#like Bookstore’s response was like I don’t want to do just casual sex i need a connection (but what we’ve been doing is good so) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vidalinav · 3 years

Text

Nessian Week Day 2: Gifts (Part 2)

Summary: Cassian likes Nesta’s night gowns... and buying her things. Swear this is not a sugarbaby AU. It just sounds like it.

You can thank @arinbelle and @simpingfornestaarcheron for this. They threatened me with knives.

Nesta’s on the armchair when he gives her his gift. She’s already reading a book, and he can tell she’s surprised to see another one resting on his palm.

“What’s this?” She asks, “It’s not my birthday.”

Cassian only smirks, looking to wear she traces the cover, and where she traces his hands holding the book as if his skin is more precious than paper. “Does it need to be your birthday for me to give you gifts?”

Nesta raises a too heavy shoulder for him gifting her a book. But he’s long since heard this argument she gives. He knows her all too well.

“I haven’t gotten you anything,” she says as if the words might make it take him back. There’s disdain in her voice and Cassian knows it’s for herself. For the lack of love she thinks he’ll find by her actions.

Cassian thinks no such thing. Nesta loves with her whole heart, so achingly overflowing. She rubs at his wrist without so much as a thought, as if it might soothe some pain in him. But the pain is in her, and so Cassian rushes to absolve her of her misguided guilt. “I don’t give you things, expecting anything in return. I get you thinks because I want to.”

"But you’ve gotten me so many things lately.”

Nesta’s right about that. Cassian is endlessly giving her gifts. He can’t stop, it seems. He goes into the city and they pass by a window, and something about that bag reminds him of Nesta. Something about that bike seems like Nesta. Something about that candle smells like Nesta. He passes restaurants and bakeries, and all around he sees food Nesta might try. He goes walks through the city, and he thinks of all the places Nesta would like.

She never leaves his mind and when he’s spent the day with his friends, meetings turning into dinner, Cassian thinks of Nesta then, too. He stops by the bookstore, because what else screams Nesta Archeron, but a smutty book? He peruses the titles and finds the raunchiest he can find. Cover and all.

That’s what he gives her to absolve himself of his guilt. For being away for so long, for not asking if she wants to come with, or go somewhere else. That’s what she holds in her lap. Something to ease them both.

She sets the other book on the side table, and Cassian recognizes the title. One of her favorites she keeps re-reading. Nesta takes the book, flipping to the inside cover. Even the description is tantalizing. Cassian flips to some random page in the store and it has him wanting to read the words to her, or... have her read the words to him. He can only imagine what they can do with all that description.

“You brought me a romance?” Nesta only looks up at him, blinking those long lashes and furrowing her neat brows. “How did you know which one to choose?”

She purses her lips and Cassian focuses on the color. A dark shade of pink from where she bites. Nesta always bites them when she reads. A bad habit of hers.

But it’s the color that Cassian holds on to. How nicely it contrasts with her skin, the sweet freckles dotted across her shoulders from when she trains. Her shoulders are bare, except for two tiny straps. Such flimsy things to pull and tug. Still he wants to kiss at them like he does every night. Such an engrained, important routine.

“You think I don’t know your tastes?” Cassian snorts. “I picked the one with the male that looked most like me. See.” He points to the cover, where there’s indeed a muscled male, with long dark hair. Cassian’s hair is shorter and his ears aren’t pointy and his muscles are much more defined, but it’ll do for Nesta’s fantasies.

Nesta scrunches her nose and Cassian wants to kiss their too. Everything about her is tooth-rotting sweet.

“You’re full of yourself,” she says.

“And you haven’t said thank you,” he taunts. He uses the voice he knows annoys her. Casually chastising. A voice he knows also makes her blush. Maybe that makes her irritated, too, how much he affects her without trying. Cassian uses that tone well, and he uses it often.

Cassian raises a brow, waiting for her response, but his mate waves a hand, half-dismissive, half-haughty. All manners of insecurity tucked away. This is the Nesta he knows so well. He knows the other parts of her, too. But this is the one he fans the flames to, the one who makes him light up with mischief. “I didn’t ask for the gift.”

Cassian almost tuts, shaking his head. “But you like it. Page 103 has something in there we should try.” He tucks a stray piece of hair that falls forward, and he makes sure to brush his hands across her neck. “He takes his whole fist and he--”

“Stop!” Nesta calls. “Fine, I like the gift. Please don’t give me anymore details.”

Cassian smiles, a wide victorious grin. “And that means?”

Nesta scoffs, “thank you, Cassian.”

“A please and a thank you, what will the world do?” He kisses her head, suddenly serious. He can smell lavender and peppermint tea and just her scent alone makes him want to hold her close. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.

Cassian moves to sit on the side of the armchair. His plan is for Nesta to move, to make room for him as she so often does. Another part of their routine. The chair is big enough for them both. Perhaps they can read the book to each other, exchange word for every smoldering word.

Nesta doesn’t budge from the seat. She begins to read and Cassian coughs, shuffling on the tiny arm space. He nudges against her shoulder, but Nesta simply continues. She doesn’t even smile up at his antics, give him a glare because he irritates her. She reads and she ignores him.

“You haven’t gotten me anything,” Cassian complains.

Nesta huffs, “you just said you didn’t give me things to receive anything back.”

She barely lifts her eyes off the page as she tells him that and something about the way she looks at the book annoys him, has him wanting to reach for it and take it back, throw it out the window if he has to.

“I can think of more than a few ways to thank me,” he goads.

Nesta rolls her eyes, “All you think about is sex.”

Cassian doesn’t disagree. Especially not when she begins biting at her lip as she reads. “Yes, but that’s all you think about, too.”

He gestures to the book in her lap as proof and Nesta squints at him as if he needs to come up with better evidence.

“No,” she argues, “I’m currently thinking about how long it will take me to read this... I might be up all night.” She flips to another page. “You just got me something new to read and you were just going on about manners, I’d think it rude to not first enjoy my gift.”

“And what of my gift?” He sings.

Nesta raises a brow, and it’s that expression that has him burning at the seams. Her hair is down and he wants to comb his fingers through it, pull at it, feel how soft it is... and she’s wearing one of those nightgowns again.

She always wearing one, even if Nesta will hardly keep it on throughout the night. Cassian never knows what to do with his hands while she’s wearing it and he thinks that Nesta must know. She wears it to entice him. To make him want her more like that’s even possible.

It’s possible, Cassian finds.

Her nightgown today is the richest green and her skin glows pale in the moonlight. He aches to trace the sweet swell of her breasts with his tongue. They look so inviting in that silk dress of hers and there’s a bow right at the center. His present to unwrap.

“I’m very satisfied with you being my present.” He says, his voice so low he can hardly recognize himself. With his thumb, he traces the little ribbon. “Look, you even have the bow.”

Cassian watches as the blush rises at her chest and he wants to kiss there. He aches to do so, but first he moves to tug the ribbon with his teeth. And when Nesta straightens, her book lowering even further, he nips at her nipples that peak through the fabric. Just how she likes. A little bite and a tug, a little pain to entice her. To make her breath catch in her throat.

He takes his time with them. Nesta’s breasts are gods given. They deserve his attention. Large enough to fit in his palms.

But Nesta’s impatient as she always is.

Cassian leans forward, until he’s practically towering over his mate. She’s so small on that couch and she looks lonely there, all tucked in dark blue. The book lays open where the fabric billows between her legs, but Nesta pays no mind.

“Now will you let me unwrap my gift?” Cassian grasps her neck, and Nesta gasps but he merely rubs his thumb at her pulse. He can hear it hammering away as Nesta blinks, her eyes so wide and her cheeks so pink and he’s just at the edge of her mouth.

He thinks he’ll kiss her there, but first...

Cassian snatches the book from her lap. He holds it above his head as she leaps from the chair. Irate and just a tad too slow.

“Hey!” She scowls, “You overgrown bat! You just got me that book and now you’re bending the pages!”

“It seems you get distracted easily, sweetheart. We should work on that,” He says.

But Nesta’s been working on many things and so she lunges for him, wrapping her legs around his waist as she reaches for her book. Cassian merely holds it higher.

“I mean why read smut when you can experience the real thing?” He offers. Nesta reaches even further, pulling at his shoulders. Cassian moves the book to the other hand, just out of her reach. “I’m always willing.”

“You’re a horrible person and I hate you.”

Cassian gasps at that, holding his other hand to his chest.

“I don’t even want your gifts,” she adds, her eyes burning with fury.

“Now you’re just asking to be spanked,” Cassian says, shaking his head, “Is that what you want, Nes? I think that was on page 50. It’s a shame you never got to it.”

“You just like to hear yourself talk!” But Nesta looks at him as she blushes, and when he smirks, she wacks him in the chest. “Give me back my book!”

Cassian merely wraps his arms around her, keeping her steady in his arms. The book is tucked behind her back and Nesta twists to no avail. “How about you read it to me?”

She hits at his chest again and Cassian laughs. “Fine, I can read it to you, but you should know I’m going to make voices for the characters.”

“I hate you,” she seethes.

Cassian only smiles and kisses at her nose. “I love you, too, Nes.”

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @thewhelk @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08

Two fics in one day? So unlike me.

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian week #nessianweek2021 #nessianweek #vidalinav writes

95 notes · View notes

onyxoverride · 3 years

Note

house husband!zeke, he cooks, always makes you rlly pretty bento’s for you to take to work, keeps the house clean, does the laundry, takes care of the garden, takes your kids to school and picks them up. and most of all, so diligent and obedient in the bedroom, so willing for affection and praise 🥰🥰

coming home to hear his smooth voice is your most favorite part of the day, “Welcome home honey, how was work?”

- 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩nonnie

I love this!!

warnings: dom/sub dynamic but mostly fluff, praise kink-esque on Zekes end, domestic!!

The craving for a simple life is so strong, he wants the picket fence, a dog, and a kid. No, he doesn’t want to just sit at home, he wants to take care of you and the house and everything. He wants you to not worry about anything since he loves you. Plus, you’re the money maker in the household. Your job pays well but it’s exhausting, he can tell. You’ve been working so hard for so long, steady build-ups to promotion after promotion.

He first met you in a coffee shop in a bookstore. You looked so tired but were so sweet and kind to him after he messed up your order. Usually, people in business attire are a bit meaner. He was thankful you even came back, started asking you for your name, how your day is going, next time it was where you work and after that, it was your number. It’s all history and he feels so lucky. You two were perfect for each other, two pieces in a previous thought of as incompatible puzzle.

All of your favorite foods are memorized and practiced within the first year of dating. He wants to be good, yes. But he also wants to be the best. You work, have a stable job, and are amazingly attractive with a good personality -- the feeling of being inadequate nags at the back of his head.

When you come back home and invite him over for dinner you kiss the back of his neck and murmur how thankful you are for him into his neck. He doesn't feel so inadequate anymore, especially when you say that you’re glad he’s separate from your job and corporate life, how he’s your paradise away from the ruckus of life. He’s blushing and just responds with an embarrassed “I love you too.”

When he was trying to figure out how to propose to you and he is the definition of nervous. He wanted it to be casual but magical at the same time. He got a ring custom made, perfect for you. He already has the official ring planned out so your engagement ring can accent them, so you can keep those rings on too after you are married. If you say yes, he remembers. He fixed dinner as he usually does, sits outside near the garden on the patio furniture, next to a little garden he's started. You two have been living together now for at least three years, it’s time to get married, right? You’re ready, right? You already know what he’s doing, you’re observant and have picked up all his nervous ticks, the way he scratches his ear when he’s thinking, and twists at his beard when he’s nervous. He only realizes you know after you two have drank a bottle of wine, a comfortable silence while the moon shines on the two of you. He knows that look, you know what's going to happen, a little expectant. So finally he pulls out a little emerald green velvet box onto the table, nerves making his hands shaky and all he had scripted out to say is gone. He’s stuttering out parts of his script as you put your hand over his, bringing his knuckles to your lips, mumbling “Of course I’ll marry you, Zeke Jaeger.” He’s wiping his thumb over his eyes saying “Fuck, I didn’t want to cry...”

He was surprised that you were excited at the idea of a kid. He thought maybe the responsibility of the little pibble rescue was enough but when he asked your thoughts on kids you gave him a sweet smile a firm kiss on the lips and said: “If they’re yours, then of course.” That left him stuttering for a good few minutes, red blush going down his neck as you giggle at him.

The sex after that was spectacular in his opinion. You usually dominate him, that’s what he likes, but this? You riding him, pulling his hands to your belly saying, “I want your baby, you’ll let me have it won't you?” As much as he wanted to fill you up with cum he had to clench his balls and hold back because he would’ve come embarrassingly early.

You agreed almost every morning before work you two could try to conceive. Even if you don’t cum you give him a sweet kiss after the demands you scratched into his back to finish inside you and say he did a good job.

When you have your kid he cries. He doesn’t mean to sob but your kid is so cute, he can’t even stand because his knees are weak.

He’s sweet to his kid. Nervous at first at being a father because he doesn’t want to end up like his own that left him and started another family. He spoils them, disciplines them when need be but he’s a weak man for his little one's puppy eyes pair with his actual dog's puppy eyes. He loves seeing you play with them, his family. He’s finally achieved his dream. He watches you kiss your child forehead and wake them up every morning before you get to work, he takes over and gets them ready for school, getting a kiss on the forehead himself before you leave. Drives them and picks them up every day from school. Knows his kids' favorite teachers by name.

He keeps the house neat. Right when he comes back from dropping his little one off he drops back into bed, takes a quick nap, and then gets up to clean. It’s not too much usually. He taught his little one to clean up, they learn from observing and want to mimic him and you so it’s quite easy. When he does the laundry he makes sure to fold them immediately right out of the dryer. Refuses to embarrass you with wrinkly clothes.

Goes out to take care of his garden which has flourished over the years. Mint, basil, and other herbs to peppers and tomatoes. Waters them and cares for them as he lets the dog run around the yard. He makes you pretty little lunches out of the ingredients he grows. His heart feels filled when you come home with an empty lunch box and compliment his skills.

Two hours after he picks his kid up from school you are predicted to come home. His kid is happy and fed with a nice snack and already set down for a quick nap. When you open the door he is right in the kitchen waiting for you with a smile, “Welcome home honey,” a quick kiss to your lips, “how was work?” Sometimes it's a simple “good,” because you don’t want to talk about it and sometimes it's a “your lunch was the only good part of my day really” which means he needs to sit down and listen to you complain about work. That’s fine with him even though he’s missing some knowledge of what you’re talking about. Sits his kid on his lap if they’re awake and cuddles them while you speak, your kid asking questions occasionally. Really it’s hilarious how you talk to them like an adult who completely gets what you’re saying. Your kid chiming in saying “That was mean!” and you nodding saying “I know, right!! People are ridiculous sometimes!”

Finally, though, you two get a day to yourself after he asks your neighbor Sasha to take care of his kid for a while, drops them off right after school to be picked up in the morning. Sasha agrees enthusiastically as long as Zeke cooks her something good. Your cute little dog went with them with some bribing to Sasha

He already knows what's up when you get home early, rolling your shoulders and giving him a look, the look. “You’re going to be good for me, right Zeke?” Gets on his knees immediately, kisses your ankles as he takes off your shoes. Massages your calves as you lean back into the couch. Works his way up your thighs, pushing your skirt to your waist and he molds his hands into your thighs. Lives to serve you and be a good boy for you. Tell him, “Use your tongue. Just how I trained you.” and god he will. Your thighs over his shoulders as he devours you, doing just as you asked. Running your fingers through his hair, pulling his face to grind into your wet cunt. “Get me ready for your cock,” all the stress from the week that's built up is washed away with the orgasm he pulls from you.

Pull his face away from your thighs and he licks up as much slick as he can from around his mouth, “Good boy.” The praise sends warm spikes of arousal through him, and you pull him in for a messy kiss, tasting your cum on his face. Sit between his legs right in front of him, chest to chest while you ride him. It’s a soft intimate position which he loves, he lives for this softness and the praise spilling from your mouth. How he’s so good for you, such a good husband, cock filling you out so nicely, you never fail to please me Zeke- and he’s cumming inside you.

You don’t stop there, ride him dry until your thighs give out and then demand him to rut into you like a desperate dog. He will, he’ll follow your every order through and through until you’re both breathless and wrung out.

#♥️.👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩anon #⚫.writing #⚫️.answered #⚫.drabbles #◆.aot #❖.zeke jaeger #zeke x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke fluff #zeke x reader fluff #zeke smut #zeke jaeger smut

118 notes · View notes

illfoandillfie · 3 years

Text

Easy As A-B-C

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x Reader

Summery: Professor Lee is getting sick of marking papers, you offer an alternative. One where he doesn't need to think at all.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected sex, bimbofication (without hypnosis), oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, light dom/sub dynamic, dom!reader, sub!Gwil, overstimulation, maybe a little bit of hair pulling

Words: 4,537

A/N: This was massively massively inspired by my love @dracoladon and her Drarry fic Lucid (seriously, go read it because she’s a much better writer than me and also sex dumb Draco is hhhhhhh). Reading it made me want to write more himbo fics but without all the hypnosis stuff thats in my Future Management series. Then I got talking to @peachydeacon about himbo!Rog which led to talking about himbo!Gwil and this fic is the result of our discussion lmao. It was also partly inspired by a post on a porn blog that popped up on my dash but I can’t link to that because tumblrs dumb.

Also, it is a professor gwil fic but set after reader has graduated so it’s all above board lmao

Blurb Advent: Day 24

Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

Gwilym looked unreasonably hot while he was grading papers, his brow knitted, wearing a look of serious concentration made all the more noticeable by the reading glasses sliding down his nose. His loose tie and the undone top buttons of his business shirt lent him a casually dishevelled air, and that wasn’t even mentioning the way he absentmindedly twisted his pen between his fingers as he read and reread sentences he was struggling to understand, occasionally pausing to underline something or write a note in the margins. It all painted a very sexy image, the kind of serious sexy only a professor could achieve, though this sexiness was nowhere near new. You’d found his manner oddly arousing even when he’d been your professor. Of course, that had been a few years ago and well before you’d had your chance encounter in the local second hand bookstore that led you to ask him out. He’d stuttered out something about never having even thought of you as more than his student and “really I feel almost as if I’ll get in trouble for the conversation as soon as I get back to campus.” But the awkwardness soon changed when you confessed to having had a minor crush on him back in the day and having since hoped to run into him. He seemed more open to the idea of dinner with you after that and, if you were being honest, more cocky too, but cocky in a decidedly dignified and charming way. Anyway, one thing led to another and now here you were somewhere close to a year and half later and you were struggling not to stare at Gwil as he graded papers and looked professor-ally disarrayed and hot.

You knew it was something to do with the Romantic era poets that the students had to write about because he’d read a question out to you earlier to get your opinion of if it was confusingly worded. “No, I don’t think so,” “Then why in god’s name do none of my students get it?” he looked about ready to hit his head against the desk until he passed out but he returned to the topmost paper with a sigh and ruffled hair from where he’d run his hand through it. That’s when you’d started trying not to stare. A tall order when all you could think about was dragging Gwil to the bedroom and ravishing him enough to make him forget all about John Keats and poetry and the English language itself. Not that that was exactly hard. No, Gwilym had a tendency to get a little dazed and confused when you really gave it to him. Sex drunk you’d decided to call it. A transformation that you quite delighted in witnessing and causing. Gwil was sharp as a tack usually, always ready with some obscure fact or quote from literature. It was part of what made him such a good teacher, his memory for all things bookish, as well as his approachable (if a little stern) demeanour and his determination to get the best from his students. But it wasn’t hard to shut down his brain, cloud his memory and entirely befuddle him. One time you’d snuck into the bathroom at the restaurant you’d gone to for dinner and poor Gwilym had become so spaced out he’d spilt half a glass of wine in his lap and then walked into the glass door as you left, even with you leading him by the hand. You supposed that what they said about great power and responsibility was true. All the same, it was a fun power to wield and you knew that, with the right sort of attention, you could have Gwilym babbling incomprehensible gibberish with no memory of what a poem even was, which was surely something he’d appreciate right about now.

You blinked yourself from your reverie as, finally, Gwil set his glasses aside and rose from his seat, groaning as he stretched out the stiffness in his back. He rolled his neck back and forth, your eyes following, before letting his shoulders drop and moving to sit next to you on the couch. “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t read another word about Byron or I’ll loose it.” He sighed, draping an arm around your shoulders and leaning into your neck. “Byron? I remember that assignment. Everyone hated you for it,” His breath was warm against your skin as he spoke, sending a tingle down your spine, “Well if this year’s lot is anything to go by, the feeling was probably mutual,” “Mmm, I remember one girl saying she was going to shove her copy of Don Juan up your arse if she didn’t pass,” He lifted his head again and laughed, “And yet my rectum remains Byron fee and no other injuries befell me, so either I taught you enough to get by or you were all a bunch of cowards,” “Bit of both probably. And why would this year’s be any different, huh?” “I don’t know, you haven’t read any of their attempts at cohesive analysis. Some of them are just throwing out terms like allusion and anapestic and personification all willy-nilly, clearly without properly understanding them. ” “I think you’re being too harsh on them. They’re first years after all and it’s not always easy to understand all that poncy poetical bullshit. Plus, you know it all already so of course everyone else seems stupid to you,” “Maybe,” he conceded, though it seemed to take some effort. “Honestly, someone should put you in their position, see how well you go with it,” “Yeah? And who would do something like that?” Gwilym laughed as you shifted to straddle his lap, accepting the kiss you offered, “You?” “Maybe I will. Spell personification for me,” “You know it’s not high school English, right. We don’t do pop quizzes on spelling and grammar.” “I know you don’t, but this is my subject and I’m testing spelling. Besides,” you let your hand drop between you, brushing lightly over the front of his pants, “I promise it’ll be fun.” Gwil gave a half-hearted eye roll, “P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N, personification. D’you want me to use it in a sentence too?” You knew he’d get it right. Gwil always had been good at spelling off the top of his head which you supposed was a side effect of all his reading and the years devoted to the written word. But it was still a little annoying. Mostly because he was being a bit of a tool about the whole thing, but it didn’t help that you’d grown quite wet thinking about how you’d like to have him, like to turn him into the fucked out airhead you’d seen before. You shook your head and tutted at him as if he got it wrong. “No, that’s definitely it. I’ve just read it about a hundred times, I know I’m right. P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N,” he spelt it faster that time, trying to prove that you were wrong. “Try allusion for me,” “A-L-L-U-S-I-O-N,” Right again. You sighed as if you were disappointed. Gwilym raised his eyebrows but said nothing. “What about caesura?” “C-E-A-S-U-R-A,” The mistake was an easy one to make, two letters flipped around the wrong way, and you could tell he knew it was wrong as soon as he’d said it. He was surprised when you leant forward to kiss him again, cupping his jaw with one hand as you dropped the other and slowly pulled down the zip on his work pants. “But I fucked up,” he said softly, eyes still closed as you pulled away a few centimetres. You just smiled as you thought of a new word, “Anapestic,” It was another word Gwil had mentioned as seeing in his student’s essays so you knew it would be fresh in his mind and he proved as much when he spelt it, “A-N-A-P-E-S-T-I-C,” He was right of course, so you tutted and pulled your hand away from his crotch, grabbing his chin with your other and forcing him to look at you, “You can do better than that.” His features shifted at the sudden loss of contact, the look of concentration returned once more. If anything, your much closer proximity to the expression made him seem all the more hot but you resisted the urge to give in and drag him to the bedroom, curious if he’d catch onto your little game now and, equally so, to see if he’d play along, “Try Onomatopoeia.” A longer word gave him more chances to get things wrong but would his pride and his brain allow that? Apparently so. “O-N-O-M-” Gwil paused and thought for a second, his eyes narrowed as his looked at you, “O-N-O-M-A-T-O-P-I-A,” the last three letters were said with such deliberate diction that you knew he’d figured it out. “Good boy,” you said, letting your hands slip inside his undone pants to massage his dick. His hips jolted at the contact and he let his hands fall to your arse, squeezing. “What about, dactyl?” His reply was instant, unthinking, and totally correct, “D-A-C-T-Y-L,” You clicked your tongue condescendingly as you once again removed your hands from him. “Fuck,” “Well that’s what happens when you get things wrong, honey, and such an easy one too,” “I didn’t get it wro- fine, give me another,” You smiled, unable to hide how delighted you were that he was interested in following your rules, even if it was just his competitive streak rearing its head to show that he could out smart you, “Assonance,” Gwilym spelt the word slowly and carefully, making sure to only say one ‘s’ and to leave off the ‘e’. And you made sure to reward him for it, shuffling backwards on his lap so you could shimmy his pants down his thighs and wrap your hand around his cock. He raised an eyebrow at you but otherwise made no comment as he leant back in his seat to enjoy the attention. “Romanticism,” Once again Gwilym was careful with his spelling, intentionally replacing the ‘c’ with a double ‘s’ but that was the kind of behaviour you wanted to encourage so you kept stroking him off, twisting your wrist, dragging your thumb over his flushed tip. It must have felt good with the way he was sighing, shifting his shoulders as if to move his whole body closer to yours. “So clever baby, what about,” you paused, dredging up memories of poetry analysis and the words you used to have burned into your brain but which you’d not had much use for recently, “Enjambment” “Ummm, E-N,” Gwil hummed as you leant over him and let a trail of spit drip onto his cock, using your hand to spread it over his length, “Enjamb-ment, uh, E-N-J-A- no E, no A, M-E-N-T,” You leant into his ear and spoke softly, “That’s right, being so good for me, so clever. What should I do next though? Ride you? Or maybe suck you off? Or just keep doing this?” “Uh,” Gwilym shook his head a little as if to clear it, “mouth? Please?” “Of course, baby. If you can spell dissonance for me.” You were quietly confident that he’d get the spelling wrong, already noticing the first sign of his impending brainlessness, extra filler words where he’d normally not need them. It was funny though, usually he wouldn’t reach that stage until he was much closer to nutting. “D-I-S” he rushed through the first three letters and then stopped, biting his lip, “T-um, A-N-E-N-C-E.” You were sure the errors in that word were less intentional than the previous few and, as promised, slipped off his lap and settled yourself between his legs, pulling his pants off so he could spread them wider for you. You held eye contact as you let your tongue trail along the underside of his cock, tracing along a vein, though you couldn’t help but smile as he groaned above you. “Can you spell Decasyllable for me?” you asked before closing your lips around the head of his cock. “What? Oh, um, D-E-C-K- fuck,” he broke off as you swirled your tongue around his tip. “Fuck’s not a letter, baby,” you sank down on him again, bobbing a little lower. “I know, um, Deck-syllable, D-E-C-K-A-S-Y-B-L-E, I think. Is that right?” In answer you hummed and took him a little deeper, pushing his shirt up towards his chest. Gwilym took the hint and pulled it off before he grabbed your hair, leaning his head against the back of the couch. For a moment you just focused on sucking him off, listening to his shallow breathing and whiny groans. But you weren’t finished with your game yet.

“Epigraph?” you asked before bobbing down on him again, pushing yourself to take him deeper still. Gwilym remained silent as you gagged and pulled back from him again to breath freely. “Well?” “What did you say?” “Epigraph. Can you spell that?” He nodded as you resumed your bobbing, his hand grabbing at your hair, “E-P-P-E-G-R-A-F-F.” You hummed around him and his hips bucked up, pushing him further down your throat for a second. “No, don’t stop,” he whined under his breath as once again you let him fall from between your lips. “Sorry baby,” you wrapped your hand around his base and switched back to jerking him off, “you’re so hard though and I know you want to earn your orgasm like a good boy,” Gwilym nodded. “Okay, so spell meter,” “M- oh, I don’t know,” “You do know, baby, you just gotta try. Meter,” He scrunched his face up in thought, “M-E-E-T-R,” “See, I said you knew it, and you did it so well!” Gwilym gave you a dopey smile, looking proud at your praise, “I did?” His mouth dropped open with the movement of your hand. “Of course baby! You got it completely right because you’re so clever. What about sonnet, do you think you can do that one for me?” He nodded enthusiastically, “S-N-E-T,” “Very good! Okay, three more and I’ll let you cum,” “Okay!” “Okay, what about,” you thought for a moment, watching your hand pumping over his shaft as you trailed your fingernails lightly over his thigh, “Spell rhyme,” “Ummm,” Gwilym bit his lip in thought, soft grunting noises rising in his throat in time with your strokes. “It’s a bit of a tricky one,” “Yeah.” “And it’s hard to concentrate isn’t it?” “Mmhmm, so hard to con-ten-tate,” he thought for a little longer as you slowed your hand, “rrr- R-I-M,” “So clever baby! Okay canto,” “Oh! Ummm,” Gwilym pouted and whined as you unexpectedly drew the tip of your tongue around his head, “I don’ know,” “No?” He shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay what about, poem?” Gwilym seemed to have reached the last dregs of his knowledge, grunting in frustration as he shook his head again.” “You sure you don’t know?” He bucked his hips up into your hand as he shook his head again. “Alright, I’ll give you an easy one then. Spell your name for me, spell Gwilym,” Gwil’s eyes lit up at the suggestion but his face quickly slipped into a frown again, the expression getting more pronounced with every passing second he didn’t say anything. He sought out your face, his eyes brimming with frustrated tears, “I don’t…” his fists balled up as he looked to you for help. “You don’t remember?” He shook his head once more, a tear shaking loose and rolling down his cheek, “you said it was easy.” “It’s okay if you don’t know,” “Really?” he sniffled. “Of course it’s okay. You’re not supposed to know things.” “I’m not?” “Awww, of course not baby. That’s why I’m here, to know things, and you’re just here to make me happy.” Gwilym sighed and leaned back against the couch, smiling again. “Do you want to give it a try for me?” “Umm,” he whined as you slowed your strokes “It would make me very happy,” “Okay, umm…G? L? ummmm, M?” “You’re so clever, baby!” Gwilym giggled proudly and grinned at you as you adjusted your grip on his cock. “You’re my good, smart boy, aren’t you baby?” “Mmhmm,” he bucked his hips towards you as you took him into your mouth again. “Feels go-od,” he mumbled, almost panting with how close he was. You dragged the hand that rested on his thigh up to cup his balls as you sucked on his tip until he moaned and came, spilling his seed over your tongue.

You kept working your hand along his length, even after you’d pulled your mouth from him. “Was that a good orgasm baby? Did it make you feel good?” He nodded, pouting a little as you kept wanking him, “good oggsam,” It took all your effort not to laugh at that, biting on the inside of your cheek to keep from letting so much as a chuckle slip. Very few things delighted you as much as when Gwil forgot how to talk properly. “You know,” you said as you finally let his cock free, “sometimes when people have orgasms they feel euphoric. Do you feel euphoric?” “Mmhmm, you-porik.” “Clever boy. Do you want to help me feel euphoric?” “How?” “With your mouth,” “Oh! Okay!” You braced yourself against his knees as you stood, leaning forward to give Gwil a small kiss on the lips. He closed his eyes and smiled up at you contentedly as you shimmied out of your own clothes, dropping them all to the floor. “You going to let me lie down?” you asked, tapping Gwil on the shoulder. He looked around confusedly for a moment before his eyes settled on you, growing wider as he realised how naked you were. Without warning he surged forward, his hands grabbing your arse as he nuzzled his face in the valley between your breasts. If it were up to Gwil he would have stayed there all day but you had need for him elsewhere so you yanked his head back by his hair, earning a small noise of displeasure. “Don’t complain, baby. You want to make me feel euphoric, right?” “Mmhmm,” he hummed earnestly. “And how do you think you could do that?” “I don’t know,” “Maybe, cunnilingus?” “cun-un-un-un-gus,” “Exactly,” you directed his gaze down to your pussy, failing to hide your amused grin. But he was too far gone to notice, happily slipping to his knees in front of you. Telling him to wait for a second, you climbed onto the couch and spread your legs, beckoning him between them once you were comfortable.

He hadn’t been able to say the word but that didn’t mean he wasn’t skilled at the act. A string of soft hums and throaty sounds rose to your lips as he licked your cunt, the scratchy sensation of his beard only amplifying the soft, wet, warmth of his tongue. “Can you, oh, can you spell poem for me baby?” Gwilym hummed and then started naming letters, his mouth still pressed against your cunt as if he didn’t realise he couldn’t talk and suck at the same time. You didn’t bother to stop him when he said too many letters or correct him when all of them were wrong. You just let his breath wash over you, his tongue flicking against your clit with each new letter, eliciting longer moans and sighs from you. “Fuck Gwil,” you panted, “keep going,” “Keep going,” he repeated, his voice muffled as he dragged his tongue all the way down your slit and then back up again, making you whine. You jolted when he reached your clit again and pressed against his head, keeping him close to you, your other hand trailing up your chest to tweak your nipples and knead your breasts. Occasionally you’d give him an instruction – “faster please,” or “do that again,” or “fuck Gwil, right there,” – and he’d repeat the words back to you, softened and often a little slurred together or mispronounced, before doing as he was asked, drawing you closer to release. He was pleased whenever another groan or mewl slipped from your lips, responding to them with sounds of his own as if he were savouring a particularly delicious meal. It seemed he’d taken what you’d said about making you happy to heart, though some of his whines might have had more to do with his cock, hard again and straining to be touched as his attention remained focused on you. “I’m c-lose ba-by,” you grunted as Gwilym pressed his mouth to your lower lips, as if to give you a soft chaste kiss, only to begin shaking his head side to side, rubbing his face against your cunt. “loase,” he muttered to himself, trailing his tongue back up to your clit, making you grind your hips up into him. It was impossible to keep your mouth shut in the face of such a feeling, wantonly moaning as you felt your orgasm bubbling to the surface. Gwilym hummed against you in response to a particularly loud moan which managed to be your undoing, your knees trying to clamp shut around his head as he continued to suck at your clit.

When you calmed enough to let go of his hair and loosen your thighs from around his ears, Gwilym looked up at you. His face was shiny and wet but he seemed to have regained some of his usual awareness. His eyes weren’t quite as vacant and his smile less dopey than it had been. “Feel good?” he asked, sounding almost normal except for a slight lightness in his tone. “Very good baby,” you leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips, tasting yourself as he opened his mouth and accepted your tongue. Slowly you dropped your hand between you, finding his cock again, not quite done with your brainless toy. He grunted against your lips and bucked into your hand as you stopped his return to sense. “Isn’t this fun?” you said softly as you pulled back, holding Gwil by the chin to stop him from trying to follow. “Yeah, fun,” a smile slowly tugging at his lips, “what is?” “Not needing to think, baby,” “Oh! Yes,” he laughed. “You’re too pretty to have a brain anyway, aren’t you? Much better off letting it leak out of your head,” “Mmhmm, much,” “And do you know what good, dumb boys get?” “No?” “They get fucked. Would you like that?” “Yes yes yes,” “Alright, lie back for me,” you chuckled, giving his cock a final stroke. Gwilym settled on the carpet on his back, grinning as you straddled his lap. Silently he held out his hand, all but two of his fingers folded against his palm. “No, I don’t need your fingers sweetie,” you said, giving the tips of his two fingers a light kiss, “as dextrous as they are and as much as I enjoy them, I think I’m okay skipping straight to your cock,” He nodded, letting you place his hand down on the floor again. You watched his face as you slowly sank down onto him, once again the picture of cunt drunk bliss with glazed eyes and his lip between his teeth. He smiled as you leaned down to kiss him, rolling your hips against his slowly. As you tongues entwined again, Gwilym framed your waist with his hands, slowly dragging them up your sides and onto your chest. He cupped each of your breasts in one of his palms, squeezing softly as you rocked forward and back. “Better than Byron isn’t this?” you asked, pushing yourself up a bit, but not so far you couldn’t kiss him again. “Wha’s Byron?” You laughed, “Y’know I think this might be the dumbest I’ve seen you. Can’t believe all it took was a rigged spelling test. He obviously didn’t understand, staring blankly back at you.

What he did understand was that you were moving further away from him and he whined as you pushed yourself to sit higher again, bracing your hands on his chest as you used your knees to raise and lower yourself. It still wasn’t enough though so you shifted again before too long, placing a hand behind you to grab Gwil’s leg. You leant back on it changing the angle of Gwilym’s cock, and felt his hands drop from your chest, no longer able to reach as easily. They came to rest on your leg, his fingertips digging into your skin as you rode him, keening as you felt the start of your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. “Fuck Gwil, fill me so well, feels so good,” “My dex-ik-tus cock?” You couldn’t help but laugh, taken by surprise at his misunderstanding and mispronunciation of dextrous, but you nodded in agreement too, repeating your sentiments about how good it felt. “Wanna make me feel even better?” “How?” You sat forward again and reached for his hand, pulling it to your clit. Gwilym took the hint, messily rubbing as you bounced on his cock, but his whines and moans only grew as you rode him. “You’re close?” “Mmhmm,” You were on the verge of asking if he could hold it when he came with a groan, pulsing inside you. But you didn’t stop. “I’m close too, baby, so I’m gonna keep fucking you, okay?” He nodded, eyes fixed on you. “Good boy.” You panted, grabbing his wrist to hold his hand at your clit and adjusting your rhythm. Each time you sank back down onto him you did it harder, slamming his cock into you as deep as you could manage, groaning with each one. Your orgasm was frustratingly close but Gwilym was becoming steadily more sensitive as his subsided, wincing more with each of your thrusts. The winces turned to whimpers which turned to whines as you whispered that you were so close. “Almost baby, almost,” “Please. Hur’s,” “Nearly, just. One. More,” you threw your head back with a moan as you finally found your release, Gwil whining when you pulsed around him, a fresh tear running from the corner of his eye onto the carpet as he squirmed under you.

“Sorry, baby,” you said softly as you carefully dismounted him. He hummed as you kissed him again, leaving an extra kiss against the tip of his nose. “Did so well, such a good boy for me,” “Yeah?” “Mmhmm, so good,” He gave you a slightly watery smile and let you pull him into a cuddle, sighing contentedly when you brushed your fingers through his hair. You stayed like that for a while, knowing that later you’d regret lying on the floor for so long but unable to find the energy to move or the willpower to tell Gwilym you had to let him go. He gradually lost the fucked out expression, becoming more aware of his surroundings and more capable of clear speech. “How are you feeling?” you asked when you realised he’d blinked away the last of his sex drunk vacancy. “Better than before. Little tired but much more relaxed and very satisfied. And, before you ask, yes that’s satisfied and yes I can spell it if you want,” “I believe you.”

#my writing #my fics #smut fic #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee smut #gwilym lee imagine #this has been half written in my drafts for much too long now #but im very happy to be able to finally post it!#just got one more thing to write for this advent countdown #which i'll try and knock off after i get back from church #so that its ready to go in the morning #anyway #hope ya'll like this #i might kind of love writing pretty dumb boys #blurb advent 2020

117 notes · View notes

svtwritess · 4 years

Text

Chapter 5

ღ word count: 8.2k

ღ genres: fluff, (heavy-ish) angst, smut (there’s actually some in this chapter finally sry for the wait <3)

ღ pairing: wonwoo x female reader, mingyu x female reader

ღ college!au, vampire!au

ღ warnings: mentions of food, vampire stuff, oral (m & f recieving)

“He came up to you?”

“Yes!” you nearly yelled into the phone. You’d called Mingyu the second you left the grocery store. “He said he remembered me and that if I needed anything I should ask him, but it didn’t seem like he was talking about groceries.” you told him nervously as you walked home as quickly as possible.

“If it’s not too much to ask please try not to go there alone. Or just… go to a different grocery store or something.” you could hear the frustration in his voice and even though you didn’t know why he had an issue with Jun, you felt bad that he was so worried.

“Mingyu, is he a, you know…” you didn’t want to say the word out loud, just in case people heard you and thought you were half out of your mind.

“A vampire?”

“Yeah.”

Mingyu let out a long breath. “Yeah, he is…”

“Okay, that makes a lot more sense then. I was already planning on it, but I’ll steer clear of him, I promise.” you nodded in understanding, even though Mingyu couldn’t see you.

“Thank you.” he sighed in relief. You smiled at the fact that you were able to lift even the lightest weight off of his shoulders.

“I’m home now so I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow?” you asked as you unlocked your door.

“For sure, with a coffee in hand.” you smiled at his response and ended the call before entering your apartment, closing and locking the door behind you.

You placed the few bags you had on the counter and took the items you’d bought out of them. You put the food in the refrigerator and everything else in the cabinet under the sink. As you were collecting the bags to put them away, you heard Wonwoo’s door open. You closed your eyes and sighed, not exactly sure how the interaction was going to go.

“You’re finally home,” he said, his tone difficult to read.

“Yep.” you replied, tossing the grocery bags in the pantry and beginning the walk to your room. You brushed past Wonwoo, avoiding eye contact, but he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Listen, I’m sorry.” he said quietly and you nearly rolled your eyes.

“There would be nothing to be sorry for if you had just warned me or something.” you said, annoyance in your voice as you turned to face him.

“Well we agreed not to talk about that stuff, so I didn’t know where the line was,” he shrugged, letting go of you.

“Think about it this way.” you crossed your arms, “Would you rather say something as vague as ‘hey I think you should try and find another place to stay tonight I’m doing something at home’ or me walk in on you having sex? Which one do you think is the better option? Honestly?” your words caused Wonwoo to let out a sigh as he rubbed his face with his hands.

“Look I made a mistake and I apologized. I’m sorry it happened, really, so why are you still upset?” he seemed tired and a little frustrated, but it almost seemed like he was more angry with himself than with you.

“Because you could do better than that girl from the coffee shop! I don’t know why you’re wasting your time.” you muttered as you pulled away from his grasp and finished the walk to your room.

“Y/N!” Wonwoo yelled as he followed you. You went to close your door, but his hand stopped it, pulling it back open. “Do you know how annoying it is? Watching you go through guys that aren’t good enough for you?”

“Wonwoo what are you talking about?” you slightly raised your voice as you turned to face him.

“All the guys you had crushes on that didn’t like you back? Do you know how much it sucked hearing you complain about them so much when they weren’t even worth your time in the first place?” he explained, anger evident in his tone. “How much I hated knowing that you were fucking my best friend for half of high school? The way he would talk about you sometimes was like you weren’t even a person, I hated it. And now this Mingyu guy who made a move while you were moving in? How desperate can he be?!” he vented loudly, running his hands through his hair. He let out a frustrated breath as he looked at you expectantly, awaiting your response.

“I-” you really didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know you felt that way.” you stood there awkwardly as you looked at the floor, a pained look on your face.

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s my fault for keeping it to myself.” he leaned against the wall by your door and looked at the ceiling.

You further contemplated what to say. You didn’t know he had been holding so much inside of him or how he did it for so long. You never had the chance to feel that way toward him because this was basically the first time he’d been with anyone romantically and you hated it, so you couldn’t imagine how he felt.

“Why do you think…” you started nervously, “it bothers you so much?”

The window for him to confess was wide open now, you just wondered if he would do it.

“I think we both know the answer to that,” he looked at you, “But clearly that’s not gonna happen, so what’s the point in waiting around, right?” he said as he turned to leave your room.

“What’s not gonna happen?” you asked hurriedly, taking a step toward him. He looked back at you over his shoulder.

“This,” he motioned between the two of you, “us. I know how you feel and it’s fine, I’ll get over it.” he shrugged and finally exited your room, shutting the door behind him.

You just stood there, face blank as you tried to process everything your best friend had just admitted to you. He had feelings for you? You weren’t particularly surprised, specifically because of everything he prefaced his confession with. How did he not snap sooner? You would’ve been miserable if you were in his position.

You buried your face in your hands, rubbing your temples before grabbing your phone out of the bag that was still on your shoulder. You tossed your purse on the floor as you fell on your bed, tears starting to fill your eyes. You couldn’t talk to Mingyu about this, but you knew there was only one other person that you’d feel even remotely comfortable talking to about the situation. You went to your contacts and selected their name, the phone only ringing a few times before they picked up.

“Y/N?”

“Joshua?” you sniffled, a tear rolling down your face and onto your bed.

“Are you okay?” he inquired, sounding concerned.

“No.” you chuckled, still barely having comprehended everything.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his sweet voice calming you down slightly.

“Wonwoo kind of… told me that he likes me. Did you know?”

“Wow,” Joshua let out a breathy laugh, “I’m surprised he waited ‘till now to tell you. After we stopped hooking up I asked him if he was into you, because it seemed like he was, and he said yes.” he said casually. You sat up and ran a hand through your hair.

“God I feel horrible,” you wiped a tear off of your cheek, “what do you think I should do?” you asked as you were truly, completely lost.

“Well my instinct says you should just date him since he’s been into you for so long, but I know it’s not that easy. He told me you’ve been seeing this guy he doesn’t like, is that true?”

“Yeah… it’s just weird because I really like him, but if I didn’t like Wonwoo, why would I be so upset about the fact that he’s seeing someone?” you asked him, hoping he would be able to tell you since you couldn’t seem to figure out the answer yourself.

“Y/N, I hate to break it to you, but it’s possible to like two people at once, so you might be caught in a dilemma here.” he replied and you groaned, flopping back down on your bed.

“Well this sucks,” you said and he laughed a little.

“Just do whatever feels right, you have good judgement.” he told you, causing you to smile slightly.

“Thanks, I try.”

“It’s good to hear from you, Y/N,” Joshua said genuinely, “And if things don’t work out with either of them, you know where to find me.” he joked… or at least you thought he was joking.

“Thanks Josh. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Sounds good.” he said contently and you both said goodbye before ending the call.

You laid still on your bed, completely unsure of what to do as you tossed your phone beside you. How were you supposed to live with Wonwoo without things being completely awkward? Unless you dated him, but was that what you wanted? You didn’t want to leave Mingyu by any means… Wonwoo would get over it right? He said he would and he was already starting the process; you prayed that that would be enough.

You picked up your phone again and saw that Wonwoo had texted you.

from: wonu

1:21pm: leaving for the night, see you tomorrow

You sighed for what felt like the 100th time that night. You didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable in his own home because of you, so you decided that you would sit down with him and talk it out tomorrow. Even if it ended with remaining just friends, you wanted to give him some form of closure.

You got a little bit of your shit together and decided to go on one of those job finding websites, beginning your much needed search for employment. You created your account, creating a resume and providing the site with the information they required. When you were done, you searched keywords for jobs that didn’t sound completely grueling, like “bookstore” and “receptionist” and even “librarian”. Most of them required some kind of prior experience, but you submitted your resume to the ones that didn’t. The site even recommended a couple of jobs to you as well, based on what you had searched, so you applied to a few of those just for the hell of it.

You closed the web browser and went to scroll through an app on your phone when you heard a long, very unsettling gurgling noise come from your stomach. The fact that you hadn’t eaten all day smacked you in the face and you forced yourself to get out of bed.

As you padded to the kitchen, you knew exactly what you were going to make yourself. You’d bought some noodles, pasta sauce, and parmesan cheese for the house and though it was simple, it was filling, and in your opinion, delicious.

You played some music on your phone, dancing around a little as you waited for the noodles to cook. You stirred them every once and a while, making sure the water didn’t boil over. When they were almost done, you put some of the sauce in a bowl and heated it up in the microwave. Once the timer went off, you turned the stovetop off and removed the pot of noodles from the eye it was on. After straining them, you transferred the noodles to the same bowl as the sauce and doused everything in parmesan cheese.

You decided to watch a movie that you knew Wonwoo would never be interested in, deciding to take advantage of the fact that he (sadly) wasn’t there. Even though you were usually okay with being by yourself, for some reason you felt quite lonely. Maybe it was because you had found someone besides Wonwoo that you actually enjoyed spending time around, and it definitely helped that that someone was extremely attractive and very interested in you.

You didn’t want to annoy him, but you found yourself wanting to be around Mingyu more and more. You’d always just assumed that he had a life outside of you, but honestly, you weren’t so sure anymore. It wasn’t by any means a bad thing, you had far less of a life than he did, you just hoped that he wanted to spend more time together just as you did.

You picked up your phone and unlocked it, finding Mingyu’s contact and pressing the call button.

“Why hello, miss me already?” you could hear him smirking.

“Actually yes,” you admitted, “Can you blame me?”

“Not at all… I was just thinking about you myself.”

“Ooooh, do I get to know what about?” you asked, smiling to yourself at his words. You loved that he was comfortable enough to admit something like that to you.

“I’m afraid that’s gonna have to stay between me and the higher power babe,” he chuckled and you blushed at the nickname. He had never called you that before. “What’s up?”

You hesitated for a moment. “Do you think you could come over tonight? Wonwoo’s gone for the night so I thought it would be nice, but if you’re busy…”

“I’m helping Chan study for a test he has tomorrow, but I’ll be over as soon as we’re done. I promise.”

“See you then,” you bit your lip excitedly and ended the call.

You thought that maybe you should, no…. well? Maybe it wasn’t that crazy of an idea. Would wearing something kind of obviously sexy be too much? What if he was more in the mood than you were and then things got awkward? Or vice versa? You knew he wouldn’t push you to do anything you didn’t want to do, but you also didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. It felt like a stupid thing to be worrying about, but admittedly you were a bit tired of just kissing, and moving to ~the next step~ was pretty nerve wracking.

You paused the movie you were watching and walked into your room, letting out a deep breath and continuously trying to convince yourself that you weren’t being ridiculous. You opened your underwear drawer and dug to the bottom of it, fishing out the sexiest pair you had that you’d only ever worn for you and you alone. You found the bra that matched it and tossed them on your bed, removing the clothes you were wearing before putting them on. You realized the black matching set was surprisingly comfortable as you contemplated what else to wear during his visit.

You looked through your drawers, quickly realizing that sexy loungewear wasn’t something you owned, and decided to simply wear a large t-shirt that your father had given you a few years ago because it didn’t fit him. It wasn’t particularly sexy in itself, but it sent the right message.

You padded back into the living room and plopped back down on the couch, awaiting Mingyu’s arrival. As the movie played, you checked your email to see if any of the jobs you’d applied to had gotten back to you, but as you’d only submitted your applications a little over an hour ago, you had no responses.

You sighed and tapped your foot impatiently against the floor, leaning your head back to rest on top of the couch. You listened to the movie with your eyes closed, nearly drifting off to sleep when finally, right as the movie ended, there was a knock at your door.

You jumped up excitedly, a smile as your face as you ran over to the door and nearly threw it open.

“Hi,” Mingyu said, taking in your only partially covered form. You bit your lip and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He smiled against your lips and wrapped his arms around your waist instinctively, pressing your bodies together.

“I missed you,” you said quietly into the kiss, gently biting down on his lower lip. He nearly growled at the action, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth as he moved his hands to grip your hips.

“You just saw me a few hours ago,” he grunted, one of his hands moving down your body and grabbing your ass eagerly. His kisses were sloppy and his lips soft, making it impossible to focus on anything other than him. The way his tongue ran against yours went straight to your core, warmth taking over your body.

“Well you’re just as excited as I am,” you breathed out between kisses, “so what does that mean?”

Mingyu pulled away from you and rested his forehead on yours, both of you breathing a bit heavier than normal. He smiled before pecking your lips one last time and pulling away from you.

“I would say it means I can’t get enough of you,” he replied, pecking your forehead then prancing over to your couch. You stood there for a moment, blushing slightly and trying to comprehend his cheesy comment.

“Touché,” you smiled as you turned around. Mingyu was sitting on your couch, man spreading like no other, though you didn’t mind yet as you weren’t sitting next to him.

“So where’d Wonwoo go?” he asked casually, fingers woven together behind his head, supporting it as he sat. You felt your heart fall into your stomach. How do I avoid this? You wondered. Should I even avoid this?

“He, uh, just got upset with me and wanted to take a night to clear his head, that’s all…” you trailed off, avoiding eye contact as you took a spot next to him on the couch. He turned his head to look at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“He got mad enough to leave? That must’ve been bad… do you wanna talk about it?” he offered, placing one of his hands on your thigh. You looked at him with a soft smile and shook your head.

“Not right now, maybe another time though,” you told him and he nodded in understanding. You leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, “thank you.”

“Anytime,” he patted your leg and pecked your lips before standing up to go to the kitchen. You reveled in the fact that you both trusted each other so much. He had his secrets and you had yours, and it made you a bit nervous, but he’d given you no reason to believe that he’d ever deceive you.

“Are you-” you began asking him as he looked in one of your cabinets, when suddenly a very dark thought dawned on you.

Vampires don’t eat… they drink.

“Y/N?” Mingyu’s voice shook you out of your thoughts, though your eyes were still glued to the floor and your mouth was still hanging open in sudden realization.

“I’ve only seen you eat, what, once?” you said quietly as you looked up at him, “because you don’t need to eat...”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he walked over to you. He sat down on the floor in front of you and put his hands on your knees, looking into your eyes meaningfully.

“I hate this part, everyone always reacts so differently…” he gently, though nervously, ran his hands up and down your thighs, “What do you wanna know?” His voice was soft and calm, but slightly reluctant.

“I-I mean… you drink blood, right?” you asked hesitantly, again unable to believe that you were having such a conversation in real life.

“Yeah.” he replied casually, causing you to look at him confusedly.

“So do you have to… kill anyone to do it?” you twiddled your fingers.

“Well when I first turned I did, no one knows how to act the first week of being a vampire. You’re suddenly so powerful that you feel like you can do anything, so you do…” he looked at his hands, reminiscing on past choices he clearly regretted. “Draining someone is the most satisfying way to feed, but it’s messy and brutal and just… wrong, so I haven’t done it in decades.”

“So then what do you do?” you asked. You knew you should be scared, maybe disgusted even, but it wasn’t your place to judge. You had no idea what it would be like to be in his position, the things he must’ve felt, the urges he must’ve had… it couldn’t have been easy. Besides, it was 2 centuries ago. You knew he was a different person now than he was then, so if he says he hasn’t... killed anyone in a long, long while, you believed him.

“Personally, I feed on animals. I leave them alive as often as possible,” you winced at the ‘as often as possible’ part. “It’s not very filling, but it’s the safest way to do it. Sometimes Jeonghan will feed on people, on the hook ups he brings home, but he always leaves them alive and…” he hesitated for a moment, “wipes their memory after.” your jaw was on the floor and your eyes nearly fell out of your head.

“You can do that?!” you exclaimed. Mingyu chuckled lightly, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but it’s not that easy. You have to have the blood of the vampire who’s trying to wipe your memory in your system for it to work, so it’s usually not worth it.” he explained, and you were still completely astonished.

“How does he-”

“It only takes a drop, so usually he’ll put it in their drink or something. I think sometimes they even do it willingly.” he told you and you looked at him in disbelief. “I don’t know what kind of people Jeonghan hooks up with.” he shrugged.

“What about Vernon? And Chan, he just turned didn’t he? Did he feed on people?” you asked, suddenly completely immersed in the topic.

“Chan was the same way I was when I first turned, totally insatiable. I wouldn’t let him feed on people ‘cause I knew he’d go too far, so I snuck blood out of hospitals, donation trucks, anywhere I could really. And Vernon… Well Vernon’s the lucky one. Seungkwan lets him feed off of him basically whenever he needs to, and he has great self control, so it’s really not an issue.” he explained to you, nodding as he finished.

“Wow,” you tried to take it all in, “how come you ate with me then? That time you made ramen?”

“Well we can eat, it just basically does nothing for us in terms of stopping us from being hungry or keeping us “alive”, so it’s mostly recreational.” he used air quotes, helping you make sense of things. Questions would not stop coming into your head.

“Wait, so… do you poop?” you asked in all seriousness, though MIngyu threw his head back with laughter.

“Okay I think that’s enough question and answer for today,” he patted your knee and stood up, heading back into the kitchen. You pouted, genuinely unsure of how a vampire’s digestive system worked, but you decided to let it go.

You admired Mingyu’s frame as he grabbed a glass from the cabinet in front of him, then reached over to open the freezer.

“Did you say that Seungkwan lets Vernon… feed on him?” you inquired as a thought popped into your head.

“Yeah, why?” Mingyu replied as he popped ice cubes out of your ice cube tray.

“Well,” you began as you stood up, making your way over to him, “how good would you say your self control is?”

“I don’t know,” he chuckled, “depends on the situation.” He refilled the tray and put it back in the freezer before grabbing the gallon of water you kept in the refrigerator.

“What if I told you,” you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind as he opened the jug, “that we could try something like that if you wanted to?”

“Try something like what?” he asked as he began pouring the water.

“You… feeding on me.”

Mingyu didn’t respond. You were scared you’d offended him or something, though after a silence that was much too long, you heard water flowing over the cup, and soon it was on the floor.

“Mingyu!” you exclaimed as you stepped backward, the cold water nearly touching your feet. You heard him mutter a few curse words under his breath before setting the jug upright and nearly lunging for the paper towels.

“Sorry, I-, shit, I’m sorry.” he stumbled on his words as he unraveled the paper towels, ripping off a large portion and cleaning up the water he’d spilt on the counter.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked, though there was no trace of anger in your voice, just confusion. You grabbed some paper towels yourself and began wiping up the water on the floor.

“You just… surprised me, is all.” he replied, walking past you to throw his now drenched paper towels away. After the floor was dry again, you followed suit, throwing the damp sheets away before standing next to him. He had his hands pressed to the edge of the counter and was leaning on them, his head looking down at the floor.

“I-I’m sorry if I-”

“God, no,” he stopped you, “don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything, it’s just that… no one’s ever really offered me that before.” he looked over at you, his eyes soft and full of warmth.

“With how long you’ve been alive and how hot you are? I find that hard to believe.” you said playfully, reaching over to rub small, comforting circles into his back.

“I’m serious!” he giggled, looking back down at the ground. Your smile faded, realizing he didn’t believe your words to be true.

“So am I,” you stepped in front of him and looked into his eyes. “I meant it, but if you don’t want to then I’m not gonna force you.” He slowly stood up straight and cupped your face with both of his hands, tilting your head so you were looking up at him.

“You trust me that much?” he asked and you nodded. “And you’re sure about this?” you nodded once more. Mingyu leaned down as if he was going to kiss you, but stopped right in front of your lips. “I think,” he pecked your lips as gently as ever, “I’m in love with you.”

You felt your heart swell in your chest and your cheeks flare up with heat, smiling even though your face was still encompassed by Mingyu’s hands.

“So soon?!” you asked, not even bothering to try and contain your excitement. He laughed at you, releasing you from his grip and turning to grab his cup.

“Hey, I said I think,” he smirked before taking a sip of water. Your eyes wandered to the floor, and your mind to the events that happened just moments earlier when he walked through the door. Your playful manner suddenly dissipated as you remembered how his hands felt on your body, how his lips felt against yours.

“Then why did you stop?” you asked quietly.

“Stop what?” he looked at you, clearly confused as he set it glass back on the counter.

“You know, when you got here... and I basically threw myself at you…” you eluded, trying to get him to understand.

“Yeeeah?” he looked at you, everything you were implying going completely over his head. You rolled your eyes and scoffed.

“I’m not dressed like this,” you motioned to your ‘outfit’, “for no reason!”

Mingyu chuckled. “I figured that’s just what you wear around the house!” He defended himself.

“With no pants on? When I knew you were coming over?” you questioned, arms crossed. He simply nodded as if he was stating the obvious. You sighed defeatedly as you walked away from him.

“For a man who’s been alive for over 200 years you sure can be clueless sometimes!” you yelled as you opened the door to your room, heading for your bed.

Before you knew it, Mingyu was bursting through the door frame and picking you up. He threw your back down on the bed as you laughed, bouncing up and down slightly before he climbed on top of you.

“You think I’m clueless huh?” he asked, his tone and facial expression totally serious. Your smile instantly faded, eyes widening at his demeanor and the sudden close proximities of your bodies. You went to reply, but he spoke again. “Think I didn’t wanna rip this thing off you the second I saw you?”

He crashed his lips to yours as he lifted your leg up so it was bent at the knee before running his hand up your thigh and tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“Then why didn’t you?” you asked against his lips, running your hands through his hair as he caressed your side.

“Cause I didn’t wanna be wrong,” he moved his lips down to kiss your neck, a moan escaping your lips as the warmth of his mouth encapsulated your skin, “but now I know I wasn’t.” he kissed along your jaw, his tongue swiping across your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.

You reached forward and began pulling Mingyu’s shirt up, causing him to pull away from you and take it off. He looked down at you, your shirt having ridden up to just underneath your breasts.

“What are these?” he asked, a smug expression taking over his features as he ran his thumb along the top of your underwear. You smirked up at him, glad that your plan was working.

“Oh, nothing,” you replied as you confidently pulled your shirt the rest of the way off.

“Oh my god,” Mingyu groaned, throwing his head back before taking in the sight before him that he could not believe he was lucky enough to be seeing. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he said in a low voice as he returned to kissing you. He was rough and passionate, teeth nearly clashing together as he ground his hardening member against your clothed core.

“Mingyu,” you moaned lightly as you gently pulled his face away from yours, “I wanna try something.” he nodded at your words and you pushed him off of you.

“Sit,” you directed as you motioned toward the top of your bed. He looked at you curiously, but obliged and sat with his back against your headboard. You climbed onto his lap, legs on either side of his waist. He looked at you, admiration in his eyes as he ran his hands down your sides and over your hips.

“I like this,” he stated happily and you smiled, pulling him toward you and reconnecting your lips. Your tongue ran across his bottom lip, his hands moving down to your ass, grabbing it as he inhaled sharply. “God you’re amazing,” he breathed against your lips..

“We haven’t even gotten to the good part,” you said, your voice sultry as you began kissing his neck, leaving a hickey here and there. Whimpers left his mouth as you kissed him, grinding yourself down on his crotch. His hard cock rubbed against your clit perfectly, your underwear dampening. He moved his hands up and unclasped your bra with ease, tossing it on the floor. He groped your breasts with vigor, loving the feeling of your breasts in his hands. Your skin was on fire and his cool hands felt amazing against your nipples

You begrudgingly took his hands off of your breasts and began kissing down his body, your hand moving to palm him through his pants. He let out a low moan, the combination of your mouth on him and your hand palming him feeling better than he could’ve imagined.

Once you reached the band of his underwear, you pulled his pants down his legs and tossed them aside. You placed your hands on his hips as you ran your tongue along his clothed member, placing light kisses along it as he moaned beneath you.

“Y/N please…” he begged breathlessly, eyes closed with his head leaning against your headboard. You smiled at his desperation and slowly removed his underwear before throwing it to where his pants were. You turned back toward him and stared at his member in front of you… he was… gigantic? You swallowed your pride, though you were worried that he may be too much for you to handle.

Instead of letting your insecurity show, you licked a long, slow stripe up his shaft, a guttural moan falling from Mingyu’s lips. You swirled your tongue around his tip, collecting the precum that threatened to fall from it. He let out a shaky breath and you looked up at him. His eyelids were heavy, but his eyes were on you, his chest falling up and down in a quick rhythm. You smirked at his fucked-out state and took as much of him as you could in your mouth, nearly gagging when his tip reached the back of your throat.

“Y/N…” he whimpered, causing you to moan as you pulled off of him. Something about Mingyu, who had such a big effect on you, being so weak at your fingertips had you dripping. “That feels so good.”

“Good, I’m glad.” you smiled as you jerked him off, using your saliva as a lubricant. You moved your head back down and took the top of his member in your mouth, continuing to move your hand up and down the bottom of it. The sounds coming from your room were absolutely filthy, but admittedly, you loved it.

Mingyu moved one of his hands into your hair as he whined, his bottom lip nearly bleeding from how hard he was biting it. You moved your mouth off of him and he almost began to complain, but then he noticed you moving lower. As you twisted your hand up and down his member, you took one of his balls into your mouth.

“Jesus Y/N,” he nearly yelled, back arching off of your headboard. You took your hand off of his cock and put him back in your mouth, moving your hand to his balls and massaging them gently. “Fuck I’m gonna cum,” he whispered, his words causing you to moan against him. The vibration sent a feeling of euphoria through his entire body, his seed shooting into the back of your throat as he moaned your name.

Though it had been a while since you’d blown someone, you thought you handled yourself pretty well. You tried not to make a face as you swallowed his load. It wasn’t your favorite thing to do, but you were by no means a quitter.

You sat up and fixed your hair, allowing yourself to catch your breath as you admired Mingyu’s figure. His eyes were closed, his arms limp at his side as he attempted to recover from the whirlwind you had just thrown him into. He looked amazing… ethereal even.

“Was that okay?” you asked innocently as you crawled toward him. He looked at you like you had 3 heads.

“Are you kidding me?” he questioned, but you just shrugged as you went to straddle him once more. Before you could place your hands on his shoulders, he was flipping the two of you over so that you were on your back. “You’re not gonna remember your own name when I’m done with you,” he groaned against your lips as he kissed you. He ground against you and your eyes shot open as you broke the kiss.

“Are you hard?” you asked in utter disbelief.

“Yes,” he said impatiently, spreading your legs further apart for more access.

“But you just-”

He sat up and looked you in the eyes knowingly, “Vampire thing.”

“Oooooh…” you nodded as he returned his attention to your lips, the information you’d just learned arousing you even further.

His lips were soft against yours, which was a great contrast to the way he kissed you. Your tongue swiped his, messily getting lost in each other’s tastes. You ran your hands through his hair and tugged on it lightly, making him moan quietly into your mouth.

His lips moved to your neck, teeth lightly grazing across your skin every now and then. You wondered if he would bite you, as you’d given him permission, but his lips merely trailed down to your chest instead. His hand caressed your thigh as he kissed the expanse of your breasts, seemingly covering every inch of skin with kisses. Though, being the tease he is, he kissed around your nipples that were hardened with arousal, which was exactly where you wanted his mouth in that moment. He looked up at you with a smirk, knowing exactly what he was doing.

He took his time kissing his way down your stomach. He gently ran his hand up and down your side, often whispering sweet nothings against your skin. The pace of your breathing quickened as he moved further down your body, letting out a whimper as he licked up your navel toward your belly button. He hooked his pointer finger around the waistband of your underwear, pulling them off of you in the blink of an eye.

Mingyu brought both of his hands to your knees and spread them as far as they would go. You became slightly self-conscious as he did and said nothing, he simply stared at your dripping core. Before you knew it, he was lunging toward your center, his tongue attacking your clit as if he’d been starved of your taste for days.

He took turns licking long stripes up your folds and taking your clit in his mouth, sucking and toying with it with his tongue. The noises you were making were uncontrollable at that point, a loud moan falling from your lips when one of his fingers entered you.

“Mingyu…” you whined, your hand making your way to his hair.

“You’re so beautiful Y/N,” he groaned against your core, “So beautiful....”

Your cheeks flushed even more at his words. They were cheesy, but they rubbed you in exactly the right way.

He sucked on your clit as his fingers curled inside you, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your back arched off your bed. The obscene noises you were making went straight to Mingyu’s crotch, causing him to rut his hips against the bed as he ate you out.

He added a second finger inside of you and removed his lips from your center, causing you to whine in disapproval. He began kissing the inside of your thighs, biting down on the skin occasionally and replaced the feeling of his tongue with his finger, putting pressure on your clit as he rubbed you toward your climax.

“Oh my god, more, please,” you begged, your other hand running through your own hair as your orgasm built up inside of you. Your breathing stuttered when he returned his tongue to your clit, moving it in a similar fashion as he did his thumb and the sensation was one you’d never felt before. A chill ran down your spine when the coil in your stomach snapped, your climax tearing through you with immense force as the combination of how good his tongue and fingers felt finally hit you.

Your back arched off the bed once more, feral noises coming from your throat mixed with the sound of his name falling off your lips was like music to Mingyu’s ears. He didn’t stop his movements until your grip on his hair loosened and you were whining for him to stop.

He sat back on his heels before licking his lips and sucking his fingers clean. He smirked down at you, crawling back on top of your fucked-out form and pecking your lips lightly. The way you looked in that moment, a light sheen of sweat covering your forehead along with your eyelids that threatened to fall shut, made Mingyu’s heart swell.

“I think I’ve changed my mind,” he said as he lovingly moved some stray hairs away from your face.

“Yeah? About what?” you asked as you admired his now messy features, reveling in his touch.

“I’m definitely in love with you.”

For some reason your body had woken you up almost an hour before you needed to be awake, but you supposed there was no harm in that. You woke up against Mingyu’s bare chest, a light snore falling from his lips, along with a wee bit of drool. You thought it was more endearing than anything else as you stared at him, nothing but admiration in your eyes and a warm feeling in your heart.

He was in love with you? So soon? Your mind didn’t want to believe it, but your heart couldn’t help falling for his words. Even if he didn’t mean it, even if it was premature, it felt right. It didn’t scare you. It didn’t make your heart feel like retreating even further into your body and convincing you to run away. You wanted his words to be genuine, and similarly, you wanted to be able to say it back to him just as truthfully someday soon. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to fully fall for him, there was just one thing you needed to take care of first.

Wonwoo. The only reason you were able to sleep the previous night was because of how worn out Mingyu had made you, and you were grateful for that. You became increasingly anxious as you waited for your best friend to come home, not wanting to talk about the situation, but recognizing that you desperately needed to.

You slowly slid your bare body out of your bed, careful not to wake Mingyu. You walked over to pick up your discarded clothes from last night, slipping the shirt you were wearing then back over your head. You were feeling cold, so you walked over to your dresser and pulled out a pair of pajama pants, slipping those on as well.

You heard your front door open and you stood up straight, panic rushing through your body. Your eyes were wide as you weren’t expecting Wonwoo to be home so soon and before that moment you thought you might actually have some time to prepare what you wanted to say to him. Though your mind was telling you to cover Mingyu with blankets and pillows so he couldn’t be seen and stay in your room and be as silent as possible, your feet completely disregarded your thoughts as you began walking toward your bedroom door. You opened it and began walking toward your best friend who was now in the kitchen. You reached his back that was facing you and hesitated.

“Wonwoo?” you said quietly, reaching up and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off. “Do you think we could talk? Please?” you kept your voice quiet, gentle. He turned around slowly until he was facing you.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Y/N.” he shook his head and shrugged his broad shoulders. You looked at him, loads of sympathy in your eyes.

“Yes there is. I’m not okay with things being so awkward between us and I know you aren’t either.” you replied, trying to maintain eye contact, but he kept his eyes on the floor.

“And how are we supposed to make things not awkward?” he asked, arms crossed as he mindlessly swiped his sock-covered foot across the tile floor.

“Listen, if I had known you liked me before I met Mingyu, he wouldn’t even be in the picture right now. I never really admitted it, but I’ve always liked you too. Even now I’m not totally sure how I feel, I just know that I’m with Mingyu now and I really, really like him and you’re with someone else now too, so I think we should both just keep doing what we’re doing,” you let out a deep breath, Wonwoo finally looking into your eyes. “I know it’s not that easy, but… just try and focus on moving on. I’ll give you the space and time you need, I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable here, and I don’t wanna stop being friends.” you explained as calmly as you could, you didn’t want to get too emotional in fear of what you might say.

“Friends?” Wonwoo asked, disbelief in his voice. You were suddenly worrying again, wondering if you’d said something wrong. You went to defend yourself, but he spoke before you. “I thought we were best friends?” a smile creeped onto Wonwoo’s face and you rolled your eyes.

“You scared me!” you swatted his arm, barely taking note of the fact that he was pulling you into a hug, a light chuckle leaving his lips. You’d missed his laugh.

“I’m sorry,” he hugged you tightly, “we just never got the timing right, that’s all.” he rubbed your back and you nodded against his toned chest.

“If something’s meant to happen, it will.” was all you could think to reply. You believed it, you really did, and if it was fated that the two of you end up together, you knew it would happen somehow.

You stayed in the comfort of his arms for a little bit before pulling away. You looked up into his eyes and the moment you did you knew you shouldn’t have. You got lost in his soft, cat-like orbs before admiring his nose that came to a perfect point. You moved to his lips, and when you had stared at them for far longer than was acceptable, you heard footsteps behind you.

You panicked, immediately pushing Wonwoo away and attempting to collect yourself before turning around. Mingyu was just standing there, fully dressed with a look on his face that was an uneasy combination of disappointment and insecurity. Your face fell upon seeing him. How much had he heard?

Wonwoo looked between the two of you, but he said nothing. He merely walked to his room as quickly as he could, avoiding Mingyu’s eyes along the way. When you heard Wonwoo’s bedroom door shut, you bolted toward Mingyu and prepared to explain yourself.

“Mingyu-”

“Why…” he sighed, interrupting you, “Why did he leave yesterday?” his voice broke a little as he spoke, your heart along with it.

“He just-” you so badly wanted to keep things vague, make excuses even, but you knew the truth would come out at some point, and he deserved to know anyway. You ran your hands through your hair frustratedly. “He told me that he has feelings for me.” you admitted defeatedly. Mingyu let out a breathy laugh of disbelief, his expression quickly turning sour again.

“Did you mean it?” he asked quietly, seriously. He was looking right at you, all of his emotions on display.

“Mean what?”

“What you said… about me.” his jaw clenched.

“That… that I like you?”

“No,” his annoyance finally got the best of him, “When you said that I wouldn’t even be in the picture right now if you had known Wonwoo liked you before you met me. Did you mean that?” his voice was harsh as he took a step closer to you. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you, but it was the first time you’d ever felt scared of him. You knew in that moment you could either lift his spirits or crush them, but in order to be truthful, you could only do the latter.

“I-” you let out a sigh, closing your eyes. “Yes, but trust me-”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” he cut you off and headed toward the door.

“Mingyu please-” you followed him, but before you could finish your thought, the door was slamming in your face, Mingyu on the other side of it.

You leaned your forehead against the door, tears swelling in your eyes. You couldn’t believe you’d been so careless with your words when Mingyu was just in the other room. The worst part was that you knew you meant them, but you still wouldn’t trade what you had with him for anything… or anyone. If something is meant to happen it will, your mind repeated, and you ended up with Mingyu; you knew it was no coincidence.

You felt your heart nearly tear in half when you remembered he’d told you he was in love with you less than 12 hours ago. Warm tears began falling from your eyes, streaming down your cheeks as you ran into your room, slamming the door behind you.

You couldn’t manage going any further. You leaned against the back of your door, your face in your hands as you cried. You couldn’t imagine how horrible he must’ve felt, hearing you say out loud that you would’ve completely disregarded him if only another man had gotten to you before him. You never thought you would hurt him, and by no means did you ever want to.

As you wiped the salty droplets caused by nothing but your own stupidity off of your cheeks, you saw your phone screen light up and begin to vibrate from its place on the floor. You walked over to it and picked it up, seeing that it was your mother calling. You texted your parents frequently, but your face scrunched in confusion as you rarely ever called each other. You attempted to pull yourself together, drying your tears once more as you answered the call, putting the phone up to your ear.

“Mom?”

“Y/N? Sweetie are you okay? Are you hurt?” she asked frantically, seemingly through tears.

“What? Mom, I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“We were robbed last night.”

a/n: ..hehe :D

123 notes · View notes

andotherbiases · 4 years

Text

deleted scene(s) from “Into the Fall”, vers. 3

I forgot to mention that Into the Fall is rated E so these scenes do contain mature language/situations.

And now onto another version of a scene that was deleted. This one features a lot of Juri and the fairytale aspect is a little different in this one, but I hope you enjoy.

note: anything in italics is from the published version.

deleted scene, vers. 1 deleted scene, vers. 2

Version 3: Friendship & Fairytales

“So what, are you and Kang-tae back together again?”

Moon-young nearly chokes on her drink. “What?” she wheezes.

It’s Sunday, and the cafe where they’re having brunch is loud and busy. They’re sitting on the patio, being warmed by a summer breeze, and Moon-young thinks she might need to order another bubbly drink to have this conversation.

“It’s a valid question,” Juri declares as she twirls pasta around her fork.

“Why would Kang-tae and I be back together?”

Juri levels a look at her. “Are you seriously going to try to deny this?”

Moon-young just blinks at her.

Groaning, Juri sets her fork down and begins to count fingers. “First, you spend all your free time with him. Second, you go to him when you’re sad. When you’re happy. When you’re bored, even. Third, you depend on him for a lot more than manuscript edits and orgasms.”

“It’s not like that. It’s casual. We’re friends,” Moon-young stresses.

“No, we’re friends,” Juri retorts. “But you and Kang-tae? Whatever you are, it certainly isn’t friends. Co-workers to friends to lovers to ex's to friends-with-benefits to...what?”

“It’s complicated. There’s history there.”

“You always say that. That it's complicated between you two,” Juri says. “I’ve never quite understood it, because it seems like you could easily uncomplicate things. You don’t want to be with him? Then stop hanging around him. If you want to be with him, then just be with him.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, actually, it is,” Juri counters.

“No, it’s not,” Moon-young counters. “Have you forgotten that we’ve already tried to be a couple? That we already gave it a shot. And where did that lead us? We were miserable when we were together.”

“But will this be enough for you? Enough for him?” Juri presses. “This non-relationship?”

“Maybe this is just the best we can do.”

Juri sighs before reaching for her glass. “You know, for two people who are so clearly in love with one another, you two really are the biggest idiots.”

Moon-young’s fork hits the ground.

“You know it won’t be enough, right?” Juri says finally. “That one day he’ll want more. And that the reason why he’s even putting up with this stupid non-relationship is because he’s in love with you.”

“And although you call me your best friend, even I know that title belongs to Moon Kang-tae. But don’t worry, I’ve gotten over it, thanks for asking.”

Moon-young’s head is spinning, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol she’s consumed.

So it isn’t entirely a surprise when Moon-young ends up on Kang-tae’s doorstep. He lets her in without a word, almost as if he had been expecting her.

They’re sitting at the kitchen counter, cups of cooling tea before them. They’re just sitting, sometimes exchanging words but mostly just sitting in the moment, sharing the space together. Silence stretches on between them, but it isn’t empty nor is it burdensome. It occurs to Moon-young that he is the only person that she feels comfortable enough with to not have to say anything at all.

Kang-tae is sitting by her side, nursing his mug and waiting to listen to anything that she might say. His usual suits and coiffed hair are replaced with casual t-shirts and a pair of thick glasses. On the table next to them are notes from some manuscript, the red scrawls from his pen bleed across the page.

“I’m sorry for interrupting. You were working,” she says, only just piecing together that he might have been busy when she arrived at his door.

He waves her off. “It’s not important.”

They lapse into silence once more.

A single thought runs through her mind.

Does he love me does he love me does he love me?

“Moon-young,” Kang-tae says finally, reaching for her hand. And the way that he’s looking at her, all his affection and all his love for her reflecting in his eyes, and she doesn’t need an answer.

She snatches her hand back.

“I have to go,” she says abruptly, standing from her seat.

“Don’t do this,” he tells her, trying to hold onto her. “Moon-young!”

“This was just supposed to be sex,” she cries. “You weren’t supposed to fall in love with me!”

“I’ve always been in love with you!” he responds.

“What?”

“I can’t help it,” he holds her by the shoulders, hoping against hope that she’ll stay. “I’ve always loved you.”

She feels the world tilt on its axis and it steals her breath. “I have to go.”

And she runs, right out of that kitchen, right out of his apartment, and down the block until he’s no longer calling her name, no longer trying to follow her.

One week passes.

Then another.

And Moon-young thinks of Kang-tae every day.

“What did you do now?” Juri says by way of greeting when Moon-young enters the apartment.

“I think, something very bad.”

The smirk falls off Juri’s face. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Moon-young’s face crumples. “No.”

She proceeds to tell Juri everything. About that night at Kang-tae’s apartment. How she had run away. The way he had looked so devastated. Moon-young talks about the regret, the overwhelming guilt, and most of all, the sudden understanding of what she was about.

She did care about him.

No, it was more than that.

Moon-young loved him.

Had always loved him. Was still in love with him.

And she missed him so much.

Juri’s advice?

“Grovel,” she states, nodding her head while taking a slice of pizza from the box. “Grovel, beg, apologize.”

Moon-young blinks at her. “That’s it? That’s your advice?”

Juri pauses mid-bite. “And hope like hell that it works.”

“That’s shit advice.”

“It’s solid advice,” Juri counters. “You want some advice? Fine. You and Kang-tae are the biggest idiots I have ever met. It is so obvious that you want to be together, but for some reason, you two keep creating obstacles for yourselves. And then both of you throw tantrums at the first sign of trouble.”

Moon-young opens her mouth, but Juri cuts her off.

“You are so scared that you’ll be too much for him. That one day he’ll find that he can’t deal with you anymore, so you hold him at arm’s reach. You keep him at a distance. You want things to be easy and fun, and take a sign of trouble as a reason to give up before you get hurt. If you want something real with Kang-tae, something that lasts, then you have to have faith that he’ll stay by your side. That he won’t abandon you.”

Her words pierce Moon-young straight through the heart.

“And,” Juri continues, “you have to fight for him.”

“Fight for him?”

She nods. “Yes, fight for him. At this point you’ve broken his heart now not just once, but twice. He needs to know how you feel.”

“How do I do that?”

“I don’t know, you’re the creative one! Write him a poem or something.”

Now it is Moon-young’s turn to make a face. “I am not going to write some shitty love poem.”

Juri just rolls her eyes. “Fine, write him a freaking book for all I care. But if he is worth it to you, then you have to do something. He has to know that you’ll fight for him. That you’re willing to put in the effort for a fresh start.”

Moon-young doesn’t say anything else, but nods as she considers Juri’s advice. She picks up a pizza slice.

“You two are really annoying, you know that, right?” Juri grumbles between bites. “I swear I think you do this just for the drama of it all.”

“Juri.”

“Hm?”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

A pause. A short smile, a small shrug.

“Well then at least you know you tried.”

Moon-young spends the next few days writing a new story.

Of a princess with a heart one size too small. And how she kept everyone in the world at a distance, because she was scared that her small heart wouldn’t be able to bear it if anyone got too close. And of a boy, who respected her boundaries and still chose to walk next to her. Over time, the distance between them on these walks grew smaller and smaller, until they were almost touching. But that scared the princess because the closer the boy got to her the faster her too-small heart would beat. The princess would worry that he would hear the rapid flutter of her small heart, and he would know that she was different. And then he wouldn’t walk with her anymore. So she had him kicked out of the kingdom to prevent him from discovering the truth about her. Only the princess realized that she missed the boy. With no one by her side, she was incredibly lonely. She realized that she had made a grave mistake because she had gotten used to her small heart beating in double time whenever he was around. Without him, it felt like her heart was beating too slowly. Everyday the princess waited for the boy to return to her and bring with him the other beat of her heart. And when he did not return, she wondered if she was too late. So she wrote a letter that the boy might hear from her directly, disguised it as a bird song, and sent it off to find him. Then the princess waited for the boy’s response.

It is a fairytale.

For an audience of one.

It will never be sent to her publisher. Never be sold in any bookstore.

Still, it is the most important book she’s ever written.

She mails the fairytale off and waits.

The next day, Moon-young receives a call from the agency with some big news. First, Moon Kang-tae is no longer her agent. Effective immediately. Second, she would now be represented by a Lee Sang-in.

“Excuse me,” she interrupts, “could you tell me why the change? What happened to Kang-tae?”

“Oh, right,” the voice on the line hums. “I forgot to mention that.”

“Unfortunately, Moon Kang-tae requested for the contract to be terminated.”

When Juri arrives at Moon-young’s apartment, she comes bearing gifts. Gifts by way of bright green soju bottles.

“Screw Moon Kang-tae,” Juri slurs.

“Fuck him,” Moon-young agrees.

Later, Juri holds Moon-young’s hair back when she gets sick and wipes her tears when she can’t hold them in anymore.

[MY to visit KT’s office the next day]

#itf

25 notes · View notes

consciousowl · 6 years

Text

How to Date a Conscious Woman

You may have recently gone to a singles bar, only to find it a total waste of time. All the women had attitudes, and were solely concerned with the job you have, the car you drive or the house you don’t have. You long to drop into a Starbuck’s in a college town and meet young ladies who aren’t totally jaded. Conscious women who are attractive, sensitive, open, intelligent and cultivated… women who are feminine, not bra-busters. Have you ever considered the possibility of there being a vast number of conscious women in the larger world, only you don’t see them, and they don’t see you? Maybe you should start by being more conscious yourself!

Wake Up!

You may have had any number of satori’s when you were younger. But now, you seem out of touch. Your monkey mind has got the best of you. You need a refresher course. What you once knew, but forgot, won’t help you today. Complacency won’t serve you, and excuses will never truly empower you. You want to live more consciously, and you want to get a life… especially a love life. You don’t meet that many people in your software job, and you have settled into a dull routine that keeps you isolated. Time for a break. Assume responsibility for yourself and your world. In every scenario, you have something to do with what is happening. You can go out and meet new people, no matter how busy you may be. You can enroll in a consciousness workshop, perhaps Vipasana Meditation, Vinyasa Yoga or a Mystery School. You may be delightfully surprised to meet a whole lot more women than men.

Watch and Listen

Women are giving signals all day long; yet only a fraction of the men pick up on a single one of them. Body language has been cocktail conversation for years; yet so few men master it and systematically apply it. You can get started by simply noticing open positions and closed positions all day long. Open arms or crossed arms. Head up or head down. It will all come back to you. Women like to talk forever, but precious few men really listen. Even fewer men do what’s harder still… offer deep listening. You clear your head of junk. You are totally present. Not only do you listen to her every word, but you listen behind the words to the inner meaning. You don’t anticipate. You stay steadily focused on the present moment.

When you both watch and listen, you will automatically begin picking up on a whole lot more women, conscious or unconscious, and the truly conscious women will quickly find an excuse to hang around you. This is so much fun, you might even consider an interpersonal communications course with mirroring exercises.

Go Where Conscious Women Go

Conscious women enjoy a rich inner life. They go to places that support that, whether an art gallery, a dance performance, a music recital or a live play. They are both active and reflective. They don’t cling to men, but they are extremely open to any man who is responsive. They enjoy spending time with gentlemen.

Checkout Conscious Dating Tips for Men

Who is into psychology, philosophy and mysticism? Mostly women. They attend classes as students, or in continuing studies, in colleges and universities, even community colleges. They follow gurus, go to workshops, visit bookstores and libraries. In brief, stay intellectually alive and engaged with the world. Today, you find more women than men studying to be attorneys and medical doctors. Is this all an accident? The woman might make a lot more money than you, be busier than you, have more degrees or even be better travelled than you. That doesn’t mean she is not attractive, appreciate a man or value you for what you are, as opposed to what you think you have. You can meet conscious women in corporate board rooms, or as baristas at Starbuck’s. The choice is yours!

What Is Our Highest Possibility Together?

Occasionally, life will throw gorgeous women at you in a golden opportunity where you literally cannot lose. Has this never happened to you that you booked an airline ticket and ended up sitting next to a beautiful young lady who just happened to be single, and was talkative to boot? If there are no accidents, then every attractive lady you encounter offers a new possibility. You are, in fact, related to everyone and everything in your life. Buddha insisted on recognizing the highest possibility in this life of every single person he met. Why can’t you do the same?

As you meet a lady, however casually, ask yourself what possibility you may have together. The form of the relationship may not matter as much as you think. It is the experience of being together. Women consistently maintain that what they most appreciate in a man is how he makes her feel about herself.

“Let’s Just Be Friends!”

There was a time when I felt these words were the kiss of death! How far this is from getting laid, going to bed, finding a lover! However, it may not be as far as you think. What is the valence between you two, the push and pull? If there is energy between you, it could get interesting. When you think about it, friendship is what you really want. You want a woman who can be a constant companion through life. The sex, romance and intimacy are all the icing and sparklers on the chocolate cake. I am well acquainted with romantic and game-playing love styles. I have even been in relationship with a woman who viewed love transactionally. Yet, at the bottom of it all, what really mattered was the friendship. If a woman ever tells you, “Let’s just be friends,” respond with, “What a great idea! Let’s just be friends.” Most likely this will totally disarm her. She will be delighted with your response. However, if there is real energy between you both, the chances are she will eventually want more.

All You Need Do Is “Simply Love Her”

In the movie, Camelot, King Arthur counsels one of his knights on how to make a damsel fall in love. The legendary king keeps singing, “Love her. Simply love her.” As corny as this sounds, it happens to be true. Just love the woman you love. Love her, not just for her body, but for Who she is. Recognize her divinity, recognize her as a goddess.

Many men have a block around telling a woman they love her. What is even harder it to truly love her, to put her interests way ahead of your own, to truly care for her. Love is a continuum from raw lust to divine love. If you love a woman in any way, go ahead and love her, and let that love grow and expand. Love ultimately is a spiritual force. In that, you cannot lose. Of course, the woman of your dreams may be in a committed relationship with another man. You continue to love her in whatever form is appropriate. Your love for her will attract other women to you. Then again, things might change for her. You never know. Just be true to your own heart.

Learn Some Valuable Tips Today

Tough and Tender: Are You Man Enough?

What women all seem to suggest is that they are total pushovers for men who are both tough and tender. Men who are either outwardly or inwardly strong, and yet soft and tender inside. Just think of the first time Elvis Presley sang “Love me tender.” And he gladly went into the Army and did his tour. You need not be muscle-bound, you can have an inner strength that comes from vision, passion and commitment. You know who you are, you know what you want and you are here to make a difference. You could be a French sous-chef in a five-star restaurant. It doesn’t matter. You are you own man. You don’t need to prove a thing. The fastest way to be tough and tender is to be totally human with a woman, and yet have faith. You are here for a purpose. You are supremely lucky to have met her. This is the best possible world to chase our dreams. Darling, why don’t you join me?

More to Chemistry Than You Think!

Women are conscious on more than one level. Chemistry between lovers works on more than one level. It is not just the biological clock. Our body, our heart, our mind and our spirit all respond to the right vibrational key. Watch and listen to conscious women. The game is worth the candle, whatever the outcome. I can think of no higher honor than to be the Greatest Lover. Whether Romeo or Jesus, to be a world-class lover places you in the best possible company.

Checkout Conscious Dating Tips for Men

How to Date a Conscious Woman appeared first on http://consciousowl.com.

0 notes

attractionjapan · 7 years

Text

Why I Stopped Dating Japanese Girls… And You Should Too!

I used to do it a ton.

With a couple days a week for gym, and a few others for going out (either to bars and clubs or for daygame), I still managed to squeeze in probably 4 dates a week during a certain period of my game career. Sometimes I’d cram 2-3 dates in a single day, and other times I’d meet them late after work or gym.

And it was great. I’d go out to restaurants, izakayas, bowling, batting cages, picnics, home dinner dates with wine, ping pong, rooftop terraces, boat cruises, matsuris, hanami viewing, fireworks shows, friends’ music sets, and pretty much everything I could think of.

Dates are, after all, the main way people connect and get to know each other better and forge a romantic connection. They are etched into the collective unconscious through culture and society, with nearly everyone able to relate to typical tropes such as the awkward first few minutes, the deciding whether or not to have another drink, and the magical “first kiss” moment – a hugely hyped second in time where the act of leaning in just a few inches never felt so nerve-wracking, as if you finally got to discover whether you’d just wasted several hours or not.

All in all it was a fun time and I don’t regret it at all. Dates are a total blast and generally how the rest of the world operates, at least romantically. I built a lot of skills regarding holding an interesting conversation, offering up interesting stories and topics, and digging into the reality of the person in front of me. Dating taught me patience, empathy, communication skills, cold reading abilities, and of course, boldness to make a move.

So why did I stop?

youtube

Ultimately, dating (especially several times a week, as I was) ends up taking a large amount of time, effort, money, and coordination over text. Flakes on the same day would ruin my time allotment, leaving my schedule suddenly free, and while I was perfectly capable of coming up with something else I needed or wanted to do, it still didn’t seem like the most efficient way to spend my time or connect with women.

What changed?

Somewhere along the way, I started to realize that I could simply sleep with women the first day I met them. The fabled SNL – same night lay – had caught my imagination. Now, when average guys hear about people pulling SNLs they imagine drunk girls whisked off from clubs – sluts and hoes blacked out and either purposefully putting themselves out to be taken home, or senses dulled to what was happening only to discover in the morning and regret it.

Our society doesn’t really account for the fact that women want anonymous sex, and that more often than not, a far larger segment of (female) society is open to the idea. Perhaps they don’t leave the house with the plan of ending up with a stranger in a love hotel or banging in a karaoke-kan, but when presented with the opportunity in the form of a charismatic man who recognizes them for who they are, leads them effectively and engages them emotionally, and provides no risk to their friends, family, or workplace (who would likely shame them for their desire for casual sex), they might just take them up on it.

My first daytime SNL was a huge rush. I had pulled from clubs and bars before, and to some degree pulling girls in the night time is something that society understands to be possible. The average joe realizes that women go to clubs and sometimes leave with guys they met that night. But the daytime? ABSURD!

The typical responses and doubts creep in for guys who hear tales of daytime SNLs (or even night time, for that matter):

-They must be ugly

-They must be desperate

-They must be sluts

-They must have messed up relationships with their fathers

-You just happened to be exactly their type

And while some of these may be the case some of the time, the vast majority of women I (and those I’m close with) pull from streets, cafes, bookstores, train stations, department stores, buses, convenience stores, and pretty much anywhere they exist are, by and large, better looking and less of the ‘party girl” type than those people often end up with coming home with from clubs and bars.

Somewhere in the cobwebbed corners of my mind I remember the old joke/observation someone had about the popular video series, “Girls Gone Wild.” Trying to explain the allure and massive popularity of the series over something more straightforward like porn, they casually mentioned,

“Why is Girls Gone Wild so much better than just normal porn, despite showing less? Because porn is just porn stars. They take dicks on a regular basis, and anyone can see it and find them without really any difficulty. It’s their job to do that. But GGW is regular girls, gone wild! They do it because they want to.”

In many ways, this explains several trends in porn itself, such as the massive popularity of amateur home videos, camgirls, “girl next door” types, wife porn, cuckolding, and more. In other words, the regular nature of the girls, the fact that they are not professionally out there riding cocks left and right and instead are doing it because they just want to go wild makes those girls more exciting.

Similarly, while you can find the occasional “good girl” out there in clubs, chances are these girls are the kinds who are getting wasted weekly and going home with different guys. Nothing wrong with that of course, and I will happily take a hot club girl home for a romp. But there’s something extra exciting about bringing a sexual encounter to someone who otherwise had no idea of the possibility before the day. Not a regular, a professional. Creating the opportunity for a normal girl to “go wild”, as it were.

On the streets, you find the normally bookish girl who went to girls’ university and now works tucked away in some lonely engineering firm.

The elegant housewife, married but unsatisfied, wandering the daytime streets of Minato-ku and Omotesando.

The tourist girl visiting from Osaka, wandering around Tokyo with bags full of shopping.

The cosplay chick who spends nights working as a companion in various sorts of attire but is internet-famous.

The jazz singer who performs on stages around the country, but just happens to be free and in the area that day.

While you’ll undoubtedly stumble across party girls and the same types as you’d find in bars and clubs (indeed, they have to walk on the streets to get to those bars and clubs!), your overall range of possibilities is much higher.

On top of that, most of the hottest girls I’ve ever hooked up with, I only had ONE chance with them, usually the first day I met them. Now, I’m talking about absurdly high-level chicks here. Booked out every day for months, rarely without friends or minders, celebrities or semi-famous girls with entourages, models… you get the idea. You’re welcome to try to schedule dates with these kinds of girls. And sometimes, it can work. Sometimes, it’s the only shot you get. BUT, if you happen to catch one of these girls with an hour or so free time before her next appointment, and you DON’T pull the trigger then and there, I’ll climb down your chimney and throw caltrops on your floor while you’re sleeping because that’s a damn crime. Keep in mind these girls meet dozens, if not hundreds of wealthy, cool, socially savvy and tuned in guys every week. Your five-minute approach on the street with a number close that has you feeling over the moon isn’t likely to stick in her memory as much as pulling and instantly banging her.

“What if she doesn’t have time at that moment?” I hear you ask, “You still wouldn’t date her?”

On a given day of gaming out on the streets, I’ll get anywhere between 5 and 20 new contacts. Often, I never even write them a single message. Most commonly, I’ll mass invite them to parties and events I’m going to and see who turns up. And with the very minor few who make a particularly powerful impression on me and I can’t get out of my mind, then I’ll schedule an actual proper date.

On any given day, I have a pretty high chance of pulling a girl home (or to a hotel, etc) for an SNL. In fact, the critical point at which I stopped dating so much was when I realized that, accounting for flakes on dates and girls not wanting to hook up that day, I have a better chance of hooking up with a girl by ONLY going for an SNL than by scheduling dates at all.

Now I’m not recommending you do this. In fact, for 95% of the guys out there, this strategy would be absurd and impractical. This is something you can only do when you have a massive abundance of girls and a decent ability to go out there and pull girls for SNLs. But I just wanted to share why I stopped dating Japanese girls.

Of course, the title is a *bit* misleading. In the last month I think I scheduled about 3 dates (all with those girls that I REALLY was excited about) from over 150 new contacts. But despite dating less, I get laid more than ever.

And I just take the girls I’ve already slept with to all those places I want to go to (fireworks, dinner, activities, etc). It’s just easier that way. They show up more often, put out, and we laugh the whole time because the “wall” has already been broken.

What about the rest of those contacts? They get thrown on the reserve list, to be pulled out when a friend wants to throw together a party and needs a bunch of girls to show up, or if I have a particular friend who suits one girl I might try to hook them up. I also periodically hit up a huge chunk of girls (perhaps 50 or so) on a night I’m out to see if they’re also out and want to come hang together. Often, this will lead to a spontaneous “date”.

So in summary:

-Dating is more expensive, takes longer, requires more follow-up over text, often has more things out of your control (illness / change of moods / sudden boyfriends) than simply SNLing her then and there

-Approach more, build huge abundance while at the same time pushing each interaction farther

-Inviting large amounts of girls to one single night or event is a good use of your time and leads to higher chances of hooking up

-Often the hottest & best quality girls are the busiest, so if you catch them with some free time, swing for the fences!!

-All other things held constant, you have more to gain by making a stronger connection sooner rather than later. Sex, of course, builds connection & breaks down barriers between people.

Ultimately, this is the way I’m gaming these days. Live on the streets, go hard in the paint, and pull for the home run.

The post Why I Stopped Dating Japanese Girls… And You Should Too! appeared first on Attraction Japan.

from Attraction Japan http://attractionjapan.com/stopped-dating-japanese-girls/

0 notes

3one3 · 7 years

Text

The Sequel - 811

Honest & Hypocritical

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

Christina took a shower and a bath, because she wanted to read for a while and focus her mind on something other than her relationships. Her tub had two view options- a floor to ceiling window on the backyard, or the doorway into her closet and a TV on the wall beside it. She soaked with her back to the window and used the TV to read her e-book. It was a real life spy story told like fiction, so it was an easy read and kept her engaged for as long as the water stayed warm. She didn’t want to have to figure out how she felt about André basically saying he wasn’t upset that she was admittedly in love with Juan again, and that he was willing to just ignore it in favor of trying to improve their relationship and get back to a state they’d been missing for a long, long time. The rider just wanted to ignore all of it and carry on living each moment as it came. Doing that for a while led her to legitimate happiness at times. Those times were virtually all with Juan, but to be fair to her husband, she was with the Spaniard a whole lot more than him, so there was no obvious way to compare.

André was in bed when she pulled the drain in her bath. He came in a little while before that to see what she was up to in there, and told her he was putting the house to bed for the night. He was tired, and his day was by all reasonable measures pretty shitty. Relaxing in bed was more satisfying than relaxing on the couch. Plus, Christina had developed a habit of claiming the middle of the mattress for herself. Beating her under the covers meant he could secure the space he wanted. Still, the second she walked out of the bathroom he held both arms out like Lukas when he wanted to be picked up, and asked her to come get into his space with him. He said he had a bad day and needed to squeeze and cuddle her. His honest expression said he wasn’t kidding, or being cheeky, or just trying to be funny to erase the seriousness of their conversation in the kitchen.

“Did you figure out your schedule for tomorrow?” he asked her once she settled with her back against him. He was sitting up fairly straight so she just put a pillow down to sit on and leaned over and back into his chest. Then he could hug and hold her all he wanted, and use her as a chin rest if so desired. “I have some ideas for plans if you’re free.”

“I’m free.”

“What do you think about sleeping in and then taking Mausi to brunch with Marco and Zoe and Noah? They’re going to an American-style place at a hotel downtown. Or would you like to go to brunch somewhere else, just us? Or are you not interested in brunch?” And are you interested in sex, because I’m interested in sex tonight even though you stabbed me repeatedly in the heart and in the manhood a couple of hours ago, the footballer thought, his right hand pushing under her left breast as part of its roaming rubbing of her tummy.

“I’d rather it be just us.” Christina tilted her head back to try to make eyes up at him. In truth she didn’t care if they went out with Marco’s family or not. It would have been fun, probably. But telling him she preferred to be alone with their own family was a way to make up for some of the more difficult things she said earlier.

“We could go to the bookstore that Mausi likes. They have a cafe.”

“K. What else?”

“I don’t know. That was it really for my ideas.”

“K,” she laughed.

“Are we not having sex anymore because of you and me, or because of you and him?”

“Neither,” she laughed again, almost snorting. The frank question caught her off guard, but it wasn’t that surprising that André would ask it. Firstly, he was holding the underside of her breast between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, and secondly, they hadn’t any kind of sexual contact in three days shy of a month. The answer she was about to give was a cop out though. She wasn’t ready to get into another heavy discussion. “I’ve just been masturbating a lot because I’m so bored.”

“That is a lie, Prinzessin,” he scolded back. “The more you do that, the more sex you want. Just be honest. Is it that you don’t feel like being with me, or you only want to be with him?”

“Neither, honestly. I don’t feel like having sex when I’m unhappy, and I’ve been unhappy a lot since I got here...”

“I see.”

“We’ve hardly both been here at the same time anyway...”

“I see.”

“I’ve had sex with him 4 times since you said it’s okay. That’s over three months.”

“I see.”

“Babe,” the rider complained.

“What?”

“Can’t you say anything else?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, but you’ve hardly been putting the moves on either,” she added contritely, arms folded over her chest.

“It’s almost cute that you’re trying to blame this on me.” André chuckled quietly and combed some of his girl’s hair back and over from the front. “You’re usually adorable when you get upset for no reason.”

“I’m not upset. I’m defensive!” How is he going to blame me for not sleeping with him if he hasn’t even tried to sleep with me, Christina whined to herself. And then I try to make him understand that I’m not just banging Juanin nonstop when I’m home and he doesn’t even care, or he doesn’t believe me.

“You’re tiny, whiny, and vanilla scented,” her partner declared. He also reached over her with his other hand to take a hold of her side and help drag her off her pillow and fully onto his lap. “And since you’ve gone from explaining why you don’t feel like making love lately to being upset at me for not trying to fuck you, I’m going to assume that means you want me to and are too proud and immature to express yourself any other way.”

“Since when is calling me small and immature with your hands in my shirt supposed to be appealing?”

“I also called you whiny and vanilla scented. Don’t leave those out,” André insisted while he slid his left palm into her stretchy gray boyshorts. Artificial vanilla, that is. Usually she uses products that have real vanilla in them. I guess her bath stuff company cheaped out for once and went with like, the smell of vanilla instead of actual vanilla. Still nice though. Her hair smells like lemons like it’s supposed to. That’s nicer. I miss her being this close, the footballer thought for the umpteenth time. I miss feeling her body move around, and the weight of her on top of me, and having control of her this way.

“You could at least kiss me.”

“Do you want me to?”

“I unno.”

“I can’t kiss you unless you tell me to.”

“Why do you do this?”

“Because I can.”

Christina wrestled herself away from the large and warm hands trying to fondle her in a variety of ways, and free of the long and strong arms to which they were attached. She scrambled out of his lap and onto her knees besides him. His touches didn’t really turn her on, and his goading her into wanting to be with him by teasing her and poking fun at her was as transparent as her white slub cotton t-shirt. It didn’t work. She brought up the kissing because she was willing to play along for him- to do something he probably really wanted. But if she were going to do that, then she didn’t want any games.

“Do this right,” she implored. All she received in response was standard Schü confused face. “We’re not having sex because we haven’t been close. We still haven’t had a real conversation about anything besides you and me. We don’t talk about anything else that matters- not even pillow talk- just schedules, and food, and Lukas. Joking and being sarcastic isn’t being close. It’s...it’s like a cover. I know it doesn’t matter as much to you, but the connection matters to me, babe,” the rider reminded. “Snuggle with me and talk to me and make me wanna be with you if that’s what you want.“

“Chris, what do you want me to talk about besides us?” the player huffed with his hands up in frustration. “It’s going to turn you on if I sit here and tell you about how all the papers and websites are doing stories for tomorrow and Monday about my “shocking”, “steep”, “stark”, and “disappointing” “fall”? You want me to tell you the kinds of interview questions I had today? Or do you want to hear about how Tuchel basically told me I should expect to play as Auba’s backup only? That he sees no use for me in any role but up front? These are the conversations that will make you want to spread your legs?” He was angry, for sure. His eyes turned cold, and his furrowed brows made an ugly dent in the middle. But belying that anger and frustration was resentment, and it was obvious only in the fact that he hadn’t opened up about his playing situation sooner. Christina knew he wouldn’t have kept those feelings in if they weren’t laced with resentment, resignation, and extreme disappointment. He would have whined and complained about it, otherwise, or attempted to laugh off the media.

“No, you being upset doesn’t turn me on,” she assured him from her knees. “But you actually talking to me about something that matters at least gives me a chance of knowing what’s going on with you, and thus knowing you, and feeling close to you. You always criticize me and accuse me of not telling you things,” she reminded, gently so as not to seem combative. Her insides hurt for him. Her heart hurt that he was experiencing his playing circumstances exactly the way she thought he should, and not in the shallower and more casual way he was trying to sell on the outside. No part of her wanted to say “I told you so” about making the move to Dortmund, but she suspected he thought she was eager to throw that back at him. “Now you’re not telling me important things either. There is this wall between us and that’s why we’re not having sex, and why I said I don’t know if we even like being with each other anymore. You don’t ask about my stuff and when I ask about your stuff, you say you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Because I don’t want to talk about it! I don’t want to talk about how unhappy I am with the situation. That doesn’t change it. Telling you all about how I’m failing and my plan and expectations were incorrect doesn’t make you believe me when I tell you my plan and expectations and faith for our future. How am I supposed to be telling you over here on this side that I know we’re going to be okay and everything is going to be great for us here because I feel it inside and I know we’re a good team when we’re together, and then over here I’m saying that I was wrong about everything I was sure of when I decided to come here?”

“I would rather you be honest and hypocritical than isolated and strategically consistent. I give you the benefit of the doubt either way because I love you and I want you to be right, not because my logical and sensible deductive process concludes that you are,” Christina chuckled. “It’s not like a believe your argument for us anyway. It’s not like I don’t already see that what you thought would happen here hasn’t happened so far. You don’t have to pretend everything is fine so that I believe you when you say we’ll be good again. What actually does make it hard to believe your gut feeling is that we have no connection anymore, or not no connection but not one like we used to.”

“Well now you know how I feel, so what else do you want me to do?” the under fire BVB forward groaned, still frustrated. I was trying to be playful with her and get her to say she wants to get off with me tonight, he thought. I wasn’t asking for some kind of deeply sensual love making experience in which we expose all our secrets or something. Why does she have to be so much more effective at ripping me for not telling her every single thought in my head than I am at ripping her for not talking to me more? She does to me what Mata does to her. He tells her what she’s doing is wrong, and he explains why in a patronizing way that makes her feel stupid or like she’s a bad person for it. That’s what she does to me now. Now it’s my fault she doesn’t like being around me anymore because I’m not telling her stuff that contradicts my arguments about us that she admits she doesn’t even believe anyway? I’m the one who was telling her just a few days ago that we have no connection and we don’t talk about anything significant.

“Tell me about whatever upset drama is happening behind your beautiful and agitated blue eyes right now,” the patronizer in question suggested in a soft and quiet voice that he perceived as more “her” than the condescending joking one in which she’d delivered her last lecture. “Trust me so I trust you.”

“I’m agitated because all I want is to hold, and touch, and kiss my tiny and vanilla scented Prinzessin, and be affectionate with her, and all she seems to want to do is substitute affection with all the reasons she doesn’t want it. I want you and you want to tell me what I do wrong. Two times this week I try to tell you that I want to spend time close with you, and two times you tell me it’s my fault that you don’t even want to just sit in my arms, but I think the real reason is your London and Spain boyfriend.”

“Please don’t go there.” Christina shook her head and leaned over in a most uncoordinated and clumsy fashion to administer an emergency neck hug. She almost gave him whiplash. Juan wasn’t a better option in her mind. There was no comparison going on, or consideration of options. The Chelsea creator was good, and the Borussia striker was not good anymore. She didn’t want to link them. She didn’t want to say “Juan is better”. Her feelings for him were separate and independent from her husband, and she didn’t think her disconnected feeling from the latter was a consequence of her connection to the former. There was enough of her to connect with both. Also, she felt terrible that André thought she didn’t want his affection anymore. That wasn’t it. That wasn’t the problem. She did want his affection, and lots of it. The problem was that it was hard for her to give it back when she didn’t feel much of an emotional connection to him. She missed it. She missed feeling like they shared not only a physical form, in that they could do whatever they wanted with each other’s bodies, but also a big chunk of their souls- their insides- their stuff that mattered. “I do want to sit in your arms. Your arms can be the best place in the world. I just want it to feel like it used to. It’s because of you and me that it doesn’t. Not Juan.”

“Then let me try.” The native German responded to the neck-hug-assault by closing his much larger and comprehensively stronger arms around the assailant, pulling her body hard and close enough that she had to move her legs and kind of straddle his right thigh. His eyes closed as much to shield them from her damp hair as any other reason, and behind his lids he attempted to quiet his mind in the darkness they granted, and let go of the building aggravation, and even ignore what Christina was talking about. Talk was getting cheap for him. For not the first time, they seemed to be talking about their relationship more than having a relationship. He let his mind opt out of the moment and let his body have a bigger share in the goings on. Chin on her shoulder, arms crisscrossed around the middle of her back, ear to ear, chest to chest- the sensation of togetherness, the feeling of warmth, and the sound of breathing combined to ease the stress he’d been carrying around from head to toe. “Let me try, baby.”

The rider said nothing back. Instead she smooched the side of his head and let go of it so that she could turn around and park her butt between his legs. From there she leaned back against him, picked up his hands and secured one on her shoulder so that his arm was across her neck and the other on her tummy. Then she pulled the navy comforter up to her chin and heaved a lengthy sigh. She wanted to feel good with him too. She wanted to feel at home with him, and relax, do more enjoying than analyzing.

“Comfy now, Prinzessin?”

“Literally and figuratively. But I do resent that you don’t have a third hand to pet my head.”

“I’m sort of comfortable as well. Thanks for asking.”

“Can you rub my tummy?”

“Does it hurt?”

“No I just like when you move your big giant palm and pudgy fingers around there. It’s relaxing. Tummy massage.”

While André obliged and administered the gentle tummy massage, he thought about how relaxing her tummy could be for him too. Rubbing it was nice, but resting his head on it was better. He liked to use her stomach as a pillow. Her torso was the perfect dimensions for it, whether he lay on his back or on his side. It was best on his side though. Then he had warm skin on his cheek, and the surface kind of absorbed him enough to be giving, and then remained firm for support. The skin near her navel was entertaining for the player. It seemed thin, and he could pinch some, and it was extra soft with little blonde hairs. Lying on his girl also afforded a convenient opportunity to touch other areas. Something fun for him and annoying to her was lifting her underwear up and blowing air inside. It was a good spot from which to tickle her inner thigh, bite her hipbones, and play with her pubic hair when it was allowed to grow out some before a wax. But he didn’t need to use her tummy as a pillow to be able to touch down there. After slowly and gently moving his hand around her smooshed abs, pausing it now and then to open and close his fingertips, or to push down and shift them back and forth, the footballer brought the pudgy fingers closer to the nearly nonexistent seam around the waist of her very low rise boyshorts.

“I’ve been watching this show for 10 minutes now and I can’t figure out what the people are trying to do with the cars. They’ve ruined Top Gear,” Christina complained absently about the show André put on while she was still in the bath. He had little interest in it then, and none in the now.

“Can we make out now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay get off me.”

“It’s as if he didn’t hear a single word,” his wife thought aloud sarcastically, shaking her head.

“Be quiet. I can feel you getting all warm and seductive.”

“You can feel me getting seductive? I don’t think that’s a thing, babe,” she laughed on her way to some empty mattress. The footballer hardly waited for her to vacate his lap. He was already turning over to hover on top of her before she even picked a spot. He ultimately opted to collapse on her like a ton of bricks and go in for the first of many kisses as if they were already several types of kisses into the event. It put an end to the self-defense-sarcasm. There was romance in it. Christina took a second to think about how she didn’t know an opening kiss could be sexy, loving, sweet, demanding, and familiar all at one time, or that one French kiss could make her want to ignore much of what was in her heart. As she lifted her head from the pillow to allow André’s arms behind it, she had to concede inside that it was beginning to feel like home in that bed.

0 notes