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yunhoszn · 1 year ago

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save a horse, ride a cowboy

PAIRING jeong yunho x f!reader

WORD COUNT 12.25k

GENRES fluff﹒angst﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, reader is a city girl but i tried not using too many gendered terms, cowboy!yunho RAHHHHH, mentions of food, reader has a boyfriend for most of the fic (an oc) but there’s no real infidelity, reader embarrasses themselves on what i’d say is a few occasions too many, yunho is down bad, masturbation (m! and brief f! receiving), lowkey voyeurism, a really bad dad joke, horse riding scene bc i feel that’s pivotal for a cowboy fic, lots and lots of kissing, marking, teasing, vaginal fingering x2, oral sex (f! receiving) x2, multiple orgasms, very slight edging, praise, pet names (baby, babe, and princess oops), unprotected sex (BE SAFE PLS I BEG), cowgirl position, pull out method, missionary position, creampie lol, ending is cute but also kinda up for interpretation? i guess <3

SUMMARY when your grandparents decided to retire and take a summer’s long vacation in celebration, they leave their house in your care. at least you don’t have to worry about feeding the farm animals. but you do have to worry about the tall, handsome cowboy who does.

MORE AND SHE’S DONE oh my god, this fic actually pulled so much out of me i think i was the one seeing stars by the end.. 😭 but i’m so proud of it and the goals i tried meeting while writing. first of all the length??? insane for me. i can hardly get myself to write anything longer thank 5k 😞 THATS ENOUGH ABOUT ME THO,,, this fic was heavily inspired by the django performance if u couldn’t tell by the banner 😝 and i’d first like to thank the academy aka @kimsohn for encouraging me to write this and fueling my delusions ilysm maya <3 i’d also like to give a huge thank u to @bro-atz TYSM FOR BETAING AND HELPING WITH SCENES BRO ur my life saver fr <3 PLS PLS PLS REBLOG IF U ENJOYED!!

Growing up, you weren’t the biggest fan of trips to your grandparents’ farm in the rural countryside.

You were born in a big city, full of all the glitz and glam. There were bright lights that lit the skyline at night, distracting from the stars that illuminated above. The wide open space was blocked by high towers and large skyscrapers. You were accustomed to the sound of bustling pedestrians and the obnoxious honking of cars in the streets. There was seldom an evening of complete silence.

Everything was so tightly packed together, within walking distance if you didn’t feel like hopping in a car for a fifteen minute drive. You appreciated the insanity of the train station in the mornings before school, the metro so busy with students and working class individuals. You came into contact with numerous strangers throughout your day to day life.

However, every summer until you were a senior in high school was a different story.

Your parents wanted to keep you humble, you supposed, shipping you off to your grandparents’ for three months. Living in the city kept people too sheltered, too primped and polished for the real world. They wanted you to have that exposure, to experience what it was like to live without the fanciness of urbanization. The nine months out of the year that you spent in the city stunted that exposure, though.

When you’d arrive at their farm, luggage stacked like you were taking a trip to London or Paris, you felt like a glorified version of Regina George. Maybe Blair Waldorf. Elle Woods? You weren’t even rich like that. Your parents were nice, middle class people. There was just something about cow manure and the fear of stepping on a freshly laid egg that made it difficult to adjust to the setting.

It was most likely your stubbornness throughout your childhood that held you back even as you got older and more educated. You thought after graduating high school, the three-months-long “retreat” would come to an end. You’d only need to visit when necessary, maybe a week max. And that was true to an extent. During your university years, you only visited the farm around once a year. You were too consumed with school to even go home sometimes.

And then your grandparents decided to retire.

Their farm had supplied the town over with produce and other home-grown items for as long as you could remember. But they were getting older and no one in the family was willing to inherit the farm or its responsibilities. In celebration of their retirement, they planned a grand vacation to visit multiple countries. Their itinerary spanned an entire summer, just like your trips to the farm when you were younger.

Because you were the only one familiar enough with the area, they enlisted you to housesit while they were gone. You tried to get out of it, but they didn’t trust anyone else as much as you, despite your convictions about country life. So you reluctantly agreed, packing up your things to prepare for another grueling summer at the farm one last time.

But there was a bit of a setback.

”What do you mean someone’s living in the farmhouse behind their house?” You shriek into the receiver, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear as you zip up your final bag. Your mom sighs on the other end.

”Your grandma just only now told me, apparently it slipped her mind,” you can hear the sympathy in her tone. “He’s this boy who grew up in the town and he’s gonna take over the farm for them on the condition that they still live on the property. She said he shouldn’t get in your way and he’s expecting your presence. You’ll only see him if you ever actually go out to the farm and when he brings groceries to the house.”

”Great. Another thing I didn’t sign up for.” You mutter, giving your bedroom a once over to make sure you’re not forgetting anything. “Is there anything else I should know before I get there, like a secret pet or maybe a family living in the attic?”

”Watch the attitude, Y/N,” she warns, and you shut up immediately. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. You’re a grown adult and you’d rather spend your summer going out with your friends, but you already told your grandparents you would do this for them. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You sigh, nodding even though she can’t see it. At least you didn’t have to worry about caring for their farm animals. It was time to think of this as a staycation rather than torture. Sure, your friends were going to be living it up in the Bahamas for a week and your boyfriend was going to be here while you were surrounded by nothing but flat landscape for acres.

Perhaps it was good for you that there would be someone else on the property. You might’ve started to feel scared being alone in the middle of nowhere for so long. Though, your boyfriend probably won’t be the biggest fan of you staying within the vicinity of another man for three months. You’d just deal with that later.

The drive to your grandparents’ farm is actually more peaceful than anything else. Driving for long periods of time wasn’t your favorite thing to do, but doing it by yourself with nothing but your music filling your ears was a sort of therapy. It allowed you to come to terms with your fate for the summer and what it could entail, even if it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind.

Seeing the lush greenery for miles upon miles as you neared their home evoked a sense of tranquility within you. If you kept a positive outlook on your situation, you would make it through these next few months unscathed and your sanity still intact. Maybe you despised the wide open space for years when you were a kid, but now that you’re an adult, you think you could learn to appreciate it and its beauty.

As long as the guy living in the farmhouse didn’t bother you like your grandmother said, everything would be—

Oh.

You pull up in front of the house, already thrown for a loop by the tall, very handsome stranger walking his dog back from the mailbox. His dark hair obscured his eyes, a bandana tied around his neck to match with the one hanging off the Border Collie’s collar. The two turn around at the sound of your engine, stopping in their tracks once you’ve parked.

He brings a hand up to shield the sun from his eyes, watching cautiously as you park slowly. You don’t know why you’re so anxious, it’s not like you’ll be interacting with him much during your stay anyways. There’s something about his slender figure and the fact that he was so clearly dedicated to what he does upon first glance that it makes you feel shy. You suck in a sharp breath before deciding to exit your vehicle, wiping clammy palms on your denim shorts. You’re starting to regret not dressing a little cuter, a little more presentable.

His features soften upon recognizing you, the pretty granddaughter that your grandparents showed him prior to leaving for their trip. The hand sheltering his face falls to his side and he gives you a warm smile, somehow warmer and brighter than the sweltering summer sun. You’d always been told not to talk to strangers, to keep your distance for your own safety, but you can’t help mirroring his expression with a small wave.

“H-Hi,” your voice wobbles and you kind of want to die just a bit. “I’m Y/N. My grandparents mentioned you lived in the farmhouse out back, but didn’t give me a name or face to expect.”

He extends his arm out and you shake his hand, albeit slightly nervously. His eyes squint when he glances between you and his dog. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Yunho, and this is Yeoreum.”

The name is fitting for the red and white colored Border Collie, her tongue sticking out as she stares up at you with big eyes that almost resemble her owner’s. You bend down to pet her, patting the soft tufts of fur on her head and appreciating her licks of excitement. Yunho laughs, whistling to catch her attention.

“Yunho and Yeoreum,” you repeat, a tiny grin on your face. “Befitting. Does she come with the property?”

“Unfortunately, no. She’s spoken for,” he teases, a pout on his features. “But she can visit whenever you’d like. Jokes aside, did you need any help moving stuff into the house?”

”That would be great, actually!” You scratch the back of your neck, lips pursing. Yunho waits for you to unlock the trunk of your car and places Yeoreum’s leash in your possession, making quick work transporting your bags inside. What was just supposed to be some light assistance, has evidently become him doing everything on his own while you stand and look pretty with his dog.

You didn’t bring too much with you since you didn’t have plans to leave while you were housesitting and your grandparents weren’t so old fashioned that they didn’t have a washing machine. Still, you felt useless allowing this stranger you’d just met to do all this manual labor on your behalf.

”Does he always do this?” You murmur to the Border Collie, falling to a seat on the lowest front porch step. She doesn’t give you a response (not that you expected her to), but pants happily in lieu of one, craning her head so you can scratch the spot behind her ear.

“You’re a guest, it’s just good hospitality for me to help.” Yunho says as he comes out of the house, stationing himself in front of you with his hands on his hips, thumbs in his belt loops.

“There’s a difference between helping and doing the work yourself. You’re just being modest,” you push yourself up to hand him Yeoreum’s leash. “But thank you anyway, that was really nice. I’m so tired from driving up here, so I think I would’ve collapsed doing all that back and forth.”

”You should go rest,” he glances at the house behind you. “There’s a whole three months of farm life ahead of you, so don’t wear your pretty little self out just yet.”

Yunho salutes to you and takes his leave, walking around your grandparents’ house toward what you assume is the farmhouse. Your eyes are wide and your cheeks feel hot, and you’re well aware that it’s not because of the summer heat. Your fingers clutch at the material of your t-shirt and you shake it to fan yourself.

It seemed like you were in for a bumpy ride these next few months. But like you reiterated prior to arriving, everything would be just fine so long as you and farm boy went your separate routes and lived your separate lives.

Yeah. Things would be alright. You hope.

It’s a week into your stay on your grandparents’ farm when you bump into Yunho again.

You’re toweling your neck after getting out of the shower, heading into the kitchen to make yourself another bowl of cereal for breakfast. So far the only downside has been your inability to cook a decent meal. Takeout or your boyfriend sleeping over were usually your saving grace, but without having either of those options, you’ve stuck to microwaveable things.

The sight of Yunho unloading groceries onto the counter has you squealing and nearly jumping out of your own skin. He flinches at your volume, knocking over the bag of rice resting against the vase in the center. Thankfully it was still sealed shut, if not there would’ve been a mess of rice grains all over the island counter. His clumsiness has you slapping a palm over your mouth to silence your giggles, not wanting to embarrass him.

”Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you…” You apologize sheepishly, folding your towel over your arm and placing it on a barstool nearby.

“N-No, you’re fine! I shouldn’t have just let myself in, it’s kinda just a habit. You deserve your privacy without having to worry about whether or not I’m gonna barge in unannounced.” He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand. “I’ll just put these up for you and then I’ll be on my way.”

”Can I help?” You waddle over to him, fingers laced behind your back. “I’d feel bad watching you put my groceries away for me after going out and getting them.”

Yunho gestures for you to occupy the space beside him with a small smile that takes solace at the corner of his mouth. The two of you do everything in complete silence, still not entirely used to each other’s presence because of the lack of crossing paths. As you’re finishing up, you start grabbing the items you need for your cereal. He raises an eyebrow at you.

”You don’t want something a little more filling?” He suddenly questions, jutting his chin at your bowl.

”I would love that if I knew how to cook,” you laugh. “Ironic isn’t it? The granddaughter of two farmers can’t cook to save their life.”

Yunho shakes his head with a chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Well, I don’t have to feed the horses for another hour if you’d like for me to whip up something better than a bowl of cereal.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows furrow. Despite growing up with the mindset that you were above the farm life your grandparents tried to impose on you, you hated feeling like you were coming across as entitled. You didn’t want Yunho to think you were lazy or that you were too good. “You don’t have to do that. I can survive on instant ramen and cereal, I swear.”

”Y/N,” he says your name with a certain authority to it, and you’ve never loved the sound of your name coming out of someone else’s mouth so much before. “I want to. I’m not the world’s greatest chef or anything, but I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

”Okay, then,” you nod, taking a seat at the island. You watch in awe as he dances around the kitchen and prepares something for you. It’s weird, not in the sense that you feel awkward around this complete stranger, but because you feel the opposite. You feel comfortable around him, like you’ve known him for a while. It’s almost like Yunho has been a casual part of your life for much longer than a week. He’s easy to get along with, easy to mold into what you’re used to.

And that’s weird because you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who cooks dinner for you most nights, but somehow has never made you feel this taken care of. It throws you off. That should definitely not be the case. How is this man doing this in one week and your boyfriend couldn’t in two years?

The guilt settles in the pit of your stomach quickly. Sure, your boyfriend might’ve had a habit of forgetting important dates and didn’t give you half as much attention as he should’ve, but did that warrant the emotions brewing in your chest? Could that excuse this notion that maybe it was time to finally call it quits?

You zone out as Yunho finishes cooking your breakfast, too inside of your head to even fawn over the doting and slight coddling he was doing. Maybe you need to have a long conversation with Seojun about your relationship and where you want it to go. Perhaps it was a nice idea to invite him out to visit the farm, it could do you both some good.

“Ta-da!” Yunho holds out a plate to you, the sparkle in his eyes effectively pushing out any thoughts of your boyfriend and the shame that was picking at you. You can’t help but reciprocate his expression when you see how delicious the food looks.

He’d made you omurice, the ketchup on top in cute squiggly lines to form whiskers and a little dog face. You accept the plate gratifyingly, your fingers brushing as you do so. He smiles shyly, eyeing you carefully while you take the first bite. You don’t remember the last time you had a home cooked breakfast, accustomed to the occasional muffin at the coffee shop near your house.

”’Not the world’s greatest chef’ my ass,” you grumble, pouting at his humbleness and his inability to be bad at anything. “I might just ask you to have breakfast with me every morning if you can chef it up this well.”

That melodic laugh of his rings in your ears, his elbows resting on the island and his chin in his palms. “I’m sure Yeoreum would appreciate a companion who isn’t me.”

“How long have you had her?” You ask, shoveling more omurice into your mouth. If you weren’t so hungry and so appeased by how delicious it was, you’d feel bad for ruining his hard work. The ketchup no longer looked like a dog, but rather a splatter of red all over your plate.

“Almost four years now. I had her for a year before I met your grandparents. She adores them, so it’s no surprise that she likes you too.” He has this fond gaze in his eyes as he talks about his beloved Border Collie and it makes your heart ache.

The fact that he has such a good relationship with your grandparents seals the deal for you. Well, it would seal the deal if you were single. Yunho is like the ideal man that every parent would want their daughter to bring home. He knows how to cook, knows how to clean. He’s adept around the house, skilled in yard work and other random jobs like fixing leaky pipes and installing new appliances. He’s gentle, but doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.

Your parents would never meet him, though. After the summer was over, you’d be back in Seoul and he would still be here, a distant memory. You forcibly laugh away the thought, excusing it as your response to his words and continuing the conversation about his dog.

Perhaps this stay would be harder to get through than you thought.

As the weeks pass you by, you find yourself becoming more and more infatuated with Jeong Yunho.

Cooking breakfast for you in the morning has become a regular thing. Monitoring him at the stove with sleepy eyes and a mug of fresh coffee in your hands has ingrained itself into your routine. Yeoreum called the spot beneath your stool her own now, laying there as her owner made your food. You think the transition from seeing him as just this comforting presence, this kind individual, to wanting something more was almost too smooth.

Especially right now as you sit on the back porch sipping on some lemonade, admiring the cowboy as he transfers bales of hay from the bed of his pickup truck to the pigpen and the cattle pen. He pauses in between trips, stripping off his flannel and tying it around his waist. He lifts the hem of the white tank top he’s wearing and uses it to wipe sweat from his forehead, revealing the toned abdomen he had been hiding from you up until now.

You feel like you’re going insane, trying to pretend like you’re reading your book as you not so subtly gawk at his muscles straining with each bale he lifts. It’s crazy really, the effect he has on you doing his fucking job. You’ve made it a habit to sit out here and stare at him under the guise of various other things. Aside from being borderline obsessive, it’s horrible because you’re still very much in a relationship.

Most people would feel a hell of a lot worse than you do, like their entire world was crumbling between their fingertips just for finding someone else attractive. But for some reason, as time has continued to roll on, that guilt— that self-preservation— has faded. You’re dipping into another emotion that you’re too scared to explore.

Yunho takes a break from his labor to guzzle down a bottle of water, his chest heaving up and down from exertion. Had you been paying attention to anything other than the view of the handsome man, you would’ve noticed the glass sliding out of your grasp, the condensation becoming far too dense to keep a solid grip on the cup. In the midst of drooling over him, your lemonade falls to the ground with a loud clanging noise.

Your reflexes are only swift enough to save your book, but the drink spills everywhere else and you wince at how embarrassing the situation is. You hurry inside to grab a towel before he can see the mortification enveloping your features. He seemed like the observant type, like one scan of your face could tell him everything he needs to know without a single word exchanged. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, blowing a raspberry while you attempt to regulate your blood pressure.

Through the window above the kitchen sink, you make out a confused Yunho, brows furrowed as he looks in the direction of the house. He worried over you entirely too much, particularly when you take into account the fact that all you did was think about him in manners not necessarily safe for work. Maybe you were just delirious. That was the only logical explanation for why you’re spiraling.

The high temperatures of the summer coupled with your surroundings are contributing to your change in behavior. Yes. That made sense. You weren’t crazy.

With a bit more reprieve, you’re able to grab a tea towel and head back outside to clean up your mess. (Not unaccompanied by a couple glances in Yunho’s direction, but that’s fine. Perfectly healthy even. It’s normal to check up on a friend. At least, that’s what you tell yourself, but who’s holding you accountable?)

“You know you’ve been making me breakfast every morning without asking for anything in return,” you speak up one morning, chin resting on the island. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

Yunho purses his lips as he hands you your plate. “Nah, I like cooking for you.”

You try to ignore the way that has your heart fluttering in your chest, try to ignore the warmth blooming beneath your skin. Your eyes glance down at your food to avoid eye contact, bringing your chopsticks up to your lips. “Okay, well I wanna do something for you.”

Despite mumbling the words, he hears you anyway and smiles to himself as he takes a sip from his mug. He rolls up the sleeves of his denim button up, reaching down to scratch behind Yeoreum’s ear, the area that you’ve learned is her favorite. She pants joyfully, jumping on his leg excitedly. He looks between the two of you.

”Missy here needs a bath,” he says, cooing at her. “I was gonna give her one later, after I cleaned out the stables, but if you don’t mind doing it.”

”I’d do just about anything for that precious girl,” you nod enthusiastically. “Consider it done.”

This is how you end up out back, dog shampoo in one hand and the water hose in the other.

Yeoreum’s signature bandana and collar lay on one of the rocking chairs on the porch, the dog looking so different without her accessories as you prepare to bathe her. You wet her fur generously, squeezing enough shampoo into your palm to lather it on. Compared to your childhood pets, she’s pretty well behaved.

She’s probably one of the only dogs who’s ever actually enjoyed taking a bath, sitting still for you while you scrub and rinse and repeat. You take your time with cleaning her, wanting to make sure you do your best as a thank you for every plate Yunho has ever made you. Usually, this isn’t something you would jump at the opportunity to do. Somehow, being back at the farm this past month or so has done everything your parents tried to do when you were younger.

It could’ve had to do with the desensitization of being here every summer for so long that it just never stuck when you were grade school age. But now, fully grown and experiencing this all over again on your own, with new faces at your side, it’s like you’re being exposed to something different. You can see why your mom and dad didn’t want the city life to become a dependency.

You preferred the view of cabs and cafés over cows and chickens in the past, but now you found a sense of familiarity in them. You’d always want to go home as soon as you got here. Unlike other kids, you wanted your summer to be over as quickly as possible. You couldn’t imagine going home after this, though. This unveiled attachment to the farm you detested when you were younger could only be accredited to one person, and it was a little frightening.

He constantly brought out parts of you that you didn’t know existed. This enigma, the one that emphasized how big of a role he’s fulfilling in the short period of time you’ve been here, drills itself into your brain every day. You knew you had to acknowledge it sooner or later, but it was just less of a hassle to act like it wasn’t screaming at you. Your fear of change was a more pertinent issue to ignore, so you let it consume all else.

While getting lost in your thoughts, Yeoreum starts shaking and startles you, causing your hold on the hose to loosen, water spraying everywhere. The diversion has you losing your footing and slipping in the mud. You shriek, though it does nothing to block the stream that drenches you, your clothes getting wet. The universe decides it’s not on your side, because you happened to wear a white shirt. Why you chose to do that when you knew you were bathing a dog, you have no clue, but it was a little too late for regrets.

Yeoreum jumps out of the basin you had her in and runs to the farmhouse just as Yunho’s walking out, fresh from the shower. You forgot that he was cleaning the stables at the same time you were giving the Border Collie her bath, but now you’re starting to wish you waited until afterward just in case you needed the assistance. And well, you definitely needed the assistance.

Plucking the tail end of the mishap, Yunho’s initial reaction is to laugh at your misfortune, but the closer he gets to the scene, the laughter dies out in his throat. Your top is sheer enough that he can map out the outline of your black bra. It leaves very little to the imagination and he thinks he might fall to his knees right here.

Since your grandparents told him that you’d be house sitting while they were away and proudly showcased a photo of you, he’s been enthralled by you. You had the face of an angel, or maybe a really enticing demon, he hasn’t cogitated it much yet.

He swallows thickly, hoping to keep his composure as he makes his way to you. His hand is a little shaky when it reaches to take the hose from you, squeezing his eyes closed and switching off the water. He stays there for a few seconds to mentally prep himself for an up-close-and-personal look at you, even going as far as holding his breath.

“Uh— you— um— you should go inside and dry off before you catch a cold,” Yunho keeps his eyes cast downward. He’s grateful that you don’t note how red the tips of his ears are, or how he thinks the sky is suddenly much more interesting than your face.

Your head cocks to the side in confusion. “What do you mean ‘before I catch a cold’? It’s, like, a million degrees out.”

“The temperature drops at night and the sun’s setting soon. I’ll handle it from here. Yeoreum ran off, so I gotta chase after her anyway and I don’t think you want her to soak you more than she already has.” He’s insistent on shooing you away and getting you inside of the house. You huff.

”Okay… If you say so…”

Reluctantly, you spin around and traverse back. The draft of the air conditioning has you shivering, rubbing up and down your arms as you enter the bathroom to inspect the damage. Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when you finally see yourself. No wonder Yunho was so adamant on staving you off like you were the plague.

In your defense, you didn’t think the hose won the battle by that much. You assumed you’d just gotten everything above your shoulders wet, but no. You were practically doused head to toe. And the clear display of your brassiere under your clothes was the last thing on your mind.

He was stronger than you. Actually, he was a more respectful person than you. You would’ve gawked at him shamelessly if the roles were reversed. But at least you’re self aware! Right? The first step in recognizing that you have a problem, is admitting that you have a problem. That’s what you think they say in those addiction commercials, but you could be wrong.

Wow. Now you were comparing him to drugs. Though, you suppose there isn’t that huge of a difference. Both had equal success rates in terms of getting people high and then making it hard to wane off their effects.

You really had to quit it with the metaphor usage.

It’s around midnight that night when the lightbulb in the bathroom goes out, halting you from finishing your bedtime routine.

You’re exhausted to say the least, face damp from washing it and one of those fuzzy hairbands with the animal ears perched on your head. You were ready to crash out, but there were still a couple things you needed to do before that. It was proving to be a little difficult in the pitch black bathroom. The window above the shower was too narrow to provide any sufficient moonlight.

With a low grumble, you shuffle into your slippers and make the short trek from your grandparents’ house to Yunho in the farmhouse. You hug yourself when a strong breeze blows past, your flimsy t-shirt and sleep shorts doing hardly anything to block the cool summer night’s air.

A piece of you feels a little bad for bothering him so late, but you have no idea how to change a lightbulb. You don’t even know where the lightbulbs are. Besides, you think you’d electrocute yourself if you made an attempt to do it on your own.

You huff out a sigh and bring your knuckles up to knock at his door, waiting patiently for a response. He’s not asleep, you know this because he’s mentioned that his internal clock doesn’t turn off until two in the morning. Circadian rhythms were an odd concept, so to each their own.

“Yunho! It’s Y/N! Open up!”

When a few minutes have passed, you try the knob. Maybe it was a bit… too presumptuous of you to enter his home without explicit permission. Yes, you’d known each other for the better part of a month and a half, and yes, you’d gotten very close in that timeframe, but did that constitute your actions?

Whether or not the answer to that question was a yes or a no, you really wish you would’ve just waited outside. As you venture further in search of the cowboy, you stumble upon something you shouldn’t have.

Standing in the hallway on the other side of his bedroom, the door ajar at least an inch, you catch a glimpse of him on his bed. That white tank top you’re so used to seeing him in is between his teeth, eyebrows knit together in pure pleasure as he fists his cock with a purpose. His nostrils are flared and whiny moans escape from behind the fabric.

His head falls back every now and then, eyes fluttering shut when he runs his thumb over the slit. He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice you, too entranced with chasing his high. Your lips part as you watch him fuck up into his hand, his shirt slipping from his mouth when he groans out a curse.

Just as quickly as you become distracted by the sight of Yunho jerking off, you become aware of what you’re doing. You flee the scene before you get yourself caught, exiting the farmhouse as quietly as you can. The lightbulb can wait until morning, it wasn’t that important, honestly. You’re in a daze the entire walk back to your grandparents house, goosebumps littering your arms and the image of him in such an obscene state burned into your brain.

You fall backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling in hopes of willing away the path your mind is beginning to wander towards. All you can think about is the sight of him so desperate for release, large hand wrapped around his dick, abdomen contracting with need. You know you weren’t supposed to see, weren’t supposed to bear witness to something so personal.

It’s difficult to push out the nasty, inappropriate thoughts clouding your head. His expressions contorted into absolute bliss. His slender fingers could probably do so much more than your own, could probably reach places you’d never even dreamed of. And fuck, his dick, prettier and bigger than any other you’ve ever seen.

Your chest blushes with heat, an embarrassment washing over you when you realize you’re turned on. You should feel terrible for intruding on Yunho’s privacy like that, especially without him knowing, but all you can do is want him more than you already do. That craving for something deeper, carnal, fans the flame engulfing you, dragging you further into the sick and twisted hell you’ve created for yourself.

Yunho has been nothing but welcoming, kind and gentle with you, someone he didn’t even know the name of until last month. Someone who’s done everything in their power to repress this lifestyle for so long. And for some reason, it just comes so easily with him. You don’t feel forced to enjoy living on the farm. He makes you laugh and puts a smile on your face effortlessly. He has you wondering if life can actually be this simple.

But when all is said and done, there will be somebody else waiting for you back home. Somebody who doesn’t know how to whip up omurice with freshly laid eggs. Somebody who isn’t even a dog person, who thinks pets are nuisances. Somebody who doesn’t live in the farmhouse behind your grandparents’. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

If you touch yourself with tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought of the man who has eyes that resemble the night sky, well that’s between you and whatever higher being exists out there.

You sit across from Yunho with bated breath, afraid that if you opened your mouth he would know your dirty secret. You avoid his eyes for the same reason, like one good look at you would reveal what you were trying to hide.

Yunho himself was doing his best to pretend like he hadn’t masturbated to the thought of you last night. He liked to think he was good at keeping his feelings under wraps. It wasn’t like he didn’t know you were in a relationship, he’s heard you on the phone before. He stays silent as he fries rice in a pan and has some bread in the toaster. The only sounds in the kitchen are sizzling and the pants coming from Yeoreum under your stool.

In the time that you’ve been here, never once has it been awkward between you like this. The conversation usually doesn’t stop flowing, rolling on and on and filtering into things that don’t pertain to the original subject. He rarely has his back to you for too long, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a grin every here and now.

Both of you go to speak at the same time as a means of salvaging the morning from eternal strain. You stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Truly, you were two birds of a feather, or however that saying goes.

”Sorry, I don’t know why I’m being so quiet today,” Yunho says, though he knows it’s a lie. “I guess I had a long night.”

”Oh, that reminds me,” his mention of the previous night has you recalling the reason you went out to the farmhouse in the first place. “The light in my bathroom went out, do you think you can fix it for me?”

“Yeah, for sure,” he begins preparing your plate. “Actually, I have this joke about lightbulbs. You wanna hear it?”

Your lips curl into a smile, already attempting to hold back your laughter. With a raised eyebrow, you respond, “What is it?”

”What did the lightbulb say to the light switch?” He asks nonchalantly, taking a bite from his own piece of toast. You’re failing miserably at acting like you don’t think the joke is funny, although he hasn’t even told you the punchline yet.

”I dunno, Yunho, what did the lightbulb say to the light switch?”

“‘You turn me on.’”

There’s a pregnant pause as the joke resonates and you can’t stop yourself from cackling at how stupid it is. He joins in, but mostly because your laughter is contagious. His chest swells with pride at his successful landing, feeling like he’s on top of the world just for bringing a smile to your face. God, he was down tremendously bad.

Your spoon clatters onto the counter as you lean over, a hand clapped over your mouth as your boisterous laughing simmers into a giggle. Yunho leans into you slightly, matching your energy as he munches on his toast. This is what has you conflicted, so at war with yourself. The proximity should have you pulling away, but something about him always reels you in, despite the consequences that await.

And unfortunately, those consequences come to a head today.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N?”

You and Yunho jump back, whipping towards the source of the voice. Seojun stands there, his bags at his feet and his face crestfallen, disbelief written all over it. He shakes his head and turns to leave, you stumbling off of the barstool to follow behind him. The guilt you’ve only ever felt momentarily settles deep in your chest and deep in your stomach, though you technically haven’t done anything wrong.

Your abruptness startles Yeoreum and she’s up in a heartbeat, tailing behind you curiously. Yunho has to rush to stop her, but a part of himself wants to do the same. No matter how much he likes you, he’s never wanted to be the cause of your relationship falling apart. He wanted you organically, not like this.

”Seojun! Wait!” You call after him, holding up a hand to block out the harsh sunlight, tripping over your slippers. He scoffs.

“What am I waiting for? You to spew some bullshit about how nothing’s going on between the two of you? I’m not fucking stupid, Y/N. I’m not blind.” He pops open his trunk and throws his bags in haphazardly.

”You’re being unreasonable,” you exclaim, rounding the car so you’re directly in front of him. “There is nothing going on. We’ve just gotten to know each other since we live in the same vicinity. Did you want me to stay here for three months and hole myself away with no other human contact?”

“He was just supposed to be the guy who lived in the farmhouse. He wasn’t supposed to bother you. That’s what you told me, remember?” Seojun is losing his patience, something that has always been the root of the problem when you’ve gotten into past arguments. “How do you expect me to react when I come to surprise you and see you being so close to another man?”

“I was laughing at a joke he told me. You’re making this a bigger deal than it is and blowing everything completely out of proportion. I’m sorry that it never came up that we became friends, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve never once cheated on you in the three years we’ve been together and for you to accuse me of that is so fucking low of you.” You’re not going to cry, not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s won. He thrives off of seeing your vulnerability and you won’t let him have it.

“I saw the way he was looking at you,” he seethes, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “I know that look because that’s how I used to look at you.”

A laugh devoid of any humor leaves you and he blinks. “That’s how you ‘used to’ look at me? When did you stop? And why am I just finding this out?”

”That’s not— that isn’t what I meant, Y/N—“

”No, Seojun. You did,” you glance away from him, nipping at the inside of your cheek. “We’re grasping for straws. We aren’t going anywhere anymore and we haven’t for a while now. That’s why we're standing here arguing over this. I just want to know why you didn’t just tell me.”

”I’m too complacent,” he sighs, breathing through his nose. “I was too comfortable with you and I didn’t know how to let you go or walk away. But you’re right, there isn’t anything for us to save, and it seems like we’re both ready to move on.”

“What does that mean?”

“I saw how you were looking at him, too. You might not have acted on it, but you have feelings for him. I’m not gonna stay and hold you back.” Seojun unlocks his car, opening the door. “And for what it’s worth, you won’t be wasting your time.”

You don’t respond, instead humming and letting him drive off. Once his car is far enough out of your view, you go back into the house. There’s an indescribable emotion that hostages you, binding your wrists and tying you down metaphorically. You can’t seem to shake it.

Yunho is still in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with Yeoreum to keep her calm. He gazes up at you expectantly and you feel the tears you were suppressing from Seojun bubbling up. If you weren’t going to cry in front of your (now ex) boyfriend, you definitely weren’t going to cry in front of him.

With a trembling exhale, you force yourself to say, “I need to be alone.”

He understands empathetically, clipping on Yeoreum’s leash and leaving the house in the same breath. That in itself has you crying like a baby the moment you’re all by yourself. You hold your face in your hands, body shuddering with each sob you release.

I saw the way he was looking at you.

I saw how you were looking at him, too.

You had a lot to think about, and everything always seemed to circle back to Jeong Yunho.

A couple days escape you before you register you haven’t seen much of Yunho. After your breakup with Seojun, you really did need a bit of room to process it all, but you hadn’t realized just how much you depended on the cowboy’s presence until you were missing it.

You hadn’t meant to push him away, if that’s how he saw it. A night of bawling your eyes out with a pint of ice cream and The Vow was enough to cure you. However, it appears that he thought you needed more, going as far as putting a pin in your daily breakfast ritual. You aren’t sure how to extend an olive branch when you weren’t even trying to cause a rift between you in the first place.

Being with someone for three years may not seem like a lot, but that fraction of your life is stuck with you, like a thumbtack that refuses to come out of the wall. You’d had boyfriends before Seojun, but they weren’t nearly as serious. There weren't formal introductions between parents, no late night conversations that bleed into early mornings, no sleepovers and quick kisses before work.

Of course, after a certain point, those had just become habitual. You weren’t doing them because they evoked a sense of love or care anymore, but rather because you were familiar with them. It was safer to continue the pattern of waking up and falling asleep to Seojun on the other side of the bed, the intrusion of sunlight and the cacophony of traffic outside your window, even if you didn’t really want to.

And then you came here.

Somehow, returning to your grandparents’ farm was exactly what you needed to break through that cycle. As much as you would love to attest it to your location and discovering the appreciation your family wanted you to feel for it, you know the real reason. It’s all thanks to a certain cowboy.

Yunho’s feelings for you run far deeper than he could’ve imagined. He doesn’t know the extent of what happened with you and Seojun, but he thinks putting distance between you is better in the long run anyway. On the off chance you’re still together, he wants to preserve his heart. He’s handed it to someone else too easily in the past and he doesn’t want to make that mistake with you if you don’t feel the same.

But even on the off chance that you’ve broken up, he still wants to stop himself from falling further and harder than he already has. Without ill will, he doubts that you would give up the life you have in the city for this, for him. He’ll be perpetually chained to being a faint imprint on your memory of the summer. You’ll think back to the months you spent here and he’ll have played only a minor role.

It was wishful thinking, too hopeful of him to presume this would lead to a happy ending. You were from different worlds, led different lives. It was time for him to be realistic. And that meant implementing the space that was supposed to exist between you from the get go.

Though, you make it difficult when he bumps into you on the way back from the mailbox. Déjà vu, anyone?

Yeoreum is excited to see you, jumping onto her haunches to lick your face when you kneel to her level. You giggle, squeezing one eye shut as you balance yourself and hold her still so her weight doesn’t clamber you both onto the ground. Your fingers pet to top of her head softly as you coo, “Who’s a good girl?”

Yunho physically winces when his chest tightens at the sight of his two favorite girls. The word ‘distance’ bounces around his head like a pinball, reminding him what he’s supposed to be doing. He just can’t bring himself to walk away. Especially when you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

“Hey…” You start, steeling your tone to ensure it’s even. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you or something. I needed some time to myself to figure things out. It wasn’t my intention to shut you out and put you on the back burner.”

”No, it’s okay. I had to figure stuff out on my own, too,” he uses his bandana to dab at the sweat perspiring on his forehead. “Did you sort through whatever you needed to?”

“I did,” you nod, standing upright. “Seojun and I broke up, so I had to sit with my feelings for a bit. We’ve been together for so long, I think I needed to remember what it was like to be without him, and then I realized that’s basically what I’ve been doing since I came here.”

”Oh.” Yunho’s lips form an ‘O’ shape, hands dragging down the sides of his pants. “I’m sorry— um— about your breakup.”

”Don’t be,” you smile, dismissing his sympathy. “It was a long time coming, honestly. We weren’t really in the relationship wholeheartedly anymore. There wasn’t a point in stringing it along, you know? But that’s enough about me, did you figure your own things out?”

”I thought I did,” he says, which is true considering he’d been mulling over what to do with his emotions subsequent to your argument with your ex. “And then I kinda steered off course. It’s alright, though, I think I like the new conclusion I’ve come to a lot better.”

You might be on the same page now, but there was an entire discussion that had to happen to solidify that. Following a very emotionally charged past couple days, you could do without that today. You’re both just glad that the air is cleared and you can resume building the bond that began forming the moment you stepped foot onto the farm, no restrictions whatsoever.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?”

You glance up from your book, this time genuinely reading it as Yunho fed the chickens and cleaned up their coop. He towers over you while he asks the question, his shadow thwarting off any direct sunlight. Your nose scrunches.

“When I was in, like, middle school? It’s been a minute,” you answer, making sure to bookmark the page you stopped at. “Why?

”Would you let me teach you how to do it again?” He nips at his lower lip, like he’s nervous you’ll say no. The truth of the matter is you’d say yes even if he asked you to commit arson, which is kind of a problem.

“That sounds fun,” you shrug. “What time should I be ready?”

”Uh, now?”

Okay, so sitting on a horse did not seem this scary when you were twelve.

It probably had to do with you being fearless and whatnot, but also because you did whatever your grandparents asked just to appease them. The faster you got off the damn horse, the faster you could go back inside and situate yourself in front of the TV. They thought they were making progress with you, but really you were outsmarting the outsmarters.

Sweat glazes on the underside of your hands, disrupting the security of your grasp on the reins. Yunho thought it would be wiser if he stayed on foot, guiding you and the horse around the perimeter of the pen. You hoped you didn’t look as afraid as you were, but you’re certain the slight quiver of your bottom lip gives it away.

“You’re doing fine, Y/N,” he reassures, maintaining a comforting amount of eye contact with you.

”Am I? Or does it just seem that way because you’re pulling the horse?” You quip, gripping the reins tighter when it steps over a rock and you sway a little. Your tone is laced with sarcasm, something Yunho hasn’t heard much of from you since you’ve met, but he thinks it’s cute that you resort to violence when you’re scared.

You notice the quirk of his mouth and how he’s trying not to laugh at your terror. It pisses you off solely because his humor isn’t unwarranted. You are being a bit over dramatic. He unties his bandana from around his neck and tosses it to you. “So you don’t callus your hands.”

He’s too thoughtful, too considerate for his own good, but that’s what roped you in. Even when you met for the first time, he had you figured out. The longer you stare at him, the more you realize just how perfect he is. If you were still in school and you were tasked with writing an essay about the summer you spent here, you’re sure the words would flow onto the pages flawlessly, without skipping a beat. Your prose would be so beautifully written, that even the most notable authors would be envious of your experience.

The only downside of this was the fact that time was beginning to seep through your fingers. There was mutuality in your feelings for each other, that was almost unequivocal. You were both just hesitant in taking that first leap. The uncertainty lied with that goodbye at the end of August, the one that’ll hurt a lot more than it was supposed to. But you know that postponing your unceremonious declaration of feelings would just do more harm than anything else.

One consistency you’ve singled out since coming back to the farm is this common theme of divine intervention, or fate, whatever you want to call it. Right when you’re on the brink of an epiphany, you’re always forcefully shoved into it, like a freight train crashing into its platform traveling at full speed. This moment is no different.

Yeoreum barking at a squirrel on the other side of the pen scares the horse who’s back you were currently on. It bucks up and you release the reins in alarm. You fall quickly, but Yunho’s quicker, catching you in his arms like it’s been a childhood dream of his to be a superhero. He searches your face for any indication that you might be hurt, a hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The eyes you’ve grown to adore examine your own with so much care that you find yourself melting in his hold. Your face instinctively leans into his palm, fingers still clutching the fabric of his shirt like he may drop you.

It’s nearly second-nature to minimize the gap between you.

You never understood what novelists meant when they described kissing scenes. And you think that’s because you’d never truly had a kiss like this before. It was as if they were all talking about this second, this blip in time. The sparks that shoot from where your lips meet to the tips of your fingers, the thump-thump-thump of your heartbeat in your ears, the sensation of never wanting to escape, never wanting to stop.

Yunho’s hand snakes behind your head, tangling in your hair to deepen the connection. It’s hungry. It’s desperate. It’s too much. It’s not enough. Everything that had been stacking on top of each other was leading to this, the collision that rivaled the Big Bang. You whine into his lips, an invitation but also an inquiry.

He parts from you just so he can catch his breath, his forehead resting on yours. “Can I take you inside?”

You nod fervently. “Yes. Please.”

He wastes no time hauling you to the farmhouse. His grip on your wrist is gentle as he pulls you into his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and trapping you between his legs. Your restraint wears thin, nimble fingers fumbling with the rest of the buttons on his denim shirt. You push it off of his shoulders, a bit shell shocked when you discover that he’s wearing a regular t-shirt as opposed to his usual tank top.

“You would pull something like this today of all days,” you laugh breathily, untucking the shirt from his pants. He reciprocates the sentiment, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck while you undress him.

“Is it evil of me to say I was sorta hoping this would happen?” He speaks into your exposed collarbone, nipping, sucking, biting the skin. Your appreciative sigh goads him, his tongue gliding across the abused surface as a form of relief.

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head, fast to yank off his shirt and run your nails down his abdomen. “I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

“Yeah?” Yunho flips the two of you easily so you’re the one on the bed now. He pushes up the hem of your shirt, pecking your stomach to your clavicle as he shows more and more of your skin until the fabric is removed from your body. “Can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

You involuntarily moan, completely untouched and because of his words alone. Every part of you feels like it’s lit ablaze, burning with want and need and everything in between. This ran further than just what-ifs and late night fantasies. Your relationship with Yunho tiptoed on the edge of something you’ve never known before, and that makes this so much more special.

He glances up at you when his fingers reach for the button of your shorts, a silent ask for permission. You give him the green light and hold yourself up on your elbows, watching with your breathing trapped in your throat as he rids of your panties along with them. His hands push your knees to your chest, kissing your inner thighs and right around the place you need him most, but never there.

“Yunho…” You warn, but it comes across as a broken whimper rather than an establishment of authority. He laughs and then his lips are pressing to your clit, a sweet kiss that has all rationality taking a vacation from your brain. Your head tips back and you fist at the sheets.

He drags his tongue through your folds, swirling it around the sensitive bundle of nerves each time it makes its return. It’s almost criminal how good it feels to have his mouth on your cunt, eyes already heavy lidded with pleasure. He sucks on your clit at the same time he decides to insert a finger into your entrance, curling it experimentally just because he can. Like you predicted, it reaches that spongy spot at the crook of your pussy, brushing it once he’s sure he’s found it.

While you walked in on him fucking his fist, the only thing on his mind was you. He was so absorbed in the mental image of what you would look like beneath him, wiggling, writhing, squirming with indulgence. His social awareness was at a zero. This replayed over and over until he came, his thoughts so vivid he could’ve swore it was real.

But this, the actual thing, was so much better; his forearm pinning your hips down, his middle finger curling and uncurling inside of you, his mouth working overtime to inch you towards the edge of that steep cliff. He moans when your eyebrows practically coalesce, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. You look so gorgeous like this, so disoriented all because of the bliss he was providing. The vibrations of the sound have you arching your back, uncontrollable whines running from your mouth.

“Feel good?” Yunho asks, disconnecting his mouth and replacing it with his other hand, ring and middle digits swiping across your clit with practiced pressure.

“Mhm,” you nod frantically, eyes on the brink of rolling to the back of your head. “Feels so good, Yun… Just like that, ‘m almost there.”

That’s all he needs to hear, switching his hand and mouth once again, focusing on alternating harsh and gentle sucks of your clit, adding a second finger to pump in and out of your hole. The doubled change in stimulation knocks the wind out of you, the precipice of your orgasm so close you can taste it. You’d never been brought to the summit this early in the past, and you think Yunho deserves some sort of reward for being the first to do so.

You’d worry about that later though, because you’re blindsided by it before you can even conjure your next thought. You cum with a cry, tears springing to your eyes from the immense amount of ecstasy coursing through your veins, swimming in your bloodstream. Yunho coos at you, not stopping until you’ve relaxed in his hold. “That’s it, baby, you’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your head feel airy, like empty space unoccupied by anything. If you paid attention in chemistry, then you’d know that’s highly impossible, but you didn’t. The only chemistry you even remotely care about is the one between you and Yunho, the tension that has piled higher and higher for days on end until its crescendo now.

You sit up to kiss him roughly, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips. He smiles into it, a hand raising to caress the underside of your jaw. He climbs onto the bed, scooting you up so you’re positioned by the pillows. It doesn’t take much effort for your bodies to swap, his back to the headboard. You clumsily seat yourself on his lap, a knee on either side of him and sighing wistfully when his mouth trails down your throat and sternum, slender fingers sneaking behind you to unclasp your bra.

He aids you in removing his pants, still simultaneously prioritizing kisses all over your bare chest. When you’re both fully naked, you take your time admiring his cock. It’s just as pretty as you remember, long and thick. Your hand wraps around it gingerly, stroking the length as you lean down to kiss him again. You don’t think you could ever get enough of his lips on your own.

“I’m not exactly getting any action over here, so I don’t have any condoms,” he says into your kiss, voice no louder than a whisper.

“That’s okay,” you run your fingers through his hair. “Wanna feel you anyways, all of you.”

”Fuck, Y/N, you can kill a man with those words.” He groans, nails digging into your hips. You giggle, but it’s interrupted by him sitting you fully, his dick slipping through your lower lips. A whine brushes his ear when the tip catches your clit, repeating the movement until you can’t stay still.

The closest you’ll ever get to Heaven on earth is Yunho’s cock pushing inside of you, filling you up so deliciously you think you could die like this. Your jaw slackens, hands coming up to support yourself on his shoulders. Even if this is a one time thing, something that never happens again during your stay at the farm, he wants you to remember this when you go back home. He wants you to recall this sliver in your timeline and never forget it, wants his name engraved in your memory like a branding iron.

Once he feels you’ve adjusted to him well enough, he pulls you off of him almost entirely, just to ram back in without mercy. He punches a voluminous moan from you, eyes watching where he disappears in you and reemerges. You’re tighter and so much warmer than he dreamed you’d be, but it’s perfect. You suck him in like a vacuum, as if his cock was made to be inside of you, as if you didn’t want him to part from you.

“You’re s-so deep, Yun,” you mewl, pulling him in for another headache-inducing kiss. “Don’t wanna stop.”

He exhales through his nostrils, mumbling out a curse when your walls squeeze around him. He wanted to last a while for you, wanted to hold out and prolong this moment until you were both on the crest of passing out. But you feel like a glove, your silk-adjacent cunt begging for more and more.

“Think I might cum soon, princess,” he groans, tossing his head back and just about losing every ounce of his sanity when your lips start marking the column of his throat.

His big hands move under your thighs, holding you in place so he can fuck up into you. The pace at which his cock drills in and out of your pussy has you seeing stars, eyes snapping shut and nothing but colorful spots decorating your vision. You were already abhorrently sensitive following your first orgasm, so it didn’t really take much to introduce the second.

Your hips stutter and it washes over you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering and collapsing into his top half. He pulls out of you quickly, mouth stationed by your ear as he jerks himself off until he’s painting your backside. He moans, a lot like the sounds he was making the other night, and you feel the need to just kiss him again.

Your lips lock sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous actions. Yunho curves a hand on your cheek, seperating from you the smallest distance so he can admire you. The smile that etches onto his expression makes you dizzier than anything else. However, the cutesiness can only span so long before the setting gives way.

Yunho’s hand snakes in between you, his forefinger sliding up and down your slit teasingly. Your breath comes out shaky, your face finding purchase in the crook of his neck. He replaces the digit with his middle finger, parting your pussy lips in search of your clit. It doesn’t take him very long to find it, rubbing tight circles into the engorged skin. You moan into his shoulder, resting your forehead on it to see the way he works your cunt.

“You’re so wet, baby. Have I not fucked you enough?” He whispers into your ear huskily. Yunho talking dirty to you is something you didn’t know you needed in your life. His finger slips downward, thrusting up into your hole with ease. He keeps massaging your clit with his palm, the stimulation making your head woozy.

“Mmmph— Yun, god. Feels too good.” You whine, gyrating your hips on his hand.

“Is that right, babe?” He encourages, adding a second finger and increasing the speed of their thrusts, almost like you hadn’t been in this position already. “I can’t wait to feel this tight little pussy around my cock again. Gonna fuck you harder than the last.”

Your whimpers raise in volume, focusing on the way he curls his digits in you, applying pressure with the heel of his palm to the circles he’s rubbing into your clit. You can sense your third orgasm approaching, warmth flooding your cheeks at how embarrassingly fast he worked you back up. Your walls clench around his fingers, alerting him of how close you are. He pauses, worming his body down so his face is eye level with your cunt again.

Yunho does the whole teasing thing a second time, kissing and suckling the hot skin of your belly, knowingly denying you of your release. You grab a handful of his hair, tugging at the ends to spur him on. He groans, giving into you and licking a straight line up your slit. He inserts both fingers again, this time using his tongue to manipulate your swollen clit.

The heat of Yunho’s mouth makes your insides ache, the necessity to cum intensifying. You keen loudly, desperately, needily, the sight of the brunette between your legs so incredibly arousing. He sucks on your throbbing clit, his long fingers as deep as they can go, and you crumble.

“Oh my god— oh my god— I’m cumming! I’m—” You cut yourself off, convulsing under him. He laps up as much of your juices as he can, coating his chin with your release. You moan as you pull him towards you to unify your lips, a mixture of your saliva and cum connect your mouths in strings. At this point, the sex is messier than anything you could’ve plucked from your wildest dreams.

One hand trails down your body, using your nimble fingers to play with your sensitive clit when he starts fisting his cock in preparation to enter your pussy again. You use your free hand to scratch at his contracting abs. He hisses, propping himself up with one arm next to your head and his eyes trained on the way you finger yourself at the same time. You can feel his breath on your cheeks and being in this proximity to him fuels your yearning.

“Please, Yun… Need you back inside of me,” you whimper. Rubbing your clit with your own fingers isn’t satisfying enough, not with him here in front of you, not when you know how good he can make you feel.

“Fuck, baby, when you beg like that I don’t know if I can hold back.” He chuckles lowly. It rumbles from his chest, shooting to your core.

“So don’t,” you rouse. “This is more than just a one time thing for me, Yunho.”

His eyes widen just a bit, your confession catching him off guard. That’s all he needs to line himself up with your hole, hooking his forearm under your knee as he slides in, stretching your cunt so perfectly with his perfect cock. “Shit— you’re so tight, princess… It’s almost like I didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life.” He moans and spreads your legs wider. He bottoms out with a grunt, throwing his head back from the feeling of your velvety walls. A near deafening cry is ripped from your vocal cords. He nips at your neck, starting to piston his hips.

His thrusts don’t slow but become calculated, speeding up and diving deep simultaneously. It only took a short amount of time to figure out what you liked and he used it to his advantage. Yunho hikes your knee to your chest, groping your tits with his free hand. He twists and tugs at your nipples just hard enough that it contributes to your pleasure rather than hurts you.

It’s as if he doesn’t feel buried inside of you sufficiently, because he decreases his pace to press and fold your other leg up, his hips ramming into your ass with each thrust now. The tip of his cock kisses at what feels like your cervix. That familiar coil begins to fasten again, keening with every drive into your cunt. The squelching noises would’ve made you cower in shame with anyone else, but with Yunho it turns you on further.

You moan, and he flattens his hand on the lower part of your stomach. Yunho groans, biting the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. Your fingers find your clit again, circling insatiably to get yourself off.

“You gonna cum for me again?” He rasps, his hold on your legs almost painful. The backs of your thighs burn, but you endure it for the sake of the moment. You reach up and behind yourself, grabbing at the headboard in an attempt to match his force.

“Oh my god, yes— yes yes yes yes,” you babble, the syllables blurring together like your mind. “Gonna cum so hard for you, Yunho. Keep going, please.”

His lips attach to yours, tongues tangling sloppily. The position you’re in is on the opposite end of the spectrum from how you were expecting this summer reunion to go. Had you not been made aware of Yunho living here at the last minute, you probably would’ve backed out of your commitment to staying. Deep down you’re a little too thankful that your grandmother mentioned him when it was too late to reconsider.

“I think I’m in love with you, Y/N,” Yunho whispers into your mouth.

You let go of the headboard, cupping his jaw and kissing him lovingly. “Me too.”

Your fingers speed up and so do his thrusts, perfectly timed with each other to shove you both towards your highs. You’re on the cusp of falling apart, arching into him to close the gap between your bodies.

“Wanna cum inside you. Can I?” Yunho grunts.

“Yes yes, please. Fill me up, Yun, want all of you.”

He continues to abuse your cunt, pounding into you like his life depended on it. You sob, clamping your walls around him. He freezes, suddenly spilling into you. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock.” The warmth of his release and his words coax your orgasm, the fluttering of your cunt milking every single drop from him that it can. Even with his dick plugging you up, you can feel it dripping out of you and onto the sheets below.

He rocks into you languidly until you’ve calmed down enough for him to pull out. His forehead is flush on your chest, rising and falling with it, both of you so spent from the intense physical activity you engaged in. You stare up at the ceiling with heavy eyelids, carding your fingers through his hair to soothe him.

“You meant what you said right? About this not being a one time thing.” Yunho says hesitantly, like he’s afraid of permeating the atmosphere you created.

“I don’t think I can go home at the end of the summer and forget the way I feel for you, Yunho.” You admit out loud. There had been a constant struggle in your head over whether or not to follow your heart, but as he looks at you with those sparkly eyes of his, you know your answer. And you feel a little stupid for ever considering the counter.

“And what exactly are those feelings?” He pushes, folding his hands on your sternum and laying his cheek on top. You giggle, brushing his hair out of his view. As tempting as it was to divulge your theatrical journey in assessing your emotions, you’re too exhausted to stay awake. It would have to wait for another day.

“You have the rest of the summer to find out, cowboy.”

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez jeong yunho #ateez yunho #ateez yunho x reader #ateez yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunhoszn

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starillusion13 · 2 years ago

Text

Winning Dessert

Pairing: boxer! San x f! reader x manager! Wooyoung

Genre: Strangers to lovers, Mature, SMUT

W.C: 6.3k +

Warnings: sexual themes,explicit SMUT, nipple play, oral (f receiving) , m x f x m, threesome, double penetration,unprotected sex(please don’t do irl),aftercare (please idk if anything more needed to add or not.)

Request from: @kitten4sannie

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Thanks for helping me out to come up with an idea with woosan fic @mymoodwriting

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @vvshere @yeoobin @anyamaris (I thought you may like it) @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames

Note: Thanks for joining the event and loving my works. I love interaction so please do tell me how you all like my works.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT UNDER THIS POST 18+

*under the cut*

🏆

Boxing Clubs? Are you really interested in them? No, not really. Your opinions don’t matter to your friend who is really jumping around like a fool in your bedroom for finally getting the tickets for herself and you to watch the tomorrow’s event of the Django Boxing Club. You have heard about the boxers in your town but never got the interest to dive deeper into the information about them. Your friend has mentioned her favourite’s name a lot in your conversations but you only pretended listening her.

“When are we going there?” You asked her in a bored tone contrast to her over-excited self. She stopped jumping and sits beside you, resting her palms on your shoulder and turning you to face her with excitement overflowing her eyes.

“Finally, I am going to their special show and even with you. I would probably faint there when seeing them that close but you will catch me okay! We will hang out to nearby café before and then we will go the event’s place. It will start at 9 o’clock.”

“No way! We will be out there late at night.” You didn’t expect to be a night event, you never been to any place at late night so you are a bit conscious right now.

“It’s okay Y/N. Many audiences will be there and it would be pretty much crowded to become somebody’s target for bad intentions.”

“I don’t know how to not worry but please we have to come back as soon as possible after the show ends.”

“Deal. Anyways I’m heading out for my home because I need to get a proper sleep today’s night even though I know I can’t sleep knowing I will be meeting Sa-“

Suddenly a ring interrupts her statement. The call was from her boyfriend asking her when will she get back home. She hurriedly makes her way out of your apartment waving you a quick farewell for the end of the day and you smiled in return to see her so excited for every little thing in her life. Maybe, you should also date someone then it would make yourself a little bit more interested in life.

Preparing yourself to the bed, you are still lost in thoughts about tomorrow’s event as to what can happen there. Not that you are expecting something worse but as you never been to such places and also late at night, you are a bit confused and overthinking.

————

Next day, early in the morning, your sleep got disturbed by a call from your friend to remind you about the events for the later in the day. You spent your Saturday morning as usual with treating yourself a nice healthy breakfast and cleaning stuffs all around your apartment.

Afternoon comes with the arrival of the exciting-self of your friend. Looking at her, you realized how she always dolls her up for every little occasion and being excited for her favorite stuffs. Where on the other end, you are always so bored with your usual plain life and dress up in casuals with no make up and all. Shaking your head to let this thought out of your mind, you picked up an outfit of a baggy pants and an oversized t-shirt.

“Are you wearing that?” your friend made a disgusted expression on your choice.

“Yes. Why? Is there something wrong with this?”

“Of course. Everything.” She moved you aside and starts to rummage through your closet and chose a light pink shirt with a white sketchy skirt. The skirt has a descent height to cover your thighs properly but to you the outfit is a bit too scandalous for the event.

“I’m not wearing that to a place where there will be lot of boys and men.”

“Its not like I’m asking you to wear revealing clothes to attract boys but atleast wear something girly please and perhaps this will look good on you maybe you will get a boyfriend for yourself there.”

Trying out the outfit, it reveals not that bad to wear to such events and eventually you agreed on it with her. You leave your wavy mid-length hair open and put some lip tint to go with the casual look.

Feeling of refreshment hits your body while walking along the side of the streets with your bestfriend. Maybe you should go out often to such exciting events or you will die of boredom in your room someday.

————

You spent your evening quite nicely with your friend in the café and later hanging out in the nearby mall. It was a thirty minutes way to the club from the mall so you left at 8:00 pm. Due to traffic, you both reached the place at 8:45 and on arriving, you could see how these events actually look like. The place is not bright enough to read the posters in the alley to know the information written on them. The club is situated at the end of the alley and while making your way towards it, you can feel people spread in the alley are eyeing you both up and down which making you a bit uncomfortable but your friend reassures you repeatedly not to mind them because they always look at others in that way. Reaching near the club, you could feel a lot more girls are there which made your anxious self a bit calm. The girls were either in groups of two or many but all were immersed in some exciting topics and with posters in their hands.

“Take this. This is a cheering board. I have only two hands so I can’t hold this and I will be holding these two photo sticks.” She shows her two sticks with one having a picture of an attractive male and other one with a name written on it, ‘Choi San’.

“Is this your favorite boxer?” Taking the cheering board from her hand on which is written,

‘I am cheering for you so do your best Choi San.’

You chuckled on her hardworks on making all these for the event. To your question, she nods her head aggressively with a big smile on her face. You both look towards the entrance finding out that the people have start entering the club because it’s already the time for the start of the event. Not realizing what to do, your friend dragged you hastily inside to get a better place for the best view to the show. Fortunate enough, you both got the front row from where you can see the ring of the wrestling show from an eight feet distance and the bright lights above it is making the surrounding view of the ring clear as well.

“Y/N! I swear if you don’t fall in love with the wrestling shows today. Just have a look on San’s match.”

Nodding your head reluctantly, your gaze focused on the various displayed posters around the ring of San. In every picture, his intimidating sharp eyes with a slick jaw is making you attracted towards him. His black hair complimenting his look even more and now you are hoping to see this individual in person soon. You look to your side to find your friend busy texting her boyfriend and so you start to look around to get in the surroundings more.

The place is only brightly lit in the center where the stage ring is situated so that every audience can have the clear view of the show. To the end of the ring on your right, a table where two judges were sitting and discussing something between them. Behind them, a man was standing who caught you staring there and then he smirked at you while checking you out all over. You shifted in your place and he shook his head and turned back to enter a door. Creep!

To your back, some were either sitting or standing but everyone has an excitement in them with energetic self for the show. You were looking at each person to recognize whether you know anyone or not when suddenly an announcement brought back your attention towards the center.

“Hello, everyone. Welcome to Django Club’s Night Show. This is the most anticipated show for you all and us as we know our boxer Choi San of our district will be competing against the State’s most renowned boxer Johnny. Let’s begin the show and cheer for them.” Everyone cheered on the end of the announcement and not to think otherwise but suddenly you were also excited for the show.

The cheering went wild when San entered the ring, one hand holds the middle ring rope tightly to make a swift entry from beneath it. His other hand is adjusting his white sando on his sweaty body. His muscles are well reflected for the sweats under the bright lights, looking like a fresh exotic meal served in a 5-star restaurant. Oh gosh! What the hell are you imagining now.

The stage is made of wood plank so his sudden steps made a thud sound and your friend is grinning for the excitement to see him so near. There are four steal beams in the corners of the ring stage covered with foam padding and a canvas mat is covering the wooden plank with a fabric skirt on the elevated sides to cover and prevent the spectators from seeing underneath. He made his way towards the bean on your left to lean his back on it when his opponent entered the ring from the other side in a similar way and the cheering from his end was also quite loud. The man whom you saw before behind the judges appeared again but he is having some deep conversation with San. He is whispering into San’s ears and you were squinting your eyes to know what is going on.

Oh girl! The moment that mysterious man turned around and all he found out is you being interested in his private life. He smiled at you and you got startled on this sudden interaction. He tapped on San’s shoulder and again whispered something but now they both looked at your direction and both of them having dirty smirks on their face, while San is smirking with a dark expression and the other one with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Your wide eyes quickly look over your friend, who turned towards you the same moment.

“Have you seen them looking in our way?”

“Yeah, I have but who is that man standing behind him?”

“That’s his manager, Jung Wooyoung like I have heard they are best friends more like brothers but whatever decision one has to make, they always consult with each other before hand. The manager is quite popular among girls because of his flirty nature but as far as I have heard that they both are single so you can have a chance.”

“Shut up! What the hell are you even talking about? Me and them? Never is this happening in this lifetime.” You hit her arm and both focused on the match which has started with San punching Johnny directly to the jaw and making the man stumbled to the floor. Everyone cheered on the act and your friend literally stood up and started jumping. She made you hold up the board a bit higher and then she is waving her sticks to cheer. The match was going quite well for San’s end because he was on the winning edge and now it’s the time for the last round. San is leaning to the beam same as before and Wooyoung came up to him with a bottle to give him some drink. They were talking between themselves when suddenly they abruptly turned their heads towards you. You thought at first that they were looking at someone else but you could see his lips were moving as if he is reading out something.

“Y/N he is reading the cheering board you are holding and see everyone is staring at us.”

Okay! So, all this time, you thought they were having those little interactions with you but it was only them looking at the audience cheering boards and posters. Maybe you are really overthinking. But why are you feeling a bit disappointed on knowing this!

The last round started with a loud whistle followed by the cheering sounds from the dimly lit place from every corner of the club. At this point, the atmosphere is little bit a mixture of smoke and alcohols and even you can hear people betting money on the contestants in a small corner of the club. Suddenly, San made an eye contact with you and you were doing your best to not think it that way and can see his opponent approaching him when he suddenly got a hit on his face and falls to the ground. He closed his eyes on the impact and resting his body on the knees and on two palms to take deep breathes. Panic starts rising your mind as if you are feeling guilty of the cause. You were looking all around to see whether any eyes are accusing you or not but all you could find is eyes focused on the stage and a wave of disappointment washed over the audience.

“What the hell! Where was he looking at?” You look over your shocked face.

“Maybe something distracted him.”

“But what?”

Me? Oh no! it can’t be even possible. This is your first time coming to this sort of shows and probably they have seen lot more beautiful girls in their life. Your eyes travelled back to the stage where san is now wiping the drop of blood from the corner of his mouth and also you can see a cut on his forehead which might be causing pain to him. You failed to notice all this time after the hit, Wooyoung’s gaze was all focused on you and following your every action. San glance at your direction and punched his opponent in such a way that the man couldn’t hit back and didn’t have anymore energy left. San’s white sando is fully drenched with sweat and his squinted sharp eyes are focused on the man before him when he pressed his elbows one on the neck and the other on the lower back to restrain him from getting up and with the time up, San is declared to be the champion of the show.

The digital board above the ring displays

‘ Choi San The Winner 🏆’

You smiled on the result and as expected your friend is shouting his name on top of her lungs. You calmed her down and looked to your phone to see it’s almost 11 at night and urged your friend to head home. San is staring at you while receiving the prize and you hesitated to look that way. You friend is still not willing to go back home but people emptying the place indicates you should head back soon before any worst thing happens.

————

When you both were about to walk out of the exist, a voice made you stop.

“Hey you girls!” a high-pitched voice calling out in your direction so on turning your head, you found out the manager is on the stairs beside the front row and looking in your way. Your friend smiled towards the man and he winked at her. He comes near to your presence.

“Hello girls! Myself Wooyoung, you can call me Woo in short. I have something to ask and that’s why I made out some time to speak with you.” All this time he is speaking, his gaze was focused on you.

Your friend happily introduced herself and you as well in which he extends his hand for a shake and before you can give in your hand, your friend shakes his hand aggressively. You and him chuckled on her excitement but he suddenly spoke up.

“Well! Can you stay a bit longer? I have something to ask.” You and your friend looked at each other in confusion as to what this man has to talk about.

“Us?”

“No. Only you.” He is directly staring in your eyes.

“We can’t stay here further because its too late for us to stay outside and even in this place.”

“Hey Wooyoung!” A familiar voice calls out from behind you all and you all turned towards it to find out your friend’s boyfriend Yeosang is standing at the doorway. Your friend run towards him and hugged him tightly and then they both quickly exchanged greeting kisses. They walked to where you and Wooyoung is standing.

“Yeosang? Do you know them and is she your girlfriend?”

“Ah yes! I never introduced her to you because I knew how crazy fan she is of San. She would probably leave me for him.” They both laughed and your friend hit him and yeosang turns towards you to give you a smile. “And she is her bestfriend. Her name is Y/N.”

“Oh cool! I was going to ask her to come help me with something and now when we all know each other then it would be much easy.”

“Help?” You watched how Yeosang and Wooyoung exchanged glances as if they were silently communicating between them. Wooyoung’s expression become dark and Yeosang laughed lightly, “Well we are leaving as am taking her to my house for tonight and I suppose you can help him. Trust me you are safe with him because he is my bestfriend and also knows how to fight well.”

“Y/N I trust yeosang so if he is assuring you on this matter then please trust him for me.”

Your thoughts are debating on whether to trust them or not but deep down you want to escape the boredom of your life and experience something thrilling so you accepted the offer. Your friend and her boyfriend took a leave and you know well what is their plan for the night so you just chuckled and turn towards Wooyoung with raised eyebrows to know why you are here exactly.

His gaze is on your legs and you just brushed your skirt to show your uneasiness for his act. He quickly looked up and grinned, “You are really pretty but you should not have worn this dress which is apparently looking too good on you and getting the attention it needs.”

“Thanks but I don’t usually go out and that’s why I thought to wear this maybe don’t know when again I would get the chance to wear it again.”

“Never.” Wooyoung whispered but when he saw your confused look, he quickly spills out the reasons to keep you here.

“Well Y/N, you did notice how San got the punch there and do you know why did that happen?”

You shook your head when suddenly he came forward and slide his hand around your neck to pull you closer, “Umm Wooyoung….”

“Yes?”

“Why did it happen?”

“Because of you. Your pretty face was distracting my boy and it leads to him getting a punch.”

“Me? But I-“

“You are not sorry for that?” you shyly look down but his other hand grips your chin to face him.

“Are you not sorry for that?” You nodded and he smiled when his gaze moves down from your eyes to your pink lips.

“You need to repay for that you know so come with me to our van and clean up his wound. I hope you won’t deny this.”

“I am sorry but I need to go home.”

“I will take you back home only when you help my boy to clean his wound and pain.”

Your eyes taking in his look, he has a sharp facial feature with veiny neck which is revealed due to his black and white Versace-Greca printed shirt which has three buttons open from the top revealing his chest teasingly with a black baggy pant. You quietly agreed with him and he took you to the backside of the club to a darker alley where on one side a van was parked. Every step nearing the van is making your heart beat faster and also being so close with wooyoung is not helping the situation.

————

Coming to the side of the van, he moved away from you and entered the front passenger seat. You are following his movements to contemplate the situation accordingly. You can only see him turning back inside and removing a curtain separating the back portion of the van which is almost like a travelling mini room with a quite enough space for two persons to sleep and also rest of the space to hang clothes and keeping all necessary place. These were not visible properly so out of curiosity you were leaning a bit forward to see what was inside and suddenly you meet San’s eyes, he smirks.

Wooyoung came out and holds your hand to take you to the back of the van. He opened the door and signalled by his head to you to enter it. The yellow hue light coming from inside the van is the only bright light in that alley right now and then when you looked inside, you can see everything clearly what you were imagining from outside and out of all things, the most eye catchy to you now is that San is sitting leaning his back to the driver’s seat staring at you.

“Hi sweetheart.” The way he said the nickname to you is so seductive and the deep voice is making the nickname a sweet venom from his mouth.

“Ummm Hi….” You entered the van and quickly sit on the seat which is taking the half side of the van to whose other San is sitting. The seat is in a somewhat shape of a sofa which can fit almost two people to sleep. Next in the way, Wooyoung entered the van and shut the door.

“Help me.” He is not asking you, this way he is totally commanding you so you quickly asked them for the necessary medicines and cotton and water and lastly the bandages. His black loose leathery pants are matching with the way his sweaty muscles and neck are shining under the yellow light seems like a smooth buttery material is wrapped around his skin.

Wooyoung provide you with all the things you asked for and you scooted near san to start clean his wounds but his hands pull you close and made you sit on his lap while his one leg is folded to make you sit on it and the other one is spread in front and near the feet, Wooyoung is sitting eyes bored in his phone.

“You need to come closer to take a proper look at the wound.” You want to scream for this close proximity but keeping your mouth and mind shut, you just nodded on his words.

You are so immersed in cleaning his wound, you didn’t notice a small smile on his lips and the way his hands moving upward to caress your back. The sudden touch made you shift in your place and when you look at his eyes, they are still closed. You brushed off the feeling and continue doing your work when his one hand grabs your neck tightly but not much to make you uncomfortable and the other hand holds your hand which was resting on his shoulder. You stopped what you were doing.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“I a-am do-doing it.” You know he is up with something but a tingling sensation inside you is making you excited and let him to do whatever he wants.

“What happened? Is there something making you uncomfortable?”

“……no.”

“Then continue.” You resume your actions but this time his hand holding your other wrist leaves it and put it on your knees and sliding them upward in the way folding your skirt slowly revealing your thighs and the grip on your neck tightens. This cause you to scratch the wound a bit.

“Ah!” your and wooyoung’s worried eyes looked his way. Wooyoung asked him when taking his and yours position precisely, “What hurt you again?”

“Nothing Woo, just someone is being a bad girl here.”

“I’m sorry but……” But? What will you say? That your damn hand is distracting me and now you have to repay me for distracting me from my one-night healer job? You remained quiet.

“But?” Woo asked you from behind so you turned your head to see him smirking.

“I think she is not willing to help me with this so maybe she can help me with something else.”

“Huh?” You didn’t get what San is referring to when he suddenly make you sit facing Woo and leaning your back to his chest. You tried to sit up but he grabs your throat lightly and pressed your torso down.

“Woo why don’t we celebrate the night in our own way?”

“I’m liking the celebration already.”

“Celebration?”

San whispered in your ears, “You are going to help me in this celebration or you are not getting home tonight. I know your body is also aching with the excitement for this.”

Wooyoung scoots near to your figure and he unbuttons your shirt revealing you in a white bra underneath it. His hungry eyes scans all over the exposed part and in action your hands moved to hide them but got held back by San.

“No need to hide this prettiness from us.” Your eyes following how wooyoung shifted your skirt a bit upward to reveal the dark wet patch on your panty.

“San she is already so wet for us.”

“Mhm….She is equally excited for us to devour her as she is our main dessert for the celebration for my win.” His hands slide down your shirt from the shoulders to prepper your neck and shoulder with wet kisses and biting on some places. You whimpered when he bit you near the ear and then he got to know that is your sweet spot so he repeatedly bit you in that region. Meanwhile, Wooyoung slide down your panties slowly and removing your shoes in the way. He placed himself between your legs and him sitting on his knees holding your knees apart to view your folds.

“San I want to taste her first. I want to taste whether the dessert is as delicious I have expected or more than that.” San chuckled on Woo’s dedication and paused on his way of devouring you. He grabs your chin and made you look at him, “Woo please eat her out and I want to see how long she can keep her little mouth shut from us.” Then San kissed you, a dominating kiss and when he said you are their dessert, he really meant it because the way he is sucking your lips and then he bit you to open your mouth and obediently your mouth opened to which his tongue exploring the inner mouth all over. Wooyoung’s tight grip on your inner thigh and his hot breath fanning over your folds made you alert of his presence between your legs and your exposed parts.

“Mhmmmm” this is what you could manage to say between the kiss when your aching heat comes in contact with wooyoung’s hot breathe.

Suddenly, Woo takes a long strip from the lower regio to the upper fold and this made your body arche but held back in place by San. San detach his lips from you to look at Woo and you also followed his gaze to see him looking upward with lust in eyes and your leaking arousal on his lips.

“She really tastes like the most delicious dessert than I ever had.”

“She tasted exactly the same up here as well.” San replied to agree with Woo.

San pushed your head on his shoulder when his one hand grabs your throat and the other one on your thigh. His mouth attached with the side of your throat to suck on them. Woo is sucking your folds as if that is his favorite dessert he got after years and this is the last time he has his hands onto. The overwhelming sensation is causing to building up a knot in your stomach and you close your eyes tightly to keep yourself enough with the feel of taking you to the edge.

“San….Woo….”You breathily moaned and then San spoke up. You gripped Woo’s hair tightly making him grunt in pain and pushing his face more inward while the other hand is gripping SAN’s thigh, almost your nails digging in.

“You are not going to cum unless we are satisfied enough to let it loose.”

You shook your head as it was already too much for you to control and now his commanding voice is making it impossible to hold it in. To your disapproval san’s hand travelled down to your clit and starts rubbing circle adding to the already stimulated region.

“SAN!......please no….please….I want to….”

“Should we stop?” Your ears are taking in the wet sounds of woo sucking your folds and San’s wet kisses on your throat but his words warned you.

“NO.”

“Then take what we are giving or else we are leaving you here.” You are totally whimpering under the touches and sucking of two males. Woo’s grip on your thigh is making a read handprint and while san’s other hand is messaging your covered tits and one is rubbing circles. Woo’s tongue entered your wet folds and San inserted one finger into the hole making a sloppy sound. Thrusting of tongue and finger is too much for you and keeping you on edge for so long is making you overstimulated with the sensation.

“Cum.” San’s whisper sends an electric wave to your body and you let it loose.

“Woo!…..I- I-…. San.” You are heavily breathing and you didn’t notice that San has removed your cloth covering your tits and woo removed the skirt from your waist. Woo tiredly comes up to take one of your breasts into his mouth and messaging the other one.

San again welcomed you to a more rough and needy kiss this time. During the kiss, San removed his sando and woo got up to free himself from every clothing from his body. You look towards Woo and then you see how well built his body is. Probably he also goes to practices with San. Woo smirked when he caught you staring at him.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Do you need one?” Why is this man suddenly interested in my private life? I mean I know I am having nothing to hide here at this point but still.

“ I don’t know.”

“ But we know.” San suddenly interjects between you and Wooyoung.

“What?”

“You don’t need boyfriend anymore when you got us.”

“Us?”

“Oh Y/N, our sweet dessert. The moment we saw you in that cute pink outfit, we were determined to make you our only dessert.” Woo made his way near both of you.

“Moreover you are my fan.” San spoke from behind when Woo took you from him to hold in his embrace and facing you both towards San. Your eyes following him how he throws away his pants and quickly get off his boxers revealing his hard length to you.

“I’m not your fan. I just came here to accompany my friend and that’s how you saw me holding that sign board.”

“That’s pity that you are not a fan of my boy but you are still my girl.”

“I’m not your girl.” San quickly made his way in front of you holding you tightly to enter your entrance. His length teasing you and Woo’s hard length poking in your lower back from behind making you anxious to feel them inside you.

“Look at me.” Your eyes quickly look up to meet San’s eyes.

“Have you done this before?”

“no.”

“We will keep that in mind but we won’t go easy on you .”

“We?”

“We both will enter you the same time and maybe then we will take turns if you can keep up.”

“ I don’t think-“ San entered you and his big length makes your eyes teary and san kissed away your tears and cooed you.

“Its okay sweetheart. I know you can take us. Trust us and everything will be fine."

You nodded your head on his words and he entered your entrance with ease again and his length widens your holes which cause your eyes to water even more. Your hands move upward to touch his abs and to feel him more close than already he is.

“SAN!”

His thrusts are sloppy and he is caressing your back and cooing in your ears to make you calm. He kissed away your teary eyes to make you feel the little comfort in that state. Woo entered you from behind and the pain for taking another length makes you to cry out.

“Woo..”

“It’s okay sweetheart. Take it. You can do it well.”

Woo added, “ I know you can do take me too.”

You made your concentration focused on the two lengths inside of you to make you at ease. You didn’t have sex with anyone before but you have taken off this sexual frustration off from you on your own. Relationship is a big deal for you as you overthink about every little thing in your life but tonight you let all of your thoughts to be aside and just go with the flow.

Their thrusts are sloppy and in sync with each other. They are praising you with their nicknames of their own, San is calling you his sweetheart and woo as his girl but the common name they have given you is ‘Dessert’. Why not because tonight you are their desert for the celebration for his win.

“San….Woo…”

You can feel a familiar knot is building up inside of you and their thrusts are increasing in pace. SAN’s thrusts are more aggressive and faster in pace while Woo’s thrusts are rhythmical and a bit gentle.

“You are so tight…agh…” woo growled and sucked on your neck.

“You feel so good wrapped around me. You are doing so well for us.” San praised you and pulled your hairs backward to rest your head on woo’s shoulder and then he leans forward to kiss your chest and gliding his mouth to one of your breast and sucking them hard and messaging the other in process. Woo’s one hand gripping your hip similarly like San to maintain his pace and the other one playing with the nipple of the one San is messaging. They repeated the same action with the other one in the same way.

You are a whimpering mess now and under all these touches with two males thrusting inside of you making you talk rubbish. Your are choking on your words because of the pain and also the pleasure you are feeling making your vision go white. Their pace increase and you are about to let it burst and you can feel by their words that they are also at their edge.

“SAN I’m about to cum. Woo please let me cum. Please San”

“Yes sweetheart. I know , just wait a bit more.”

“My girl. I will cum soon.” Woo thrusted deeply and after three thrusts he came. He rested his head on your shoulders and breathing heavily. SAN’s thrusts increase again and the sloppy sound in your entrance making you to let it go by any instant. Woo hold one of the breast and the other hand rubbing circle on your clit when he suddenly puts his lips on you.

“Woo….please…this is too much.”

“Cum.”

“San!”

You both cum together but he didn’t take it out of you rather sloppily thrusting inside you. The exhausted self of yours is very sensitive to this overstimulation but they didn’t stop their action until you all ride out your high.

“ my girl is the best and did so well.” Woo leaned to his back and let you rest against his body. San pulled himself out of you and pulls a cloth from nearby hanger and wiped your face. He threw that cloth away and take you on his lap and embraced your body as if protecting you from the whole universe.

“Sweetheart you did so well for me and for us. Thank you.”

“Hmmm…” San is rocking you on his lap. Woo sit beside him and caress his hand all over your body to make you feel at ease.

“My girl is so sleepy.” Woo caress your head lightly.

“SAN I need to go home.”

Woo asked you, “ Do you think you can walk?”

“It’s okay sweetheart. You sleep and we will drive you home later.”

“You don’t know my address.” Your eyes are hooded and can’t think of anything as your brain is still foggy brain.

“It’s okay I don’t need it when we can take you to our house as it’s also yours from today.”

Woo added, “ if we need your address then we can ask it from Yeosang.”

You nodded and clinged to San and your other hand hold woo closer to your body. San kissed you on your forehead and woo kissed you on the shoulder and pulls a cover over to cover three of you.

“Sleep my girl. We have so much to talk about tomorrow.”

“Sweetheart don’t worry about anything as you are now with us. We have to take care of you, our dessert who has melted with all the exhaustion and we are not letting you go now. Sleep.”

Maybe this is something you really needed in life. A life with these two about whom you didn’t know anything few hours ago but now they are the ones comforting you in their embrace and protecting you from the whole universe. Your life possibly can be better with them and maybe something more interesting the future holds for three of you.

You fell into slumber and them holding you close tightly in their embrace away from the whole world.

In the silence of the night, there is a sweet dessert kept warm. The happiness can only be ended on a good note with a dessert.

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This is my first time writing SMUT so please do tell me whether I should write further any smut fics or not.🥹

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#cultofdionysusnet #kvanity #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #poly ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez poly #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez san #ateez wooyoung

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anarchic-miscellany · 8 months ago

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Reading "One Piece" for the First Time: Part 12

So the Idiot has led his crew to an isle of dinosaurs, leading me to believe we are in the "guest chapter written by the author's nephew" arc. Still, bit early to be blowing your load on the dinosaur card, isn't it Oda? Well, anyway, our crew of morons befriend a pair of men the size of Dolph Lundgren in an honestly quite nice little tale of 2 eternal warriors duking it out for centuries. Kind of like the plot of the Rocky series, to be honest. The arrival of Candle Man and (honestly, I've already forgotten who the others are) to the scene to make a fight occur is forced and honestly a bit annoying to me: I just want to watch The Meme in Progress scavenge and befriend a minature Dolph Lundgren, he deserves it! I just wanted to watch The Cartographer with a Brain Cell chill out! But no, we have to fight some fucking melty boy and his waxy crew (I'm pretty sure they were our entrant at Eurovision in 1966) after setting off gunpowder in a giant's face. Can't we have nice things? Anyway, more shenanigans happen, and the fight is just sort of flowing right through me at this point. We get some shonen shit where our crew of evolutionary dead-ends are frozen in place with magic candle wax (wut) and a woman with a candelabra for hair threatens to set them aflame, and it takes The Idiot about 50 minutes to realise that wax melts, so maybe they should use fire? The Himbo goes Guy Fucking Fieri on this place by covering his swords and fuckboi hair in fire, which was alright I guess. I still don't know what the hell these "Baroque" (yeah you said it, man, these guys go out of their way to make everyone else look basic, yet still got upstaged by the swag on Django and Kuro. God I miss the Cat Man, he ruled) dudes even want: my guy, you have magic, why do you want a Dolph Lundgren? You just fucking one shot that guy? What was your plan, to hold the world's shittest cage fight auction? To be fair I was entertained watching them fight like Godzilla, so I'm on board with that plan. You'll print money.

Also where did the rodeo pirate stripper go? You can't just drop a rodeo stripper on me then fob me off with a fucking dinosaur island where Dolph Lundgren fights Lolph Dundgren. Alright, actually, you can, I'm down for that. But this entire fucking arc was absolutely worth it for that extended gag of the Giga Chad wandering off to find some lizard meat (weirdly not a euphamism) and missing the entire plot, and sit down for a fucking tea break like the absolute mad chad that he is, then RECEIVE the plot by mistake because the villain called up on a snail phone. Art.

#One Piece #Reading One Piece for the First Time #Giga Chad #Sanji #roronoa zoro #Himbo #Idiot #Cartographer with a Brain Cell #Meme in Progress #Usopp #Monkey D Luffy #Nami #Manga #Baroque Works #Mr 3 Galdino #Candle Man

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justforbooks · 6 months ago

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Martial Solal

French jazz pianist who loved to improvise and wrote the score for Jean-Luc Godard’s film A Bout de Souffle

A squint through the metal fence around Martial Solal’s tree-shrouded villa, in Chatou, the suburb of Paris known as the “ville des impressionistes”, could have confirmed that the great French pianist was not the average jazz musician. Solal, who has died aged 97, was the most famous jazz musician in France from the 1950s onwards, and widely known across Europe and the US.

The breakthrough that paid for that Chatou villa came when Solal – then a little-known club pianist – wrote the score for Jean-Luc Godard’s 1960 film A Bout de Souffle (Breathless). The commission came out of the blue via Godard’s jazz-loving friend and fellow director Jean-Pierre Melville, and Solal collected royalties on it for ever after. “It’s like I won the Lotto,” he said in 2010. “Because back in 1959 when I did it, I was mainly just known for being the house pianist in the Saint-Germain-des-Prés jazz club.” Godard had few ideas about the music he wanted, beyond joking to Solal that he might compose a piece for a banjo player, to save money. The pianist promptly produced a soundtrack for big band and 30 violins.

Solal went on to work on several more films, and was one of the first Europeans to perform at the Newport jazz festival in the US. Into his 80s, he could still walk the tightrope of unaccompanied improvised performance, and his compositions had a signature as personal and harmonically idiosyncratic as Thelonious Monk’s. Solal, who liked stop-start melodies and constant rhythmic changes, wrote elegant pieces that slowly coalesced out of scattered fragments. He loved peppering classic jazz material – even as sacrosanct as Duke Ellington’s – with disrespectful quotes going all the way back to his danceband days in Algiers, the city where he was born.

Solal’s mother, Sultana Abrami, an amateur opera singer, introduced him to classical piano as a child. During the second world war, under Nazi race laws, Martial was excluded from a secondary education because his father, Jacob Cohen-Solal, an accountant, was Jewish. He took jazz clarinet and piano lessons from a local bandleader, with whom he was soon performing tangos, waltzes and Benny Goodmanesque swing. Soon, Fats Waller, Erroll Garner, Art Tatum and the bebop virtuoso Bud Powell began to displace Chopin and Bach among Solal’s keyboard models.

He moved to Paris in 1950 after his military service, and teamed up with the American bebop drums pioneer Kenny Clarke in the house band at the Saint-Germain-des-Prés club. The young pianist’s nervous recording debut was in April 1953 with the jazz-guitar genius Django Reinhardt, who turned out to be playing on his last; Reinhardt died the following month. That year, Solal recorded Modern Sounds with his own trio and also recorded unaccompanied. After working with Sidney Bechet in 1957, he received the commission for the Breathless score.

The word about Solal then began to reach America – both Oscar Peterson and Ellington had been entranced by him in Paris, with Ellington pronouncing him a “soul brother”. In 1963, he played at Newport, with the bassist Teddy Kotick and the drummer Paul Motian; despite barely knowing his new partners, Solal boldly added his 11-minute tempo-shuffling Suite Pour Une Frise to the usual programme of standard songs.

Turning down an invitation to move to the US, Solal led world-class groups in the 1960s and 70s, often including the drummer Daniel Humair, the bassist Niels-Henning Orsted Pedersen, and even an advanced two-bass trio for piano and the double-bassists Gilbert Rovère and Jean-François Jenny-Clark. He also explored fruitful duo partnerships with the American saxophonists Lee Konitz and Phil Woods between the 70s and the 90s, and led innovative big bands, notably on the thrilling Martial Solal Big Band session (for the Gaumont label in 1981) and Plays Hodeir (1984).

An insatiable capacity for self-education helped Solal to develop a characteristically pungent harmonic language. He wrote and performed contemporary classical music and published jazz-piano pieces modelled on the Mikrokosmos educational cycles of Béla Bartók.

In 1989 the Martial Solal jazz piano competition was founded. Its winners have included the Frenchman Baptiste Trotignon and the charismatic Armenian virtuoso Tigran Hamasyan. In the 90s, Solal often worked with the Moutin twins, François and Louis, on bass and drums – both were flexible enough to follow their leader’s tendency to launch a tune without telling them what it was, change key without warning, or turn it into a different song entirely.

As he entered his 70s, Solal seemed to be playing with a revitalised and swashbuckling confidence – as if he was finally sure that he would still sound like himself whether he played within the regular rules, or broke them. In 1999, he won Denmark’s Jazzpar prize, and celebrated by writing parts for the accompanying Danish Radio Jazz Orchestra owing as much to the French impressionist classical composers as to jazz. In that decade, Solal also had an unprecedented 30-concert solo run on French national radio.

In 2000, with his 12-piece Dodecaband, he recorded Martial Solal Dodecaband Plays Ellington. During the following decade, he recorded two live albums at the Village Vanguard in New York; the brilliant unaccompanied session Solitude; the duet Rue de Seine, with the trumpeter Dave Douglas; and the Exposition Sans Tableau session for his woodwind-less, brass-packed Decaband – a typically quirky lineup featuring Solal’s talented daughter Claudia singing the roles of a missing sax section.

His final public performance was a solo concert in 2019, at the Salle Gaveau hall where he had made his Paris debut in 1961. After a masterly exposition later issued on the album Coming Yesterday, Solal’s typically elegant exit was prefaced by the words: “I don’t want to bore you. It’s better that you leave here serene.” Then he played “a nice chord like this” – a single F major – said “Voilà. Merci” and left the stage.

Solal undoubtedly loved improvisation, but he believed it needed the spur of challenging composition to stop improvisers from slipping into habits. Not everyone shared his enthusiasm for musical jokes and maybe Solal was unnecessarily diverted by whether or not jazz could satisfy what he saw as classical listeners’ expectations of “perfection”. But he was a jazz-lover to his nimble fingertips, nonetheless. Speculating that probably no more than 10% of his fellow countryfolk knew anything about jazz, Solal phelgmatically declared that “as long as we can live, and play the music we like, it’s too bad for the 90%. It’s their loss.”

Solal is survived by his wife, Anna, their son, Eric, and daughter, Claudia, two grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

🔔 Martial Saul Cohen-Solal, musician, born 23 August 1927; died 12 December 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #Martial Solal #in memoriam

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t00thpasteface · 2 months ago

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tag game i've seen on my dash and want to do so i'm doing it

(my friends tagged their fills of this as including "whoever wants to do this" so i'm taking the invitation!)

what’s the origin of your blog title?

i've been asked this a million times, but alas, the truth is that the origin of "toothpaste face" as a handle is largely apocryphal. i'm pretty sure it was a reference to that scene in pee wee's big adventure where he brushes his teeth and goes "GRR! MAD DOG!" during the breakfast machine bit, but my brother says it was because of a topical acne medication i was using a lot back when i first made my deviantart account (the first instance of the handle) that really did look like toothpaste. maybe it was both, or some other third thing?

all i know for sure is that it was originally going to be "snail face" but there was already a dA account with that!

my header is just a line from the song "b movie" by elvis costello!

otp(s) + shipname(s):

ohhhhh so many to pick... yall already know them. oldest one i can think of that i still indulge in would probably be kumadust (mother/earthbound) or ezioleo (assassin's creed).

of course hawkahy (mash) is the most recent addition to the pile... there's also hardenshipping (pokemon) and daforge (star trek) and marcien (elder scrolls) and speeding bullet (tf2)...

my only otp to ever be canon was daverezi (homestuck) but then it got retconned x_x;;

Favorite color:

tyrian purple!!!!

Song stuck in your head:

For Someone Special by the doobie brothers. beautiful song...

Weirdest habit/trait:

i keep earplugs in my pocket all the time and wear them pretty frequently. lots of places are just too damn loud!

Hobbies:

drawing and writing are the big ones... i play some acoustic guitar, but i'm not exactly django reinhardt. i also sew; i enjoy making doll clothes and stuffed animals, plus mending and customizing clothes i've thrifted. sometimes i also design and cut stuff with adhesive or heat-transfer vinyl to make my own stickers, decals, and tshirt designs. i've dabbled in a lot of other mediums too, like whittling, felting, ceramics, collage... i've even tried a little metalwork with an arc welder, but it's tough!!

as for non-artistic hobbies, cooking is the big one. i've done some archery, but i'm out of practice. i also enjoy fishing and hunting!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

i'd love to work at the houston museum of natural science full-time, i think. i've spent a lot of time volunteering there and i wish i could just live and breathe paleontology in a fun place like that. unfortunately, that requires either living in houston or commuting into houston, and i've had enough of that, to be honest.

i'd also love to work at an antarctic research station!

Something you’re good at:

besides art... i'm a pretty good shot, actually, both with a revolver and with a bolt-action rifle.

Something you hate:

ugh, i can't stand it when people repeatedly clear their throat or snort/sniffle loudly in a quiet room. please deal with the post nasal drip in silence... or just take a decongestant!!

Something you collect:

dead stuff! bones, fur, taxidermy, wet specimens, teeth, seashells, dead bugs, you name it. i've got a really eclectic little collection going! most of it is stuff i've found myself on walks or in my yard, but i've bought a few of the additions and received several as gifts, too. what i'd really like to add to it is a diaphonized bird...

Something you forget:

birthdays! i'm so bad with birthdays. i only remember them if they coincide with some other event, like my brother being born on tax day. i usually only remember the month and that's it!

What’s your love language?

quality time. i love just doing stuff with people, even grocery shopping or having a microwaved meal ^_^

Favorite movie/show:

movie: the Blues Brothers. show: Spongebob, but specifically seasons 1-3, plus the first movie.

Favorite food:

fettuccine alfredo with as much seafood as i can get on it: shrimp, crab, crawfish, scallops, lobster, whatever!

Favorite animal:

Felis catus, Architeuthis dux, Ictalurus furcatus, and Velociraptor mongoliensis!

What were you like as a child:

when i was a really little kid, i had a really bad habit of randomly darting off to chase pigeons!

but in school i was a class clown, very loud, very sociable. i was always doodling in class and at lunch, and i would fill up stacks and stacks of paper just drawing whatever my friends told me to draw.

generally, i was always looking for the next excuse to get up in front of people and make them laugh! :)

Favorite subject at school:

it's tough to say because the teachers/professors can really make or break a class regardless of my opinion on the subject matter. my favorite teachers growing up were usually art or english teachers that understood how my brain worked, but i also have fond memories of a biology teacher who kept two pet rats in the classroom.

i took a wonderful creative writing course in the senior year of my first degree that really challenged me, and that same semester, i also had a blast in my shakespeare class thanks to a hilarious professor who really made everything come alive.

this time around, i think i had the most fun learning things in that class i took on vertebrate evolution, but the breakneck pace of the curriculum was brutal; i wish i could have taken it slower and savored the material.

Least favorite subject:

anything math! i understand it, it's useful, it's good brain exercise, yadda yadda yadda... but it's just so BORING. the application of the math is very interesting; the math itself, not so much.

What’s your best character trait?

i try to always stay optimistic, and to find little reasons to be happy wherever i am. i try very hard not to doomspiral.

What’s your worst character trait?

complete and total time blindness. i'm never early for anything. i'm always 2 minutes late to work, practically on the dot. but i try to make up for it through lingering and loitering!

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

no student loan debt... -_-

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

i've always wanted to meet vincent van gogh. above all else, i love his art and i would love to pick his brain about his process. i wish i could just sit together with him on the patio of a cafe somewhere and make gesture sketches of random passersby. i'd also love to meet leonardo da vinci— now there's a guy who won't get snippy when you go off-topic! honestly, i wish i could play a couple rounds of exquisite corpse with both of them together.

☆*: .｡. o( ´ ▽ ` )o .｡.:*☆

tagging anyone who wants to do this since i'm doing it for the same reason :3

#shebbz shoutz #tag game

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wandafiction · 1 year ago

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Declarations - Just Us Chapter 59

Warnings 18+: Shower Sex, Oral (Wanda Receiving), Praise, Teasing, Squirting, Aftercare

Word Count: 4244

Series List | Chapter 58 | Chapter 60

================================

So here I am sitting on Wanda's couch with my head in my hands, as Wanda prepares our food since I ruined the dinner plans. I think she is getting the pizza out of the freezer, which is definitely not some posh pasta dish but it's still good. Vision was in the wrong, I had a right to say what I said and walk out didn't I? I think I did the right thing. I mean I also did make a scene and I promised myself I wouldn't. God why did he have to say what he did, why couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut. Why couldn't I keep mine shut? I'm a fucking idiot he isn't going to want me around the twins, let alone take them to fucking Canada. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"Y/n." I jump slightly when I feel Wanda’s hand on my back not hearing her make her way over, her voice is soft doing her best in keeping me calm. No doubt she is angry with me or something. I feel Wanda's hand move off of my back, finding a new home on my knee and her other hand comes to rest on my other knee as well. I lift my face out of my hands to look up at Wanda as she bends down to match my height, her attentive eyes on me make my bottom lip quiver and my eyes gloss over.

"I'm sorry Wanda." I bury my face back into my hands as a sob takes over me. "I...I am so, so sorry. I didn't want any of that to happen tonight. I. He. I ruined everything."

"Baby you did absolutely nothing wrong. Vision needs to be the one apologising." Wanda's thumbs rub at my knees, as I lift my head up once again, wiping my eyes with my hands. "You did nothing wrong. You stood up for yourself, and Zak and others. You did good."

"Okay." She gives me a half smile knowing I don't quite believe her but doesn't force her words on me anymore.

"Okay. Well why don't you get changed, the pizzas will be cooking by the time you're back."

"I love you Wanda." I watch as she melts at my words, her eyes full of love and adoration.

"I love you too Y/n." Wanda leans forward planting a chaste kiss on my lips before standing up. She holds her hands out for me to take and when I do she pulls me up till I'm standing in front of her, and her thumbs start circling over my knuckles.

"I really do love you Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n."

"And I really do love you Wanda Django Maximoff." She beams up at me pulling me into an almost feverish kiss. "It will be a late dinner if you continue."

"Yeah, Yeah go get changed." She swats my butt playfully as I start to walk away and I shoot her a small wink as I look back over my shoulder. "Hey! No, that's not funny. Don't think I forgot about the little restroom incident, leaving me high and dry like that."

"Well from my understanding you were most certainly not dry when I left you." I catch the couch cushion that comes right for my face and then duck the next one as Wanda grumbles to herself. "Aww is my baby girl in need of my attention. I thought last night would have made you want a break."

"I could never want a break from you." I watch carefully as Wanda bites her lips, her eyes moving up and down my body like she is seeing what is underneath my clothes.

Well she has seen it enough times to have it memorised. But I catch her sneaky little hand going for another couch cushion so it doesn't surprise me when one comes flying toward my head, again. This time I lean to the left, catching it with my right hand before letting it drop to the floor and I smile when I see Wanda's jaw open slightly.

"Okay not only are you teasing me, but I can't even get you back for it. Are you some sort of ninja with those relaxes?" Wanda huffs out a laugh as I gently toss all the cushions back onto the couch.

"No, just too quick I guess."

"Whatever you say. But if you don't hurry then there is going to be no pizza to eat and you will go hungry because I will have eaten it all. Shoo go get changed."

"You've not even put it in the oven yet and I would say I know a few other ways to fill me up." Wanda raises a quizzical eyebrow towards me. "Just have you for my breakfast, lunch and dinner."

I smirk as Wanda's face flushes red and she turns it away from me slightly trying to hide it, grumbling to herself about me teasing her. I saunter my way over to where she is standing, her head moving so her eyes can watch my movements, her bottom lip between her teeth. I turn to the side as I slowly brush past her, bringing my mouth down to her ear breathing hot air into. Her eyes flutter closed, a sigh leaving her lips and I use her distracted state to loop my fingers through the belt loop of her pants and start dragging her with me as I walk backwards towards the hallway. Once she realises we are on the move, her eyes open now just a small slither of color visible as she allows me to pull her to her room.

Wanda's hands make their way to my arms and she starts stroking them up and down, her lust filled eyes moving to our surroundings when I pull us into her ensuite. I remove one of my hands from her belt loops, leaning into the shower and turning it on so it can heat up. I loop my finger back through the belt loop and pull her body flush against mine, her head tilting back so she can see me. Her hands leave my arms, cupping my face as she pulls me into a passionate kiss. My hands immediately start fumbling with the buttons on her pants, unzipping them and pushing them down her legs. She wiggles them down and steps out of them, kicking them away from us so we don't trip.

I move my hand down to her clothed core and start rubbing at her clit with two fingers, her head falling against my chest as her hips try to push against my hand. I feel a wet spot growing in her underwear the more a rub circles, the sighs leaving Wanda's mouth causing a shiver to go down my spine. I push her underwear to the side and run a finger through her folds earning me a small moan, Wanda's hands now holding the back of my neck for support. I run two fingers through her folds this time, dipping them in her entrance slightly before removing them and going back to circle her clit with soft touches to rile her up.

"Y/n please."

"Please what baby?"

"I need you." She husks out as her hips push against my fingers trying to get them where she needs them. Instead I pull them away and she groans against my chest at the loss of feeling. I use my other hand to tilt her head up to look back up at me, and I see her swallow harshly at the smirk I have on my face. I bring my fingers that are coated in her juices up in front of her face, pushing them towards her mouth.

"Suck." Wanda's lips immediately wrap around my two fingers and she moans at the taste of herself, her tongue swirling around them in a frantic Manner. I pull them out of her mouth, putting them in my mouth and smile at the taste that remains on them. "Be a good girl and strip for me."

Wanda let's out a small moan at the name, and starts pulling her clothes off slowly giving me a show. When she is only in her bra and underwear, she slowly drags her hands behind her back unclipping her bra and slides it down her arms allowing it to drop to the floor. I feel my mouth water at the sight of her perky breasts, her nipples already hard. Wanda's breathing starts to pick up, as I drink her in with my eyes moving closer to her as I remove my own clothes. I hook my thumb around the hem of her underwear and push it down her legs until they freely fall to the floor. I place my hand on her chest, gently pushing her into the shower under the water as I close the door behind me.

I put my hands on her waist pushing her back against the tiled wall of the shower, causing a gasp to leave her mouth. I connect our lips, my thumbs rubbing small circles on the thin skin on her hips, a moan leaving her mouth. I push my tongue into her mouth, with no fight from Wanda, and explore her mouth until air becomes a problem. I move my kisses down Wanda's neck, nipping and sucking at the skin as I move across it, sighs and moans living Wanda's mouth as I tease her more. Her hands wrap around my neck, grasping onto the hair back there as I bite down on her pulse point before soothing it with my tongue.

I move my lips down from her neck to her collar bone, my hands dancing up her stomach and when they reach her breasts I give them a squeeze. I smile at the moan that leaves Wanda's lips as I continue to massage her breasts. I take her hard nipple into my mouth, swiping my tongue over it, and her hand shoots to the top of my head subconsciously pushing it down. I fight it off as I move my mouth to her other nipple, taking it into my mouth as my tongue swirls around it. Wanda's back arches, a guttural moan leaving her lips as I graze my teeth over the hard nub.

"Baby please." I smile against her breast at her breathy pleads, deciding not to tease her anymore. I allow my tongue to lick a stripe down her abdomen feeling her muscles tense under it. I move to my knees, the warm water of the shower now hitting my back, as I move my mouth to her left hip. I suck at the skin, before taking it between my teeth and Wanda's grip on my hair tightens as I soothe it with my tongue and smile at the fresh purple mark I see. I pepper kisses across to her other hip, giving it the same treatment and her moans start to fill the shower my name passing through her lips.

"Y/n…" her voice is breathy and small as I move my kisses down to her thighs avoiding the place she needs me most. I rest my left cheek on her right thigh as I tilt my head to look at her.

"Princess?" Wanda's head tilts downwards, a silent plea on her face as she bites her lips when I drag my hands down her body to her butt. I squeeze it gently, her back arching off the wall once more as she tugs on my head a little a moan leaving my mouth at the pleasurable pain.

"No more teasing. I need you."

"What do you need?" I kiss up her thigh once more enjoying the pleasurable sighs that leave her lips. A small moan leaves her lips, her head pressing against the wall as I press them gently against her clit before moving them down her other thigh stopping at her knee once again. She moves her head back down to look at me, her chest rising up and down quickly, one hand in my hair the other against the wall. What a beautiful sight to see before me, Wanda coming undone at the smallest of touches.

"I need you. Your fingers, your tongue. Please just fuck me, use me, anything." Her hips buck when I move my hands through her folds, a loud moan leaving her lips. I move them back to push harsh tight circles against her clit, her head rests against the wall as her back arches off of it. She pulls on my hair again trying to get my mouth to where she wants it, but I smirk against her knee and slowly drag my tongue up her leg. I use my free hand to lift her left leg over my shoulder, running my hands through her folds once more. She groans and grumbles when I remove them, only to moan when I attach my mouth to her clit. Her hips grind against my face as I move my tongue through her slick and into her entrance. A guttural moan leaves her lips at the feeling of the muscle inside her.

I move my fingers, with her juices on them, up to her mouth pushing it past her lips. Her hips buck against my face as she hums against my fingers and starts to swirl her tongue around them. My other hand massages her thigh that's resting on my shoulder as my tongue alternates between giving her clit attention and diving into her entrance. She moans without a filter when my teeth graze over the swollen and sensitive bud, pulling my face impossibly closer as I allow her hips to ride my face however she wants.

"Y/n I'm going to cum...please." She moans when I push my tongue back into her entrance, and my hand that was on her thigh moves upwards so I can press my thumb against her clit.

"Cum for me baby girl." The vibrations of my words are enough to send Wanda into a blistering orgasm as her juices rush out and cover not only my face but my chest too, as her hips jutter against my face through the last of her high. She tugs on my hair pulling my face away, the continued use of my tongue on her core too much for her. I rest my chin on her hip bone as I watch her calm down, her hand staying in my hair as the other pushes the baby hairs off her forehead. I gently remove her leg from my shoulder and start to rub my hands up and down her thighs in a soothing manner.

I move from my knees to my feet, so I can give her a few pecks on the lips which she struggles to reciprocate as she calms down. Wanda buries her head into the crook of my neck, I hold her waist as her arms wrap around my neck, trying to regulate her breathing. After a few minutes she pulls away, her eyes scanning my face and my chest and I smirk at the bright red blush the spread quickly.

"Never knew you were a squirter." Wanda takes her lips between her teeth, her eyes flicking back to mine before she answers.

"Neither did I." I raise a surprised brow as she nods. "That was all you baby."

"Well I can't wait to get you to do it again, and again and again and again." Wanda pushes her lips against mine to shut me up as she giggles against them.

"I can't wait either." Wanda's hand pushes mine away as I start to move it closer to her core. "Not yet, I'm too sensitive."

"Okay princess." I peck her lips a few times before moving away from her and under the hot stream of water, to wash her juices off of me. When I see her legs slightly shake as she moves towards me, my arms reach out as my hands grasp her waist. "I got you."

"I don't think I'm going to be able to walk."

"That's okay. I will look after you. Let's get you washed, dried and changed into something comfy. Then I will cook the pizzas, and we can have a relaxed night on the couch."

"You're so good to me." Wanda stands on her tiptoes capturing my lips between hers. She gives the bottom lip attention nibbling at it gently before pulling away with it between her teeth and letting it go with a pop.

"Only the best for my princess."

"Your princess?" I hum in agreement. "I like it."

"And I love you."

"I love you too. Do you want me to do you baby?" I shake my head lightly stopping her hand from travelling down to my core.

"No, you're tired. And anyway tonight was all about you."

"Are you sure?"

"Im sure." I smile at the small relieved sigh that leaves her lips as she tiredly leans her forehead against my chest. She must be exhausted from our activities from last night and just now. My poor baby.

I quickly clean us both off, leaning to turn the shower off as I help Wanda step out and wrap her in a warm towel. Pulling her into the bedroom with me, I lay another towel down on the edge of the bed and gently push Wanda down to sit on the bed. I quickly get myself dried and changed before I grab her sleep clothes, placing them next to her and start to dry her off.

"Arms up princess." Wanda lazily lifts her arms up as I slot them through the holes in her t-shirt before pulling it over her head. I peck her lips a couple of times, which she tiredly reciprocates and then I move to dry her legs off. "Fuzzy socks or slippers?"

"Socks please." Wanda pouts cutely as she speaks with a child-like hint to her voice.

"Of course."

Wanda gives me her best smile as her eyes light up at the sight of her grey fuzzy socks. I pull her grey sweatpants up her legs first, pulling her arms around my neck so I can lift her up slightly and get them over her bum. I then put her socks on for her, making sure to tuck her sweatpants into them, giving her the extra comfort and warmth. As I am bent down I rest my hands on her knees and look up at her with my full attention on her beautiful face. My eyes search from her sharp jawline, to pronounced cheek bones which have light freckles scattered all over. She gives me her fuzzy smile, which causes small dimples to appear and her eyes shine brighter than I have seen them before as she looks down at me. When Wanda tilts her head in question, I lean up and peck her lips a few times that causes her to scrunch her nose and my heart skips a beat.

"I can't believe you're all mine." Wanda's brows scrunch together in confusion, and I lean up to kiss the space between them a few times until they relax.

"Well of course I'm yours. Who else's would I be?" I shake my head lightly, crossing my arms over her one another as they rest on her legs. Then move to rest my head on my forearms as I look up at her. Wanda's hand instantly makes its way down to my head and starts weaving through my hair, as the other one traces the edge of my features.

"I just mean, I don't know what I did to ever deserve someone like you. Someone so attentive, so patient and understanding. Someone who adores me just as much as I adore them. Someone who accepts my broken pieces for what they are and doesn't try to force them back together, but instead takes their time making sure even the smallest of chips is back in the right place. Someone who sees me for me and not my wealth or I guess you can say the Stark family name. You take care of me, you protect me, you sit with me when I'm in a panic and help me to move forward with my life even if I get stuck in the past. You could have run a long time ago, I wouldn't have blamed you. People have run before, but you didn't. You stayed, you cared and you loved me. You love me so much, and when you show me that love in any way shape or form my heart skips a beat and my love for you grows every day. When you love me the way you do, I can see my whole future with you. And I know, I know we have only known each other for just over a month but you have buried yourself so deep within me that I can't escape you. And I don't want to escape you, I don't want to ever let you be anyone else's but mine. I love you so fucking much Wanda, it's scary how much I do but that only tells me that what I feel for you is as real as the clothes on our back. I don't really know where I was going with this, I think it was maybe an I adore you, or a thank you for staying but it sort of turned into this whole big declaration of my love. But that's what you do to me. You drive me crazy in the best possible way."

"Are we married now?" I full on belly laugh at Wanda's reply, not expecting it at all but also she's right it did sound like my wedding vows. Wanda's hands cup my face and it's only now that I realise that she is crying so many happy tears.

"Not yet. But maybe I should get you a promise ring to signify my declaration."

"I wouldn't say no to that."

"Good to know." I go to say something else but Wanda pulls my face upwards into an emotional kiss as tears continue to fall from her eyes.

"My turn." Wanda rests her forehead against mine, as I press my lips together savouring the kiss, and her eyes look into my soul once more. I signal for her to continue and she takes in a shaky breath trying to calm herself down. She gives me an eskimo kiss as she lets out one more shaky breath before speaking.

"Y/n you are all those things and more. Not only do you care for me, you care for my boys as well, when I see you getting on with them, messing around with them, when you and Tommy are snuggled on the couch together. God even when the three of you are ganging up on me, my heart swells and grows with the amount of love it makes me feel. I feel so at peace but at the same time so full of adrenaline and joy when I am around you. Even just the simple act of holding hands is the best feeling in the world to me and you make sure that I never lose that touch when we are with one another. You also make sure that at least one part of us is always in contact with the other because you know how much I cherish and savour the touch. As you said yourself, touch is my love language, and jeez were you right. I can't get enough of it, of you. And before you lose your mind to the gutter I don't mean in just that way, it doesn't even have to be physical. The way you look at me, your eyes so full of love your way with words I melt at them and I feel so much love for you it hurts me. I'm scared too, I know it's cliché and probably over used but I've never truly felt this with anyone before. You are the person I want to wake up to every day, you are the person I want the boys to grow up around. You are the person who I love with my whole heart. You are my person Y/n. And I love all of you with all that I have."

I pull Wanda's face down smashing our lips together, not give a single fuck about how salty it is due to how many tears we have both shed. Our lips dance together for what feels like forever until I pull away first, needing to come up for air. We lean our foreheads against one another, both our hands on each other's faces as our thumbs rub gentle circles against one another's cheeks. A fuzzy smile grows on Wanda's face, her eyes flicking between mine and I can feel my own smile growing on my face at the sight and I can only assume mine shows as much love as Wanda's does as she brings out lips together in a slow but sensual kiss. When we pull away once again Wanda wraps her arms around my neck pulling my head against her chest, and I listen to the rapid beating of her heart. I wrap my arms around her torso holding her close, feeling my own heart pounding against my chest.

I'm all in from this point onwards.

================================

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #just us series

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scarlet--wiccan · 10 months ago

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What would your main influences for your own vision of a Scarlet Witch movie?

This. I obviously don't want Marvel Studios to make a Scarlet Witch movie with Olsen, and if the M C U is going to continue as it is now, then I hope that version of Wanda stays dead and we never see her again.

But if you're looking for an original or stand-alone Scarlet Witch plot, particularly if you want an updated version of her and Pietro's origins, I've been kicking around that story pitch for a few years and that's my go-to answer. For brevity's sake, I'll copy it below.

If by "influences" you mean cinematic or creative influences-- I'm not a film expert. I always want magic-centric superhero movies to have a distinct aesthetic, but I'm rarely satisfied by what they actually put out. I would probably look towards folk horror for a lot of the stuff set in and around Wundagore, but I'm a little nervous about marrying that genre with Romani subjects and perspectives. And I know this film is a bit dated in the way it talks about magic and spritituality, but I still love The Craft and I think it's the gold standard when it comes to making witchfact feel immersive and tangible-- and it does it without all the overwrought energy-beam effects we see in so many M C U titles.

Wanda and Pietro's childhood and adolescence would basically follow 616-canon-- raised by Django and Marya; separated from their family during a racist hate crime; and forced to live on the run for years due to their emerging powers and further discrimination.

They return to Mount Wundagore seeking answers about their powers and their birth mother. They are taken in by the Knights of Wundagore, who, as in Midnight Suns, are an ancient order tasked with safeguarding the mountain and its hidden magic. Little do they know, the Knights have been corrupted by the same villain-- be that Modred or the Evolutionary-- who killed their birth mother and experimented on them as babies.

Wanda is given pages from the Darkhold, which she believes are ancient magical texts that will help her master her abilities. In truth, of course, they are priming her to become Chthon's vessel. She performs spells from the Darkhold to bolster the Knight's powers. Pietro has joined the Knights, believing that they will help him protect his sister-- as in canon, Pietro protective to a fault, because he believes that people are always trying to take advantage of Wanda and her abilities. And he's not wrong!

Agatha Harkness infiltrates the Knights of Wundagore, disguised as an elderly healer. She is an ancient witch whose coven once worked alongside the true Knights to keep Chthon bound while studying the mountain's magic. She has known the Maximoff family for generations, and has been seeking out Natalya's children ever since receiving a premonition of the return of the Scarlet Witch.

Agatha doesn't have the power the stop Wanda now that she is under the Darkhold's influence, so she sends a warning to Doctor Strange that Chthon's return is eminent.

Strange gathers a team of heroes to prevent Chthon's return. This leads to a big fight wherein Wanda and Pietro are technically the "bad guys," which ends with Wanda fully succumbing to the Darkhold. She unleashes a devastating attack against the heroes and descends deep within the mountain.

Pietro find himself abandoned on the mountainside. Agatha reveals herself to him and explains the truth, not only about his family but also about the Modred/Evolutionary situation. Pietro joins the heroes, and Agatha urges him to seek out Django, who she has discovered living in a nearby Transian village.

Django's memories are distorted by trauma and a magical curse that was inflicted on him by the Knights to keep him away from Wanda. Upon reuniting Django with his son, Agatha is able to lift the curse, explaining that their family's legacy-- not their blood, but their love for each other and the gifts they have passed down through their generations-- is the true source of their magic.

Chthon emerges from the mountain, using Wanda as a vessel. There's another big fight, and the heroes are able to get Pietro and Django close enough to Wanda for them to exorcize and bind Chthon within a doll that Django had crafted as a gift for his pregnant sister, Natalya. Django tragically passes away after the battle, but the twins are able to properly mourn him and their mothers. Wanda witnesses the spirit of Natalya and awakens to her true power as the Scarlet Witch.

Wanda agrees to study under Agatha, Pietro joins the hero team, and they both both meet Victoria Montessi, who is going to help them track down the Darkhold pages that have now been scattered to the wind. VICKI + WANDA BESTFRIENDS REAL

#adaptation

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ninja-muse · 1 year ago

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I need to start walking past used bookstores instead of into them…

Anyway, June was an all right reading month. I read some really good books, and some kind of poor ones, which is fairly normal, but I also didn't read as much as usual. This is a combination of having a few slow reads (Steampunk, Navola) and writing up a storm, neither of which is a bad thing. I am so glad to have written as much as I have this month. The end of the latest WIP is in sight!

Navola, by the way, is really good and if I'd been organized enough to take a photo of the ARC before I unhauled it, it would have gotten a dedicated review here. Think Renaissance Italy, low magic, ruthless politics, a boy coming of age, an unwanted destiny he has no choice but to accept, the trapped soul of a dragon… It's complex and twisted and detailed and layered, the sort of book you have to pay attention to and which will surprise you anyway. Highly recommended if you like George R.R. Martin or Robin Hobb or grimdark that's less about blood and battles and more about everyone being flawed and kind of awful.

This was also a month of ebooks for me, accidentally. I had a few library holds come in (and delayed one until next month because time), and I received not one but two e-ARCs, the second of which I'm working on right now. I also had one of those moments mid-month where I had no idea what to read so went for something radically different—a thriller about a forensic artist, mostly because it had been on my TBR for a bit and was available on Libby the day I needed a book.

And I reread Drums Along the Congo! Which I last read over 25 years ago so it was basically a new book to me. There's a lot of stuff I either missed or forgot the first time, but I was a kid who was reading it for the living dinosaurs rather than an adult reading for the journey and historical moment. I can't imagine the details about Congo in the 1980s would've made much of an impression. If you're into travel writing, it's one I'd recommend.

The third book off my TBR, A Bouquet From France, is that pretty marbled cover. (I nabbed it off my dad's unhaul pile mostly for that.) More interesting than the poems are some of the 1920s-era translation choices and the fact that the book has actual handcut deckle edges, like you can see where the knife went in off-center to cut the signatures open. Also Victor Hugo is introduced as one of France's best poets, with no mention that he might have also written some major novels.

In terms of my book haul for the month: one out-of-print comic book my work got on sale; one memoir a coworker was unhauling; two travel books that the "I've adulted so now I get a treat" used bookstore had in stock. One is the sequel/follow-up to one I hauled last month, so it's nice to have both. The other is excerpted letters by an English diplomat's wife from Constantinople in the early 1700s.* I successfully delayed a trip to the other tempting used bookstore until next month, so stayed tuned for that.

*Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Awesome woman. Look her up.

And that's about it for this time around. I didn't do exciting cultural events or anything, just read and wrote a lot. How was your June?

Click through to see everything I read this month, in the rough order of how glad I was to have read them.

How to Become the Dark Lord and Die Trying - Django Wexler

Dani’s stuck in a time loop in a fantasy world. She’s supposed to be the Chosen One but that clearly not working. Time to switch sides for funsies…

8/10

🏳️‍🌈 protagonist (bi woman), protagonist of colour

borrowed from work

Navola - Paolo Bacigalupi

Davico has always been aware of Navola’s politics and his banking family’s role in them, but also knows he’s unsuited to inherit that power. Unfortunately, in a city that breathes intrigue bowing out isn’t exactly an option. Out in July.

8.5/10

warning: violence, graphic injury, pseudo-incest

reading copy

A Bouquet From France - Wilfred Thorley, translator

A collection of French poetry from the 1100s to the 1920s.

7/10

off my TBR shelves

Steampunk - Ann and Jeff Vandermeer, editors

A collection of steampunk stories, old and new.

7/10

warning: misogyny, racism, eugenicists

off my TBR shelves

Running Close to the Wind - Alexandra Rowland

Avra, rubbish spy, finds himself on his ex’s pirate ship in possession of a deadly trade secret. Unfortunately, selling it to the highest bidder means working with a very sexy monk, and all manner of shenanigans.

7.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 main character (multisexual), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (ungendered, achillean), major character with prosthetic eye, largely brown-skinned cast, 🏳️‍🌈 author

warning: frequent discussions of sex, cursing, animal death

library ebook

Every Time We Say Goodbye - Natalie Jenner

Vivien moves to Rome in the 1950s to work as a script doctor and possibly learn the true fate of her soldier fiancé.

6.5/10

Black American secondary characters, 🇨🇦

library ebook

The Face of Deception - Iris Johansen

Eve Duncan, world-class forensic artist, is drawn into a dangerous web when she takes a commission from a tech billionaire.

6.5/10

warning: animal death, murder

library ebook

The Black Bird of Chernobyl - Ann McMan

Lilah’s happily misanthropic life preparing bodies at her funeral home is upset when her father hires perky Sparkle for community outreach. Then Lilah goes viral… Out in July.

6.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 main character (lesbian), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (lesbian, sapphic), Black secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 author

warning: death, grief

digital reading copy/won

Reread:

Drums Along the Congo - Rory Nugent

A naturalist travels deep into the African jungle in search of a legendary living dinosaur—or tries to. A lovely portrait of a time and place.

7.5/10

predominantly (Black) African cast

warning: animal death, brief mentions of Congo’s colonial brutalities

off my TBR shelves

Currently reading

The Dishonest Miss Take - Faye Murphy

Desperate to clear her name after a murder she didn't commit, a superpowered former villain stumbles onto a mystery—and a curious assassin. Out in September.

🏳️‍🌈 protagonist (sapphic), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (sapphic)

digital reading copy/won

Music from the Earliest Notations to the Sixteenth Century - Richard Taruskin

A history of early written European music, in its social and political contexts. The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle

Victorian detective stories.

disabled POV character (limb injury), occasional Indian secondary characters

warning: racism, colonialism

Monthly total: 8 + 1 Yearly total: 59 Queer books: 3 Authors of colour: 0 Books by women: 3 Authors outside the binary: 1 Canadian authors: 1 Classics: 1 Off the TBR shelves: 3 Books hauled: 4 ARCs acquired: 3 ARCs unhauled: 2 DNFs: 0

January February March April May

#booklr #bookblr #adult booklr #reading wrap-ups #book recommendations #rec lists #read in 2024

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guitarhq · 9 days ago

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Danny Gatton: The Telecaster Titan Who Redefined Guitar Mastery

In the pantheon of guitar greats, few names evoke the sense of awe and mystique that Danny Gatton does.

Revered by fellow musicians and often dubbed "The World's Greatest Unknown Guitarist," Gatton was a virtuoso whose eclectic style, technical brilliance, and emotional depth left an indelible mark on the world of music—even if mainstream fame largely eluded him during his lifetime. His story is one of genius, frustration, and ultimately, tragedy, but also of enduring legacy and the boundless possibilities of the guitar as an instrument of expression.

Early Life: A Prodigy in the Making

Daniel Wood Gatton Jr. was born on September 4, 1945, in Washington, D.C., and raised in nearby Anacostia, Maryland. Music ran in his veins—his father was a rhythm guitarist in a local big band and his mother was a pianist. From a young age, Gatton was surrounded by jazz, swing, and country music, laying a fertile foundation for his future as a genre-bending guitarist.

He picked up the guitar at age nine and quickly demonstrated an uncanny aptitude for the instrument. Inspired by Chet Atkins, Les Paul, and jazz luminaries like Django Reinhardt and Charlie Christian, Gatton absorbed musical ideas from a wide array of styles. By the time he was a teenager, he was already playing professionally in local bands, impressing audiences with a maturity and technical command far beyond his years.

A Style All His Own: The Humbler

Danny Gatton’s style defied categorization. He seamlessly blended rockabilly, blues, country, jazz, and R&B—sometimes all within a single song. Often referred to as "redneck jazz," his approach married the twang of traditional country guitar with the harmonic complexity of bebop jazz and the raw energy of rock and roll. His weapon of choice was the Fender Telecaster, an instrument as versatile and unpretentious as Gatton himself.

He earned the nickname "The Humbler," a moniker that originated from his habit of showing up unannounced at clubs and jam sessions, delivering jaw-dropping performances that humbled even the most seasoned guitarists. Legend has it that even accomplished players would pack up their gear and leave the stage once Gatton started playing, knowing they were witnessing something beyond compare.

Gatton’s technical prowess was staggering. He was a master of hybrid picking (using both pick and fingers), volume and tone swells, behind-the-nut bends, and lightning-fast harmonics. Yet what truly set him apart was his musicality. Despite his speed and technical tricks, he always played with soul, never letting flash override feeling. His solos could dance with joy, cry with melancholy, or burn with intensity.

The Struggle for Recognition

Despite his undeniable talent, Gatton never achieved widespread commercial success. Part of this was due to his genre-defying style, which made it difficult for record labels to market him. Was he country? Jazz? Rock? Blues? In truth, he was all of them and none, and that ambiguity limited his mainstream appeal.

Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Gatton played in various bands, recorded with artists like Robert Gordon, and released independent albums that earned him a cult following. His 1987 album Unfinished Business is often cited as a masterpiece—a dynamic, wide-ranging collection that showcases his formidable skills across multiple genres. The album became a touchstone for guitarists and was praised by critics, but its impact was mostly confined to the musician's circle.

Eventually, Elektra Records took notice, signing Gatton in the early 1990s. His major-label debut, 88 Elmira Street (1991), was a polished, instrumental album that showcased his versatility and technical brilliance. Featuring covers of songs by The Simpsons and classic tunes like "In My Room" by the Beach Boys, the album was an eclectic mix that received critical acclaim. Still, it struggled to reach a wider audience.

Even as accolades trickled in—Guitar Player magazine honored him, and he began to appear in high-profile guitar clinics—Gatton remained largely under the radar of the mainstream. This disconnect between his prodigious talent and his lack of fame would haunt him.

A Guitarist’s Guitarist

Within the guitar community, however, Gatton was (and remains) a revered figure. Esteemed players like Eric Clapton, Joe Bonamassa, Vince Gill, and even jazz legends like Pat Metheny have sung his praises. He wasn’t just respected—he was idolized.

Gatton also had a generous spirit when it came to teaching. He produced a well-regarded instructional video titled Telemaster!, where he broke down his signature techniques. It wasn’t just a demonstration of skills; it was a glimpse into the mind of a genius who believed that knowledge should be shared, not hoarded.

Beyond videos, Gatton mentored younger players and was known for being approachable, albeit introverted. His humility and lack of ego endeared him to those lucky enough to know him or play alongside him.

Personal Struggles and Tragic End

While Gatton’s public persona was that of a shy, affable virtuoso, he struggled privately with depression and a profound sense of dissatisfaction. The gap between his talent and his level of recognition weighed heavily on him. He was also a perfectionist who was often critical of his own recordings, feeling they didn’t adequately capture what he could do live.

On October 4, 1994, just a month after his 49th birthday, Danny Gatton died by suicide at his Maryland home. The news stunned the music world. Those who knew him spoke of a kind, gentle man, and the loss was deeply felt among fans and fellow musicians alike. His death underscored the often-overlooked mental health struggles that can accompany creative brilliance.

Legacy: The Eternal Humbler

Though his time on Earth was tragically cut short, Danny Gatton’s influence continues to ripple through the world of guitar. His recordings, instructional materials, and live performances—many preserved on bootlegs and YouTube—serve as a masterclass in what it means to be both a technician and an artist.

Posthumously, his work has received more attention. Compilations like The Humbler (a live recording with Robert Gordon) and Portraits have introduced new listeners to his genius. Guitar magazines continue to publish transcriptions of his solos, and his name often appears on lists of the greatest guitarists of all time.

What makes Gatton’s legacy so enduring is not just his technique, but his approach to music. He was a fearless explorer, unbound by genre or convention. In a time when many musicians were pigeonholed into narrow stylistic lanes, Gatton tore down walls. He proved that country licks could sit comfortably next to jazz chords and that a rockabilly riff could be as sophisticated as a bebop line.

Genius Remembered

Danny Gatton was not a rock star in the conventional sense. He didn’t fill arenas or top charts. But to those who value the guitar as an expressive, limitless instrument, he is a legend. His story is a poignant reminder that greatness doesn’t always come with fame and that some of the most profound artistry can live just beneath the surface of public consciousness.

Gatton's music continues to inspire a new generation of guitarists who marvel at his recordings and strive to understand the intricacies of his playing. They see in him not just a master technician, but a musician who played from the heart.

In the end, Danny Gatton may not have achieved the commercial success he deserved, but he left behind something far more valuable: a body of work that speaks to the soul of musicians everywhere. His Telecaster may be silent, but the echoes of his genius still resonate, loud and clear.

#guitar #guitar player #les paul #gibson #blues guitar #fender guitars #fender stratocaster #nashville #shred #fender telecaster #guitars #rock #virtuoso #fender amps #jazz #musician #guitarist #album #electric guitar

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doyoulikethissong-poll · 1 year ago

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Fats Waller - Ain't Misbehavin' 1929

"Ain't Misbehavin'" is a 1929 song written by Fats Waller, Harry Brooks and Andy Razaf. Waller recorded the original version that year for Victor Records and also later re-recorded the song for the 1943 film Stormy Weather. In a 1941 interview with Eddie "Rochester" Anderson, Fats claimed the song was written while "lodging" in alimony prison, and that is why he was not "misbehaving".

There were six other recordings of the song released in 1929, including versions by Louis Armstrong, Ruth Etting, Gene Austin, and Leo Reisman and His Orchestra. It was also used in the off-Broadway musical Connie's Hot Chocolates.

It has been recorded by many other performers over the years, including Billie Holiday, Eartha Kitt, Ella Fitzgerald, Django Reinhardt, Miles Davis, Ray Charles, Nat King Cole, and Willie Nelson, to name a few.

The original 1929 recording of "Ain't Misbehavin'" by Fats Waller received the Grammy Hall of Fame Award in 1984, and it was one of fifty recordings selected for inclusion in the National Recording Registry by the Library of Congress in 2004.

"Ain't Misbehavin'" received a total of 79,6% yes votes!

youtube

#finished #high votes #high yes #1920s #fats waller #o2 #o2 sweep #lo3

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perezhilton · 9 days ago

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Life really is such a gift! I am so selfish! I want to keep receiving it in good health for a very long time!!! Jamie Foxx...

#Jamie Foxx

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oneictskills · 3 months ago

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katrinapavela · 2 years ago

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QTNA: 10 Questions I Would Like Kerry Washington’s Memoir, Thicker Than Water to Answer

Kerry Washington’s memoir, Thicker Than Water, will be available to the masses on the 26th of September, and I have questions that need answers. Well, I would like to have answers. I pre-ordered it in June when it was announced, and I’ll be receiving a second copy when I see her in Manchester in October (Kerry, you better not cancel this leg of the tour. I worry because we’re the only stop that still doesn’t have a confirmed special guest). Before a million reviewers start leaking and the full-court press is unleashed this week, I thought it would be fun to post some of my own questions about Ms. Washington that I hope are answered in Thicker. To be clear, I read the same excerpt on Oprah.com as the rest of y’all. And I won’t be reading any advanced reviews until mine own eyes have completed all 320 pages of Kerry’s words. I am really looking forward to reading it, and hope to recommend it to my Black women-only reading group.

As an actress, I have liked Kerry Washington since I watched Save the Last Dance in the early 2000s. And in each subsequent film I’ve watched that featured her, I’ve felt like Tony Goldwyn (but not as intense): Oh hey, it’s that really great actress and she’s always giving something different. But I never explicitly sought after articles or interviews, preferring to casually enjoy her work instead.

That changed with Scandal. My dedication to the show hedged on its compelling narrative themes. But it was the compelling relationship between Kerry’s Olivia Pope and Tony Goldwyn’s Fitzgerald Grant that created magic. It cast a spell that elicited from me reams of writing about Scandal between 2012-2018. In fact, the series changed the whole trajectory of Kerry Washington’s career (and my life, too ). It also brought significantly more eyes upon her. The first vehicle built around Kerry, Scandal gave her acting space to breathe, develop and shine. I also continued to watch the smattering of films she made during that era (Django Unchained, Peeples, Confirmation), and began reading interviews with her--both before and during Scandal. I began to notice the way in which the availability of information shifted, receded (or removed), and sometimes became opaque under a claim of ‘privacy’ whilst also offering the veneer of accessibility from late 2013 onward. Granted, I do not run any obsequious fan accounts about Kerry, so I know there will be some who try to rattle off any number of things I “should know” because they have inhaled every morsel of information and made its consumption and regurgitation their entire online personality. But I am also not a hater who consumes the actor's every move for the purpose of group chat gossip. I like knowing things about people I admire because I like to find points of connection, perspective, recognition…and differences. I admire Kerry Washington…or what she’s allowed me to see. The problem is, when I think about her, I think about a person who seems good and cares fiercely for her country, family, and other people. She’s well-regarded. She’s funny. She’s stylish. She has a great capacity for information. But.

She also seems secretive, and that’s different from being private. I feel like I know of her, about her. But who is she, really? That lack of clarity is partly by design, of course, due to her profession. Still, I hope Thicker Than Water answers the soul of that question: Who is Kerry Washington?

It is with that central question in mind that I pose the following questions. These are MY questions. I am not here to represent anyone’s fandom. I know, too, that I don’t have a ‘right’ to have any of these questions answered. I’m not delulu (as the kids say). I’m being as honest as I can with my own curiosities about Kerry, as both an actress and a human.

These are my questions. I am not here to represent a fandom. Let’s get into the QTNA of it all.

Q1: What childhood scars still itch even into adulthood?

In a recent interview, Kerry mentioned that her therapist has read her book. Samesies! When I finished the pre-copyedited draft of my first book, I started connecting some childhood dots to a few of my ongoing challenges. I asked my therapist to read it so that we could be on the same page in our sessions. It is for this reason that I wonder if Kerry’s reading back of her own writing was revelatory to her in ways she was not able to consciously unlock before. Are there things still there under the surface, the ghosts of which still tingle and itch sometimes no matter how much therapy she has had? Falling back into patterns is easy; undoing them takes so much self-awareness and intentionality.

Secondly, I ask the question based on the excerpt from Thicker that was chosen to appear on Oprah.com. Beautifully conveyed with a stark honesty I had never seen from Kerry, the selection chosen is one that gives us a sliver into the dysfunctions of the Washington’s marriage. Ones that were quite literally disruptive to 7-year-old Kerry. Aristotle famously said, “Give me the child until [s]he is 7 and I will show you the [wo]man.” The theory of the first 7 years of a child’s life has been debated in Psychology. However, anecdotally, I can tell you that both my wife and I carry deeply impactful memories of our selves at age 7, the threads of which still linger. So, why is that memory offered as the amuse bouche to the drawing back of the curtains of Kerry Washington’s life which Thicker Than Water promises (or ‘her truth’ as Kerry calls it)? Does the excerpt set a foundation for the grown up Kerry we now see? For me, the excerpt made me wonder if young Kerry’s (confessed) determination to be the living embodiment of the pleasing, “good” thing that bonded her parents together was the start of a perfectionism that would be hard to shake. Control issues that would find her guarding a carefully curated image that avoids like the plague the possibility of being seen as ‘problematic’ for a stance, an opinion, a view? Or it could be that I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. That is entirely possible.

Q2: Did you experience any body dysmorphia issues during your first pregnancy? Was your second pregnancy different?

This is a difficult and very personal question. I know. It is based on two things: 1) the unusual language Kerry used to refer to her changing body during that time; and 2) the fact that she mentioned, prior to Scandal, she struggled with an eating disorder.

During Kerry’s first pregnancy (2013-2014), I don’t recall her using the word ‘pregnant’. She would say things like how the ‘condition’, ‘orientation’, or ‘physicality’ of her body changed when discussing how she approached acting during that time. I don’t recall her talking about it in personable ways. It felt like if she didn’t have to acknowledge what our eyes could plainly see, she would not have. Kerry appeared much more comfortable with her second pregnancy (2017). Listen, I have never been pregnant. In fact, I am terrified of it, which is why I wonder what it must be like for someone who has struggled with an eating disorder (which can cause body dysmorphia issues). How did Kerry come to embrace such a purposeful but very disrupting change to her body? I have been around a fair number of pregnant women, so I know it’s not all ‘miracle of life’ stuff. The typical pregnancy narratives out there from celebrities don’t typically discuss this unless we can relate it back to inequalities in maternal health care. Even if they do, I’m asking for Kerry Washington’s perspective. I could be entirely wrong, but I’d still like to know was the changing of her body hard for her. I’d love to know how she felt after her first child was born, and what motherhood feels like for her.

A related thing about which I am curious: Did she have any fertility issues and struggle with getting pregnant? And why did she wait until after it was beyond obvious during her Saturday Night Live appearance in early November 2013 to officially confirm she was pregnant? What fear was the fear behind this late decision?

Q3: What makes you sad, insecure, or sometimes need to retreat into yourself?

Kerry seems like a high-energy, joyful, positive person. She’s commented that as an Aquarius, she loves all sorts of people. I can see that. As an introverted Cancerian, I appreciate high-energy people…in doses. Every talk show appearance, red carpet interview, and social media content are all carefully presenting a woman who is very together. I say this because sometimes Kerry speaks in therapy language even when she’s trying to be sincere about overcoming battles. Of course, the image one projects (me, too) is always only partially true—whatever the industry. Kerry is a person and most of us do not have it all together, no matter how much we present it as such, or how much we sweep aside the less salubrious, more complicated parts of ourselves. It’s that stuff that I’m interested in. Where are her edges? Negativity may be ‘noise’ (as Kerry’s Twitter banner displays), but it also gives positivity its meaning. I also recall a saying that happy people are usually the most fucked up ones. Now, I’m not accusing Ms. `Washington of being uniquely fucked up, because we all are in some ways. The always ‘on’ facade is typically a way of hiding (just one of the tools) the things we don’t think we can show. Is she a trainwreck in the mornings and a bitch in the afternoon? Please, I just want to know something real…about Kerry, not just about her parents and her career.

Q4: In what ways, are you like your character Olivia Pope?

On an episode of Unpacking the Toolbox podcast, Kerry’s co-stars/friends, Guillermo Diaz, and Katie Lowes, said that out of everyone in the cast, Kerry is the most like her character (Olivia Pope). Would Kerry say this is accurate or fair? If so, what characteristics does she have in common with Olivia? Please spare me surface-level, obfuscating comparisons such as ‘We look alike :)’ or ‘We’re both passionate about democracy!’ Somehow, I don’t think that’s what Katie and Guillermo meant. I don’t presume anything untoward. I also understand why actors in long-running shows are usually at pains to separate the actor from the character, especially when that character’s messy humanity is on display for everyone to judge. But, again, give me something of substance here.

Q5: In what ways do you draw on your Jamaican heritage? How are you imparting that to your children along with their Nigerian Igbo heritage? And who are your father’s people?

Kerry has been very vocal about her mother’s Jamaican heritage. She has been vocal about immigration, sharing that her maternal grandparents came to America via Ellis Island. In the summer of 2023, she was in Jamaica to film a special about dance forms from around the world. As a Jamaican myself, I would like something more concrete about her Jamaican background. She often mentions her Jamaican heritage, but in what ways is it important to her? How does she call on that heritage as part of her identity? How is she (or not) imparting that sense of culture to her children alongside their Igbo heritage? Lastly, I’m less certain of her father’s origins (presumably in the American South). I’d like to know more about that.

Q6: Why was Hollywood the calling? Did you feel like changing course? If so, when and what put you back on the path towards who you’ve become?

This question is about Kerry’s early experiences in Hollywood. In an old interview (hopefully, I didn’t hallucinate this), she mentioned being told early on to lose 30 pounds and fix her teeth, at which she scoffed. Despite the contemporary irony juxtaposed against the past demand, where did she get the strength of determination and belief in herself to push past what those assholes could not see? As plucky as she seems, everyone has low moments when they are pushing for a dream. What’s one of hers from those early years?

In another interview (or the same?) Kerry mentioned giving herself a year to become a working actor in Hollywood. This is after her post-University travels to India to study Yoga. I want to know more about the jump from Yoga to Hollywood. What was that internal calling, or was it a casual, young adventurous thing she thought she would try? Did the move to Hollywood occur during a highly ambivalent part of her life? If so, how did that feel as a Black woman, since those women are often under pressure to take up a more guaranteed profession than the arts?

Q7: What did you find most challenging about working on Scandal—both as an actress and as a person? What nonsense did you and your castmates get up to behind the scenes?

Kerry has been very grateful for landing a show like Scandal and for the fine company of actors with whom she got to work. Great, but can she tell us the non-PR stuff? I’m not talking about back-biting—I don’t care. I’m always interested in the process for actors and all the changes they go through when working on a long-term project. American TV shows have 16-24 episode commitments every year. That has got to dominate a person’s life! What are some specific ways it impacted Kerry’s life? Actors have talked about how unrelenting the TV schedule is, including Shonda’s reflections in her 2015 book about the incessant demand to ‘lay track’ (write) so that the train that is the TV show doesn’t run off course. I already know that Kerry has borrowed from Ellen Pompeo, the advice to approach being #1 on the call sheet of a TV show the way an athlete would approach her dedicated sport. The point here is that I’m not seeking more information on enduring the schedule. I’m interested in how she kept the motivation and rationale for her character over such a long period. What did she do when she had disagreements about things Olivia was written to do? Would she have done anything differently? What was the thing that Olivia did that she found hardest to justify? Who was that one guest star who gave her nothing when they acted together (alluded to in Unpacking the Toolbox, episode 107)? And finally, can she stop playing diplomat and just say that Tony is the better kisser?

Q8: IDTAMPL was weird. What was the fear behind that, and how do you now define ‘personal life’?

For the uninitiated, or those with short-term memories, the acronym IDTAMPL stands for I Don’t Talk About My Personal Life. Kerry adopted this saying whenever she was interviewed after her marriage to Nnamdi Asomugha was announced on the 3rd of July 2013. Occurring on the brink of the holiday weekend, the news dropped like a bomb in the Scandal fandom. Even outside the fandom. Many were flummoxed, including me. On the 4th of July, I attended a celebration in London with a fellow American who is a big-time Philadelphia Eagles (Nnamdi’s former team) football fan, including the gossip surrounding the team. As soon as she opened her door to me, she said, “Your girl married Nnamdi?!” She consumed more football than Scandal at the time. Suffice it to say, I have left out the accurate number of question marks and exclamations in her voice. Her face, too, was full of them.

Listen, we used to be a proper country. Many celebrities, with and without talent, have lost the art of mystique, preferring instead to cultivate the marketing skill of capturing attention and selling it to us as actual talent.

I am thankful for those celebrities who maintain the mystique of a bygone era. Intrigue me, but don’t shut the door completely. The latter is what it felt like Kerry did after it was announced that she was married. Prior to the announcement, I don’t recall the media being that interested in Kerry’s dating life. It was not a topic that came up. Nor did Kerry ever let on that she was dating, let alone that she had been involved with Asomugha for three years (according to Kerry’s timeline of their meeting in 2009 when she did the Broadway play, Race). I have no qualms with celebrities who don’t make their partners part of their public image, or the ones who wed outside the limelight (Margot Robbie, Chris Evans (recently)). What I don’t like is when they pretend that they didn’t volunteer the information in the first place. Kerry’s team announced the marriage, even giving PR-friendly People Online titbits from “a source close to the couple” about Kerry’s ‘regular’ looking wedding dress (I kid you not. The source called the unseen dress ’regular’). We even learned that the “secret wedding” (every publication used that phrase so it’s deliberate) took place in the potato-producing state of Hailey, Idaho in the last week of June. These things were volunteered.

But once Kerry emerged back on red carpets and public events that summer, she trotted out a new PR line when asked follow-up questions about her wedding, husband, or newly married life: “I don’t talk about my personal life”. After literal years of not mentioning a romantic life, when her very public engagement to David Moscow ended in 2007, it was Kerry who let the public know: 1) She was hiding a boyfriend (shoutout to Pusha T); and 2) Surprise! I’s married now (shoutout to Shug Avery)…but don’t ask me anything about it! Don’t even ask me for a picture with the two of us together to go with your marriage announcement headlines. That’s what photoshop is for. Figure it out!

I’m being facetious, but, girl...

BFFR. Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining. We didn’t ask, but she definitely told us. And when folks followed up on that telling, Kerry closed up tighter than a sphincter with a ‘do not enter sign. That whole era was awkward. Can we acknowledge that, at least?

Lest you think, “You’re being way harsh, Tai”, I’m not. What I sense is that there was some fear Kerry harboured behind revealing her coupling with Nnamdi. What was the source of the fear that led to the IDTAMPL shutdown? Was it because she did not want her personal narrative to be overshadowed by her relationship status? And what inspired her to begin relaxing that… a little? Like, she waited until her second child was born in 2017 to start allowing articles to describe her as “a mother of three”, revealing Nnamdi’s daughter from a previous relationship, which she had not acknowledged before. Was it simply time that allowed her to all but retire the IDTAMPL line? Or were there key turning points that led to slow revelations? And can we agree that the reluctance to talk about a ‘personal’ life is specifically related to her husband (mostly) and children (I support her keeping them off social media)? Words mean things. One’s parents are part of one’s personal life, but Kerry has no qualms about performing her relationship with them on social media. I mean, the excerpt she chose for us to read busts-open like a ripe papaya their whole past marital dysfunction, and her mother’s contemplating being unalive. Like…are such matters not not both personal and private? With all of that in mind, what has prompted this rethinking? How does Kerry now define ‘personal life’?

Q9: What is your most enduring memory from your time in India? Would you go back if you haven’t already?

On more than one occasion, Kerry has referenced her time spent in India. Besides the fact that she chose to travel to the subcontinent after graduation from George Washington University, we don’t know that much about that period (and that she studied Yoga whilst there). Kerry graduated from GW in 1999 (?). I spent five months in the southern states of India in the first half of 2000. I’m not sure if her trip crossed over into the new millennium, but it’s kind of cool to think about us both being in that vast country at the same time. I would love to know what are some of Kerry’s outstanding memories? What did she love about that place? What does she not miss? Did she visit a favourite place, or discover a dish she continues to enjoy? Does she, like me, share Indian heritage as part of her Jamaican identity?

Looking back, did travelling abroad at such a formative age, shape her coming of age in any way? I would welcome any memories or anecdotes from that time in her life.

Q: Beyond “mutual respect” for each other, why are you at your most playful around Tony Goldwyn?

I cannot be sure, but it is likely that Kerry has come across online theories and conspiracies that are both outlandish and semi-reasonable based on visuals alone. Whenever fans (to be clear, I am ‘fans’) are treated to her interactions with Tony Goldwyn, it feels like a hit of sugar injected directly into our veins. Their power has a hold on us.

It is not simply fans seeing in Kerry and Tony a nostalgia for Olivia and Fitz. Both entities are a force unto themselves. Most don’t confuse one for the other, if they have a shred of media literacy. Even people who hated Olivia and Fitz as a couple can acknowledge that there is a je ne sais quoi between Kerry and Tony. Their chemistry has its own fans; it’s palpable. I know that Kerry knows that the Kerry x Tony appearances are gold because she leverages them on social media. She’s leveraging it right now for her book tour. It’s no accident that the Washington, D.C. tour stop with Tony Goldwyn as the special guest was the first to quickly sell out dates were announced. People are coming to that tour stop for the cerise sur la gateau which is the Kerry x Tony bond. I’m not cynical enough (or blind enough) to believe that their interactions are simply good “PRs” for both their images (as some have alleged). No, there is an energy, an authenticity that crackles and fizzes between them, even when they are simply standing next to each other.

Hell, it’s there when one of them simply talks about the absent other. Fair enough that chemistry works in mysterious ways that can’t be manufactured. But when Kerry is in the vicinity of Tony Goldwyn, there is also Physics at play. There is inertia in their body language to familiarity and comfortability with each other in ways that speak to a shared intimacy. I mean that in the sense of closeness and rapport. Kerry and Tony are clearly very close. Beyond the “mutual respect” they say they have for each other, there is something about who Kerry is when she is around Tony that is different than when she is around others. She doesn’t have that with her other Scandal co-stars with whom she has remained friends. Other than her passionate and on-point political advocacy, her time spent with Tony Goldwyn lends a cozy texture to her personality that is more easily felt than described. It’s like popping the bubble of perfectionism and letting out a giant exhale. Me, I exhale when they are together. Am I trippin, or is there something about Tony Goldwyn that effortlessly extracts this playfulness in her, and can she feel it, too?

Bonus Question (A la Inside The Actors Studio): What is your favourite curse word? What sound do you love? What sound do you hate? What scares you? What makes you cry? What petty thing have you had it with? What did you finally embrace only after you were in your forties?

Even if Bravo were to resurrect Inside The Actors Studio [LINK], Kerry Washington will never have the chance to be interviewed by James Lipton because he passed away in 2020. A venerable institution himself, Lipton’s sincere and earnestly pointed manner of asking questions gave actors the opportunity to embark on a journey of both self and art in the space of an hour, in front of a live audience of actors-in-training. Through this show, the audience could learn more about their favourite actor, and all the ways in which the personal intersects with their art, and much more. My favourite part was always the quick-fire round near the end when Lipton would ask the small, quotidian questions that are the true stuff of life. You know, the anti-Hollywood shit. Though it’s a cheat, it is in that vein that the bonus questions above are designed. A few are taken from James Lipton, and others added by me.

Those are all of the questions…until I read Kerry’s tome.

Perfect-seeming people are boring and untrustworthy. But is the perception entirely a fiction created by the celebrity or us?

“…[She’s] clearly a beautiful, intelligent, multi-talented, quietly formidable woman with a Jesus-like heart. From what we can tell, she is highly respected among her peers. Well, that’s who we’ve made her out to be. We choose to see those things in her because that’s what’s on public offer. Because of that, it’s so easy to turn KW into some Magical Negress archetype imprisoned on a pedestal in our minds. We believe Kerry is clean. Kerry walks on water. Kerry makes the fishes and the loaves. As her fans… we mythologize her, and others like her, because we have this deep-seated human need to create heroes for ourselves. We need to believe that there are people less fallible than we are: that if we believe in their perfection, it might take us a little closer towards that ideal… Kerry doesn’t walk on water. She’s not perfect. The reason I know is because she’s flesh and bone and blood, just like you and me.” (Me, 2013)

It's true: the perception is a little but her, a little bit us (me). However, I can’t say that I’ve seen a lot of evidence of the proverbial ‘flesh and bone and blood’. That perception seems poised to change on the 26th of September with Thicker Than Water’s release.

I was surprised (in a good way) to see Kerry reference this early ‘need’ she placed on herself to be ‘good’ as a point of connection for her parents, whose marriage was in trouble. I was also sad because I know what that means. I did that to myself at age 12, and it’s been hard to completely abandon. But the admission intrigued me, and I hope there is more of that kind of self-revelation in the book as the timeline approaches the Kerry we see today. Above all else, my wish for Thicker Than Water, is this: to offer me insight and greater clarity about a woman whose public persona, for the last ten years, has been highly visible, yet persistently opaque.

I get it. To exist publicly as a Black woman in the 21st Century is to navigate a high-wire act. Perception is always on the mind, especially in Kerry’s industry. If you share too much, people have a problem; not enough, people have a problem. Nothing you share is impervious to being twisted into the most ungenerous or scandalous interpretation. We have watched Queen Mother, Beyonce, in the last decade become more deliberate about what she shares with the public. But even she feels like less of a question mark than Kerry Washington. Beyonce has, at least, given us glimpses into her personal life and thoughts via documentaries, BTS photos, and the intimacy of confession in her art—the parts that are beautiful, fucked up, or ambivalent. This is not me pitting two bad bitches against each other. It is me offering an example of another Black woman who has told us that she battles perfectionism, and who has found a way to let us in (or feel like it), through her art, whilst making her boundaries clear.

Thicker Than Water will be a part of Kerry’s artistic self. It is a product of memory and polished fiction; narratives carefully organized and swaddled in beautiful prose (based on the excerpt) that promises to take the reader on a journey. As someone who recently published a book that is small in its number of pages, but big in its revelations of things unspoken and unshared, I know that writing is an intimate act of exploring one’s mind and interiority; of the past and its pertinence with the present. What your mouth cannot say, your fingers will. It is my most profound hope that Thicker Than Water allows me to feel a sense of connection with flesh and blood and bone Kerry Washington. And I hope for her the book accomplishes a giant exhale of whatever she wants to release into the world. Whether or not I will personally be satisfied by the book... stay tuned.

Q: What are your questions for Kerry?

#kerry washington #Thicker Than Water memoir #thicker than water #scandal #tony goldwyn

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