worlds that are all connected through the same permanent gate #and the bomb that made the temporary one cracked through a few #resulting in people with horrible scarring like Vicen's #any way Vicen is basically a pirate except his world is more fantastical then ours #the whole seraphina galaxy is a mish mash of cosmic horror meets high fantasy #leaning more towards the fantasy #i have one that leans more towards the horror it's okay #Meanwhile Catha's reality is as close you're going to get to our own so it's kind of basic #except it's kind of cyberpunky #vicen is all joker with a chip on his shoulder #Catha is an actor with very few personal connections and clinical depression #Vicen has chronic pain all of the time and Catha will have the assassination attempt #ship dynamic: let's take ibuprofen together #both of them are NB and otherwise queer and they would die for each other pretty quickly in the story but oh no they can't meet in person #maybe #there's the idea now write the story someone #im too lazy

[ovrtersballad]

@starlighttrain

//He can't drown :P And she deserves a good time dammit (—‸—)

!!!

Would he like to hear some folk tales and see the really nice reef she used to fish at !

#🌸ﾟ･｡ * ｡ ☆ * come and take me away. from all the things i’ve ever known :: ( yiska ) #🌸ﾟ･｡ * ｡ ☆ * : can you tell me what happens when fantasy meets reality ? : (crossover ) #starlighttrain #water children just being exited to enjoy the beach

[ramshacklefey]

I've seen increasing buzz around here about Howl's Moving Castle (book). I think you all deserve to know that all of Diana Wynne Jones's books are filled with characters and plots that are absolutely as delightful and unhinged as that one.

Some Actual Plots include:

Dogsbody - The star Sirius is accused of murder and sentenced to exile on Earth in the body of a dog until he finds a magical item called a Zoi. He's adopted by a young Irish girl living with her abusive and neglectful English relatives. He has to balance his desire to find the Zoi with needing to be a Good Dog for the girl who takes care of him. Also the Wild Hunt is there. Hexwood - A girl finds a magical wood behind her house where she meets a wizard who thinks he's a convict of the intergalactic government, a boy created by the man to destroy said government, and a robot found in a junk heap. The magic wood is actually an alternate reality being generated by an AI who has a grudge to settle with the head of said government. The book is about abuse, PTSD, and trauma. The Dark Lord of Derkholm - Magical world is being destroyed by a company using it as an isekai amusement park for people from another dimension. Bio-wizard is appointed Dark Lord for the year, and he and his family (four of whom are bioengineered griffins) have to find a way to survive the season while everything is going wrong. Deep Secret - Interdimensional detective/diplomat/wizard needs to find a replacement for his deceased mentor. He does so at a fantasy convention, while trying to keep an interdimensional empire from collapsing into civil war after the emperor is assassinated along with all of his heirs.

She's an absolute master at weaving fantasy elements into the mundane world and writing from the PoV of kids. Her books are funny, clever, and full of delightful characters. I'm begging you all to check them out.

#diana wynne jones #howls moving castle #fantasy #rowling WISHES she had a nano-particle of this talent #book recommendations #please add your favs if you want

[yawnderu]

Captain's Wife - John Price & TF141 x Reader

work starting to feel like I do belong in the kitchen 💀so here's some Price domestic stuff to keep me going until Friday so I don't lose my mind.

Content: small drabbles, fluff, domestic!Price, vouyerism, John ''I share my wife'' Price, TF141 x reader.

I actually think about being Price's housewife quite a lot. Being a cute little thing he has waiting for him back at home, a domestic life for the first time ever, something he never even thought was possible.

He bought big house in the British countryside, just to make sure you're free from all the stress city life brings. Any hobbies you may have he fully supports and funds, giving you extra spending money on the side despite knowing you don't usually spend it, having all your needs and interests taken care of by him.

This man spoils you rotten without you even asking, having savings for years before he even met you and a good salary as a captain in the SAS. Anything you even glance at when you're out with him at the mall? Bought for you with no hesitation at all. Jewelry, clothes, lingerie; you don't lack any of those things when you're with him.

Any affection you miss while he's deployed is given to you once he's back, his fat cock filling you up in different positions, despite how tired he might be, he always has the energy to fuck his darling wife good. He always puts your pleasure first, making you cum with his fingers and tongue before he even thinks about putting his dick inside. His efforts don't come without rewards, of course, and it has become one of his favorite things to see you down on your knees, praising his thick cock and heavy falls, praising him.

Being a Captain comes with sharing many things with his boys- from gear, to his wife. The first time you're introduced to the boys, the thought of straying doesn't even cross your mind, fully loyal to your husband and simply happy to meet the boys he considers his family. It isn't until Price has you sitting on his lap with your legs wide open, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you in front of the younger men that the thought of having someone other than him hits your brain.

John doesn't miss the way your eyes linger on the younger men. Soap shamelessly has his dick out, stroking up and down slowly, basking in on the sight of his captain fingering your soaking cunt. Gaz is more subtle about it, though eventually he can't ignore his boner, pulling out the prettiest dick you've ever seen and stroking it with more enthusiasm than the others, free hand massaging his heavy balls, begging for release.

Ghost is the one who takes the longest to give into it, ignoring his painful boner being strained by his jeans up until John is fucking you. The sight of your attractive body bouncing on his captain's cock is too much for him, legs spreading wider on the couch to adjust his boner until his hand hesitantly starts to rub his length over his clothes, shamelessly thinking it's him the one fucking you.

And that fantasy becomes a reality soon enough, once you're fucked-out and your cunt is ready to take more, nice and wet for the men he trusts the most. He has rules for it, of course. They can't fuck you without a condom, anything you feel uncomfortable with is off limits, and if you show any signs of discomfort, they have to stop. Soap only whined about not being able to fuck you raw, earning him a look that got him to shut up immediately.

Gaz is a gentle lover despite how excited he was, eating your cunt out nice and slow, plump lips latching onto your clit while your hand gently pushes the back of his head closer, a teasing ''patience, love.'' escaping his lips as he lines up the tip of his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing in and giving you time to adjust to his thickness before he's fucking into you slowly, making sure every thrust hits deep inside you. He switches positions a few times, settling in for the one that makes you moan louder, hands holding onto your hips as he fucks into you from behind.

Johnny is more eager, more... youthful, just happy to be able to fuck you. He'd never admit it, but he's had his eye on you ever since he first met you, wishing he was as lucky as his captain. He eats you out for the longest, messily sucking and licking all over your cunt, lips latching onto your clit, tongue swirling over it, your moans encouraging him to go for longer even when his tongue is tired. He's on his knees in front of the bed, one of his hands busy jerking himself off and stopping right when he's about to cum just by tasting you. H's not enthusiastic about putting a condom on, though he quickly forgets about his annoyance once he's balls deep inside you, hands holding onto your waist as he fucks into you, fast and deep.

Ghost is the only one who doesn't eat you out yet, being slightly uncomfortable about the whole thing and about being watched. John knows Ghost ever since he was Simon, so he tells the boys to go clean up while he too leaves the room, making sure to be within earshot in case anything happens, despite knowing he can trust Simon with his life. He makes up for it by fingering your cunt, long digits sinking into it slowly, brown eyes fully focusing on your expression to make sure you're enjoying every second of it. It takes a while before he fucks you, condom rolling down his thick length and making sure you're all nice and wet before hesitantly pushing in, holding you in a nice missionary while he thrusts in and out, his massive body caging you in and making you feel safe. The mask goes up halfway, giving you sloppy, inexperienced kisses as a reward for taking him so well. Simon is a talker when he's close, face seeking shelter into the crook of your neck as he praises you for being so good for him, for taking his cock so well and making him feel good.

Once the boys are gone, Price runs a bath for you, asking you if you enjoyed yourself and if you'd be interested on doing that again in the future. He presses gentle kisses to your forehead, warm hands washing your body with love and care, allowing you to fall asleep in his arms even when you're in the bathtub. He dries your body and puts you to bed after changing the sheets, a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost x f!reader #price mw2 #john price #captain price #captain price x female reader #captain john price #captain johnathan price #cod price #price cod #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #141 smut #cod smut #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle gaz smut #gaz x y/n #gaz x reader #gaz x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick fluff

[skzdarlings]

bets and situations ; skz ; minho x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: minho and “is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them?” please

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: rivals to lovers. street racing. stubborn!reader. placing bets, betting sex (still explicit consent), fucking vs making love. outdoor sex. sex on a car. explicit sexual content. word count: 3400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

-

Sure, you are a little insufferable. 

But Lee Minho is worse. 

He carries himself with an elitist pomposity, like he is above the other drivers just because he once raced professionally.  Trophies or not, he is out here with the rest of you, illegally racing cars down desert roads, placing bets in the dead of night. 

You were content until this fucker came along.  Lee Minho and the stupid pretty face that won him fan clubs and brand deals.  Ugh.  You hate him for having that life and for giving it up when it is a fantasy for you.  The world of professional racing is notoriously hostile to women.  You admit there is a tinge of bitterness on your side of every interaction, but he goads you like an asshole.    

He arrives with his usual entourage.  A couple of them are racers, though not professionals, and a couple just spectate and mind his vehicle.  He has a nice car, almost as pretty as him.

You whistle as he approaches.  He looks at you with his usual exasperation, delicate features pinched with annoyance.  His hair was a vibrant red in his racing days, quite the act of showmanship, but it’s a natural dark brown now, framing his mean, stupid, handsome face.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you say.  “Finally gonna grow a pair and race me?”

His scowl turns to a bitchy little sneer.  He laughs sarcastically. 

“Not worth the mileage,” he says.  He shoulders past you, his leather jacket against your denim.  “Winning against a little girl does nothing for my massive ego.”  He says this with a sarcastic flourish, mocking your derision of him. 

You know the comment is a deliberately cheap shot.  Unfortunately, in reality, Minho is the least chauvinist racer you have ever met, treating the women here with the same basic dignity as the men.

It’s just you he hates, because you hate him too.   It was inevitable.  You were hostile when first meeting.  You challenged him to a few too many personal races.  You were a sore loser and even worse winner.  What started as an effort to prove something spiralled into a rivalry. 

You won the last couple races.  You gloated a little too hard and now he is refusing to race you again. 

“Sure,” you say.  “Sounds to me like you’re scared to lose for the third time in a row.” 

He just keeps walking, ignoring you, which is so much more infuriating than when he snaps back. 

You decide to keep your distance tonight.  If you continue to agitate yourself, you are going to develop a stress aneurysm.   So you keep to your own group, race your own races, and collect your own winnings. 

But, ugh.

He is right there. 

Just in the corner of your eye, just skirting the periphery of your space, just breathing the same night air.  When you are looking at him, he captivates you.  When you look away, he is like an impossible itch, begging for your attention again.  You constantly catch him looking at you too, which does not help matters. 

By the end of the night, you feel like a live wire, all electricity and unbound energy.  Not a single race has satisfied you.  You won three of four, making way more money than you lost, but it is not enough.  It is never enough.  You already know how good you are.  You know you can beat most of these guys blindfolded. 

Your only perfect match is Lee Minho.  The only victory that matters is that one. 

As the crowd disperses and everyone departs, you march towards him.  He is saying goodbye to his crewmates, his back to you, but his buddy cracks a grin when he sees you coming.  He smacks Minho on the shoulder before turning away. 

Minho turns around with a befuddled look on his face.  When he sees you, it slackens to that unamused vexation.  He pockets his hands in his leather jacket and slouches against his car.  He shakes his head as you stomp up to him. 

“One race,” you say. 

“No,” he replies, without missing a beat. 

“Why not?”

“Because I said so,” is his insufferable reply.

“That’s not an answer,” you say.

“That’s too bad.”  He gives you a final shrug then turns, opening his car door, preparing to leave. 

“Wait,” you say. 

You heart is racing.  Somehow, you feel like tonight is different from every other night.  Maybe it is the perfect crispness on the breeze, the remarkably clear sky, or maybe just the way those jeans seem to hug his thighs.  Stupid hottie.  You will have him and his attention.  You will get the better of him, one way or another.  It was all leading to this. 

“One race,” you say.  “A bet worth the mileage.” 

“I don’t need your money,” he says.

“I’m not offering money,” you reply. 

Finally, he closes the car door.  He sighs, a very loud and dramatic sigh, like you are the biggest inconvenience on earth. 

“What are you offering?” he says, facing you.  The disinterest in his tone is betrayed by the curious sweep of his gaze, an up-and-down perusal like he expects to find his prize somewhere on your body. 

Oh.

You feel flushed inside, realizing that it exactly what he is thinking.  Looking at you with a hungry, lecherous gaze, anticipating you are about to offer up yourself as a potential prize. 

It makes your heart stutter and your lips do the same, your next words all tangled up on your tongue.  It did not even occur to you to offer such a thing.  You hate him, so of course you would never think about him that way.  But now that he is looking at you like that, his expression coloured with interest and suggestion, you find yourself too shocked to even parse your feelings. 

The only thing that is obvious, abundantly obvious, is the punch of heat in your gut.  No, lower.  Heat that curls up inside you and makes you second guess.  Heat that is curious about the look in his eye. 

Then you shake your head.  You resist the urge to smack him for throwing you off.  You were in control and now you are flustered. 

“Not me,” you snap. 

His eyes, which have made their way down your whole body, follow the same path up.  He meets your gaze eventually.  Then he says nothing, because he is the worst, and just lifts an eyebrow at you. 

“My car,” you say, with no-nonsense finality.  “I bet my car.” 

He blinks at you.  Long, slow blinks like a cat.   It takes him a second to find a sentence. 

“Your car,” he says.  He tilts his head and squints, looking at you with scrutiny, like he is trying to see through your ploy.  “And what do you want if you win?” 

“Admit I’m the better driver once and for all,” you say.  The words feel a little foolish leaving your mouth.  You have been chasing the high of that confession, aggravated every time he dodged it, but saying it out loud makes you feel needy.  You clear your throat and stand straight like you are unbothered.  “That’s all I want,” you say.

He rubs a hand across his jaw, laughs incredulously, then swings his arms out at his sides. 

“Fine,” he says.

By now, everyone else has gone.  It is just you and him under the streetlights, the long empty road stretched across the dunes ahead.   You stare at one another, like there is no road and no sky, no world at all outside each other.  It is intense and all-consuming.   

You hold out a hand.  He takes it and yanks you closer to him.

“I would have told you that for free,” he says.  “Since it’s the truth.  You just had to ask.”

Now it is your turn to blink, looking at him with shock.  You would have been less stupefied if he called you a tirade of rude names, or tried to weave doubts in your mind.  Instead, he smiles at you, and it is not half as smarmy as usual.  He drops your hand and turns away, leaving you gawking at the air as he ducks into his car. 

He honks the horn, snapping you to attention. 

The heat rushes back in a hurry.  You swallow, then walk to your car on suddenly shaky legs. 

-

He wins.

Of course he wins.

You were distracted by his parting words.  You and him are so closely matched in skill that a fleeting weakness is all it takes for one to overtake the other.  You were faring well at the start, but his engine revved and your attention strayed.  Your prize was somewhat nullified by his confession, your behaviour embarrassing in hindsight.  You bet your car.  What were you thinking?

You weren’t.  And it was all his fault.   

Your car skids to a screaming halt just seconds after him.  You smack the steering wheel with frustration. 

Maybe I should have just bet my body, you think to yourself, a thought that has you shivering from something other than adrenaline.  Thoughts like that are not like you.  And Lee Minho is the last man on earth you could ever want.  Even though he is simultaneously the only man you want, or at least the only one with an opinion that matters, the only man whose attention you ever want.  He is always the highlight of your night. 

Oh god, you think with a nervous twist in your gut, I like that arrogant loser. 

Facing him is hard and it has nothing to do with losing your car. 

He is not gloating because he is not the type.  He is just leaning against his vehicle with his arms crossed, watching your nerves and passion get the better of you.  He does not flinch when you get right in his face, huffing from exertion.

“Do-over,” you say.

“Absolutely not,” he replies. 

“You got in my head on purpose.” 

“I can only do that if you let me in,” he says, looking smug.

“One more race,” you insist. 

“You have nothing left to bet.”

“Me,” you blurt.  “I bet myself.” 

You feel some satisfaction at the flicker of surprise that creases his brow, but then he is just staring and blinking again.  Your heart still thinks it is in a race, stampeding so far ahead that your whole body is awash with heat. 

“You,” he finally says.  His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, then he tilts his head in that studious way. “What does that mean?” 

You feel so hot it is making you a little woozy.  It’s just aftershocks from the race, you tell yourself, even though that heat comes from somewhere much more intimate. 

You cross your arms stubbornly.  You look away.  You even stomp your foot. 

“You know what I fucking mean,” you snap. 

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he asks in a teasing tone.  “By fucking your way out of them?”

You refuse to answer.  You arms are still crossed, your face still turned.   

He touches your chin, a painfully delicate touch.  Whenever you do fuck someone, it is hard and fast, like everything else you enjoy.  Your greatest rival should be touching you with the roughest touch of all, but it is the very opposite.   It is a suggestion of a touch, little more than a caress as he turns your face to his.  You swallow until the intense focus of his sharp eyes. 

“I don’t fuck like that,” he says.  He bats his pretty eyelashes while smirking like a devil.  “I don’t have to make bets.  I make love to people because they want it.  Sorry.”  He rolls his eyes and turns away, wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic good-bye wave as he slides into his driver seat.  “You can keep your car.  I don’t want or need it.  Good night.” 

You put yourself between the door and car, stopping him from closing it.  He looks at you, eyes narrowed more intensely. 

“Now, now,” he says. 

“I’m a big girl,” you snap.  “I don’t need you protecting my honour.  I wouldn’t offer to let you fuck me if I didn’t mean it.” 

He stares at you, contemplative behind those dark eyes.  He has just returned your vehicle so you have no reason to make another bet, other than to prove the veracity of your previous offer: that you do want to fuck him, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I told you that you can keep your car,” he says. 

You are amazed smoke is not blowing out of your ears, considering how hot your face feels. 

“I heard you,” you say. 

He gets out of the car slowly, holding your gaze the entire time.  You take a step back. 

Then he walks at you, which forces you to take another backwards step.  Step by step across the tarmac.  The breeze tousles a bit of his hair, but nothing stops his stride and his eyes never leave yours. 

You find it difficult to catch your breath.  Garnering this man’s undivided attention has been your only goal for months, and the reality of it is heady.  He is intoxicating. 

It seems the feeling is reciprocated, given how he looks at you, which just makes you stumble in your backwards trek.  He catches your wrist, tugging you upright, yanking you closer.  You collide with his chest, disoriented from so little. 

“So,” he says.  “If you win, we fuck.  And if I win, we make love.  Is that correct?” 

“Whatever, there’s no difference,” you say.  You are instinctively combative when flustered, redirecting the source of your embarrassment to confrontation. 

It seemingly works.  His attention diverts and he says, “Yes, there is.”

“No, there isn’t.” 

“Yes, there—”  He stops himself from retaliating with the same childish rejoinder.  He props his hands on his hips, shaking his head at himself as he stares up at the stars.   

Eventually he huffs, rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, then looks at you. 

“Fine,” he says.  “We’ll race.” 

Your heart is already revving like an engine.  You take another couple steps back to smirk at him triumphantly.  You walk right into your car, that smug face dropping in surprise.  It gives him the opportunity to crowd you against it, planting his hands on either side of your head.  You hold your breath. 

“You have to pass my test first,” he says. 

“Excuse me!”  Your own incredulity resounds.  You smack his chest but he does not move. 

“It’s just two questions,” he says.  “You’re a smart girl.  You’ll figure it out.” 

He is tormenting you.  You hate him.  You hope he never stops. 

“Fine,” you snap.  His smirk makes your whole belly swoop with anticipation. 

“Good,” he says, then stands back. 

You hold his stare, refusing to show any weakness.  At least you can catch your breath in the space between you. 

Then he says, “Get on your knees.” 

Your legs are already shaky – from nerves, from the dwindling adrenaline of your race.  There are a lot of reasons your knees buckle.  Plenty of explanations for why you do not hesitate, sinking to your knees right there on the road. 

Your gaze drops, flustered by his demand and your response.  You look at his shoes, all black, well-worn, scuffing the tarmac as he steps towards you. 

“Now tell me,” he says, then gathers a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back.  He meets your gaze as he says, “Is this fucking or making love?”

Then his fingers are in your mouth.  You let him in without any hesitation, like your whole body is instinctively attuned to his.  His grip is firm, his fingers relentless, undoubtedly fucking your mouth with the sloppy, mean thrust you would expect from an enemy.  Still, it feels good, unbelievably so, your mouth wet and hot and his fingers sliding over your tongue, the soft suction of your lips making his eyes blaze and his throat bob as he swallows. 

When he slides out, a trail of spit connects his fingers to your lips.  Your lips quiver with a shuddering breath. 

“Well?” he says. 

You swallow, but eventually manage a weak, “Fucking.” 

“Good,” he says, grinning that wicked grin.  “That’s one out of two.  How about this one?” 

He drops to his knees.  You are face-to-face now, kneeling on the road in the dead of night.  There are no witnesses to this scene except maybe the stars, the clear night revealing all your secrets. 

His face is as open, his expression suddenly so devastatingly soft and vulnerable.   Your breath stutters before he even moves.  He cups your cheeks with both hands and draws you to him.

Your eyes close when your lips touch.  He strokes his thumbs across your cheeks and licks into your mouth with decadent slowness, like he wants to savour every second of your taste.  Your mouths move together like they were made for each other, never racing too far ahead. A perfect give-and-take. 

When he stops, you feel dizzy and bereft, but only for a second.   He cups your jaw and tilts your face just so, then his fingers are parting your tender lips and the taste of him is on your tongue once more.  Your eyes close and you moan thoughtlessly, bobbing your head to the gentle rhythm he sets. 

“This,” he says in a feathery-light voice.

You shiver as he slowly withdraws his fingers.  He wipes his thumb across your lips to clean you.  You let him cup your chin and tilt your face, this time so he can look you in the eye. 

“Tell me what we’re doing,” he says.   

The suggestion makes you throb.  You are hot and aching when you admit, “Making love.”

“Good,” he says, then pecks your lips before rolling onto the balls of his feet and shooting upright.  “Now we can race.” 

-

It is a perfect draw. 

You are both distracted.  When you slam on the brakes in the same place at the same moment, it is with a singular purpose in mind. 

Doors slam.  You meet in the space between your vehicles. 

“I won,” you say, just to be argumentative. 

He is shrugging out of his jacket.  It his the ground.  He does not break his stride, already going for his belt.  Your knees nearly buckle again. 

“Fine,” he replies.  “Then get over here.  I’m fucking you on the hood of my car.” 

Fucking you is exactly what he does.  It is not making love.  He strips you methodically, your jacket and shirt and bra.  Your jeans get shoved down past your knees and he bends you over the hood, still warm from the purring engine.  You are hot and frantic, cheek pressed to the hood of your rival’s car while he works you open and shoves himself inside you. 

You make a sharp sound then a low moan, hands plastered to the hot hood.  He fucks you like he races you, without holding anything back because he knows you can take him. 

It feels as primal as a race, the animal instinct that conquers you in a rush of adrenaline.  It is your singular focus, the steady thud of him inside you.  You do not care about appearances, about seeming ridiculous, meeting every thrust and moan with your own.  He sounds good and feels better, your bodies in harmony, chasing each other to the finish line. 

He yanks you up, your back arching as he turns your head for a kiss.  It puts you over, clenching hard around him, setting him off.  He makes a soft sound then groans with pleasure.  He stays there for a minute, both of you breathing hard.

“I want you to keep your car,” he finally speaks, “because I need you to come back tomorrow and race me again.” 

You gasp when his hand moves between your legs, working you up again, slowly but surely.   

“Because next time I’ll win,” he says.  “You sounded so good getting fucked.  I want to see your face when you come on my cock again and again from making love.”

“Won’t happen,” you say, even while your on the cusp of doing just that. 

“Mm,” he says, then laughs that light, evil laugh as you come all over his hand.  He kisses the side of your head and says, “Wanna bet?” 

#lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x you #lee know x you #lee minho x you #valentinesdaystories