#you do you but that whole idea isn't my jam | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

satorusugurugurl · 1 month

Note

If this request makes you uncomfortable or isn’t something you want to write, I apologize and please ignore my request!

Heyy! I was wondering if I could request a satoru x reader x Suguru smut? With like, some bdsm mixed in yk. Tying reader up, satoru is a tease, and likes to make her squirm and ask questions he know she can’t answer because Suguru is fucking her throat. But Suguru is mean. Mean and tougher than satoru. He tells satoru to stop being so gentle with you, that not only do you deserve rough treatment but you like it. And satoru listens to him, of course. I just want them to run through me like a train😞

Also same mean geto anon (again lol) I’m gonna just sign off w an emoji now :3 -🍭

Hi Anon!

This isn't my cup of tea, it's my FUCKING jam!!

Summary: Gojo and Geto had been on a two-week-long mission, which hadn't gone as smoothly as Suguru wanted. He was pent-up and frustrated. So, of course, Gojo called you to warn you it might not be a good idea to come over. You, of course, did not heed his warning. The second you get home, you realize that you were screwed.

Word Count: 3,706

Warnings: BDSM, rough sex, oral sex, so much sex, degradation, teasing, the smuttiest of smut

A/N: Good God, Satoru x Reader x Suguru is my weakness!! I put my whole heart into this. Geto Suguru, teacher AU, is my kryptonite!

Part Two

She Likes it Like That

“Y/N babe,” Gojo said in a hushed whisper, “you probably shouldn't come home tonight.”

You cocked an eyebrow, looking away from the first year's training. “I'm sorry, did you just tell me not to come home. . .to our apartment?” The world ‘our’ came out like acid.

Gojo sighed overdramatically. “Don't say it like that. I'm trying to save you! Suguru is in such a bad mood.” You listened to him walking around. “I sighed out loud when I noticed the last of my mochi was gone. Fuck you for that, by the way, and do you know what he said to me?” You pinched at the bridge of your nose, waiting for the rant to continue. “He told me to shut the fuck up! For sighing!”

“What did you do to piss him off? Oh, and just an FYI, I bought you more mochi, asshole.”

“Oh—” silence, “thank you-I’m sorry, please don't return it.”

“Satoru! Forget about the mochi. What happened to Sugu?”

The mission your partners were sent on did not go as planned. Their hotel had flooded; it was not like they had time to consider sleeping. The higher-ups sent them to an abandoned mountainside village full of cursed spirits. Poor Suguru had to swallow dozens for nearly two weeks. Gojo had enough; he couldn't stand the pained expression on his face as he gagged the last spirit down. So he decided to Hollow-Purpled the entire village.

The second they got back, the higher-ups scolded the hell out of them. Chastising them, complaining that they didn't do a good enough job. After all their hard work, the time they spent away from home, from you. Those bastards dared to complain about their hard work. It sent Suguru into a terrible mood, one that was bound to end with either a fight or someone getting fucked into the mattress.

One thing about Suguru was that when he was pissy, things felt out of his control. He needed to take control back. Which meant he wanted to have sex. He would be rough, really rough, tying either you or Satoru up, not letting you go until he had calmed down. Or if one of you was fucked too stupid to continue, his eyes focused on the other that wasn't tied up.

“So please, just stay with Ieiri tonight. I'm going to lock myself in my room. Last time he was this pissed off, the both of us were so sore we couldn't move.”

“Ugh, fuckin’ whatever.” This whole situation wasn't fair. You hated how your boyfriends were mistreated.

“Yeah, just stay the—oh, hi Suguru.” There was a shuffling in the background. “No, I wasn't talking shit.” Satoru nervously laughed. “Look, Sugu—no, put down the rope—”

“Toru?” Panic for your boyfriend sank into your stomach.

“Hey! Wait a second—Sugu—”

Before any other indication of what was happening came through the receiver, the other line cut off. So you quickly yelled to the students you had to leave and took off. By the time you made it, you were breathless from running and realized that in your panic, you left your keys at work.

You picked up the spare key hidden under the doormat. Just as you were about to unlock the door, it flew open. You slowly blinked, looking up at a very irritated Suguru. The man radiated gloom and tension. He was in his sweatpants, and his hair was tied in a messy bun, and, dear God, he looked pent up.

“Why the fuck are you using the spare key?”

“I-I uh—”

“Ooooh~ there she is~!” a hand gently rested against Suguru’s shoulder as Satoru peered down at you from behind your dark-haired boyfriend. “There's our girl!”

It only took a moment to see that Satoru mirrored Suguru’s frustration and anger. Oh fuck. The key fell from your hand as you took a step back. Suguru was demanding and rough when he was pent up. Satoru, on the other hand, was a tease. He liked pushing you, making you cry. Both of them being in a pissy mood simultaneously, this was a nightmare for you.

“Y-You, I thought you were in trouble!”

“Oh yeah, no.” Suguru’s soured face slowly twisted into a smirk as Satoru licked his lip. “But you~?” Suguru’s hand darted out, grabbing you by the front of your shirt, preventing you from moving further back. “You're royally fucked.” Before you even had a chance to respond, Suguru and Satoru grabbed you, yanking you inside.

“Awe~” Satoru hummed as he trailed his kiss up the bare thighs he lay between. “Look at you~ trying to clamp your thighs shut.” Gojo’s fingers were buried deep inside of you. Finger fucking you to the edge of yet another orgasm he would deny. “But you can't, can you~? Suguru’s got you all tied to the bed, spread out for us to use you.” A muffled moan escaped you. “Huh? What was that princess? You gotta use your big girl words.” Satoru tilted his head, cupping his free hand around the back of his ear. “Oooh! That's right, you can't talk when getting your throat fucked.”

You gagged as Suguru's cock hit the back of your throat. He was quiet, his eyes shut in concentration. He looked so fucking hot, so focused on the feeling of your mouth. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he pulled in and out of your mouth, grunting softly as you hollowed your cheeks. But the more Satoru spoke, the more Suguru knitted his eyebrows.

“I bet you want me to stuff your pussy, too, don't you~? You want to be spit-roasted between your two boyfriends?” Your pussy twitched at his words. “Oooh~!! Your cunt just twitched. Is that what our sweet girl wants—”

“Satoru,” Suguru snarled, “shut the fuck up.”

“Well, excuse the fuck out of me. Y/N likes it when I tease her.”

Suguru tsked, pulling his thick cock out of your mouth. You gasped and coughed, spit and precum coating your chin. Between your pants and the gasps for air, Suguru went to what you thought would be a head pat. Instead, his fingers tangled in your air with a hard yank, pulling you up to look down at Satoru. His face was flushed, cerulean eyes wide as he looked between his two partners.

“Look at the fucking slutty face she's making.” The grip on your hair tightened. “You think she looks like this because of your pitiful teasing?” A shaky moan escaped you as he tightened his grip harder. “No, she looks like this because this little slut likes it rough.”

Fuck, you wanted more, to run your hands over Suguru’s arms, to grip his cock, urging him to keep fucking your throat. You were desperate to trap Satoru's head firmly between your thighs, forcing him to kiss and lick your clit. Instead, you weakly tugged at the purple restraints tied to both your wrists and ankles. Suguru had set up the rigging underneath the mattress, making it impossible for you to move. Meaning if you wanted his cock back in your mouth or Satoru’s tongue inside of you, you had to wait for them.

What made it more frustrating was the fact that you were completely bare. Not allowing you to hide the way your body reacted to Suguru’s dirty words. He was telling the truth. And the truth was behind your body's reactions. Gojo could see it in the way your tight entrance clenched around his fingers. He could feel your pussy drip around him, your wetness running down his knuckles. Suguru was right; you did like it; no, like wasn't the right word.

You fucking loved it.

Suguru could see the wheels turning in Satoru’s head as his eyes glittered with lust and excitement. “Satoru~ do you finally see it?~” The way Suguru purred his name had Satoru’s cock throbbing. “You see why she came home, even though she knew she’d get fucked?”

“Yeah, yeah, she's a fucking slut.”

“Yeah, she is.” A sharp tug on your head made you yelp. Suguru grinned, cocking an eyebrow at you. “You want it rough? Want me to fuck your throat so hard you cry, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

Gripping his cock at the base, Suguru slapped his thick meat against your cheek. “That's a good girl. Now open up.” slowly, you opened your mouth to him. Watching your tongue slip out had his tip angry, throbbing red. “Now,” he smeared the beading precum over your bottom lip, “say ah~.”

“Ahh~” The second that sound left your pretty mouth Suguru shoved his cock in your mouth. Your eyes stung as tears filled your eyes.

Satoru’s fingers had stopped their slow movements inside of you. His mouth was dry as he gulped. Suguru had been rough before, but this was a whole new level. His thick fingers wrapped around your Y/H/C hair, holding your head in place. His hips pull back before slamming forward, his ass clenching with the force of each thrust. Blue eyes slowly trailed over to your face. Your eyes were red, big tears slowly down your cheeks, and your throat was fucked. Satoru swore he could see Suguru’s tip bulging in your slender neck.

This was fucking hot. Suguru’s bare back glittered in the low light of the bedroom, a sheen of sweat beaded over his toned muscles. It was like watching a god fuck a mortal Suguru radiated a dominating power as he watched their girlfriend choke and gag on his cock. Satoru’s cock was so hard it fucking hurt. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around his throbbing shaft, jerking it slowly as he leaned down, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs.

The gentle kisses had you sighing contently around Suguru’s cock. Looking over his shoulder, Suguru sighed as he watched Satoru. His pink tongue was stuck out, gently teasing your damp folds. The sensation had you sighing around his dick, and that was not what he needed right this fucking second. Suguru wanted more; he needed it to relieve the tension in his shoulder. But that relief, the release he needed, wouldn’t happen, with Satoru teasing you like he loved to do.

“Satoru,” Suguru's voice was rough, “I just told you Y/N likes it rough.”

“Uh-huh~” Satoru’s voice was muffled as his face buried in your pussy, making you whine around the cock buried in your mouth.

“You’re not being rough enough.” Satoru pulled back, making you whine in protest. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to come down here and eat Y/N’s pussy while I get my dick sucked?”

“No.” The cocky smile that was beginning to form on Satoru’s face was suddenly gone as Suguru reached his free hand down, wrapping his fingers in soft white hair. “I want you to fucking eat her cunt out like you fucking hate her.” Your eyes rolled back as Satoru was slammed back down into your pussy. The moan that left his mouth vibrated just right against our clit, making you cry out. “Ah~ fuck yes.” Your cries vibrated around Suguru’s cock, just the way he wanted. “That’s it, Satoru, keep it up.”

“Mmmmph.” Finally, having a picture of how Suguru wanted him to act, Satoru found himself motivated. Again, it might be because his boyfriend was tugging and pulling at his sensitive hairline. Yeah, that was motivating him. Fuck you like he hated you, he could do that. He was just as pent-up as Suguru was.

Fingers slammed inside your pussy, fucking in and out of your tight hole with a force and speed that had you crying out in pleasure. Your moans felt so fucking good, and the more you opened your mouth to cry, the deeper Suguru fucked your throat. He hit the back over and over again, his hand pressing firmly against Satoru’s head, pushing him harder against your clit. The two of you moaned while your mouths were being used; the sounds of whimpers, squelches, and gagging were like a symphony to Suguru’s ears.

Out of all the ways for him to relieve his stress, this was by far his favorite.

“Hah—fuck keep that up, Satoru, bring her right to the edge, then stop. I want her cumming with both of us inside of her. Fucking her so rough she has to call out of work tomorrow and Friday.” The thought of that had you pulling on your restraints. “Oooh oh, you like that? You like knowing the two of us will make sure you can’t walk or talk tomorrow?” Your muffled moans were quickly molded into gags as Suguru roughly fucked your face. “Yeah, you fucking do, you nasty little slut.”

Your mind was spinning as you felt yourself climbing closer and closer to your orgasm. The room was so hot and reeked of sex. It was all you could do not to allow yourself to cum right then and there. Satoru could feel it, the way your little swollen clit throbbed against his tongue, how your walls clamped down on his fingers. He wanted to send you over the edge. He was close to following you as he fucked his hips helplessly into the mattress, wishing it was your wet pussy instead.

One orgasm wouldn’t hurt, would it? You had been so good to them, allowing the duo to drag you into the house, strip you in the entryway, and tie you to the bed. Plus, on top of all that, they had left you alone for two weeks. You had to rely on that stupid vibrator Suguru insisted on allowing you to keep. That stupid toy was nothing compared to his tongue. Which was probably why he was bringing you to a mind-blowing orgasm in under three minutes.

Yeah, he was going to let you cum.

Curling his fingers up into your g-spot, Satoru fucked you as fast as his wrist would allow. Suguru instantly knew what was happening. From the way your eyes shut to how loud you were moaning around him, you were seconds away from cumming. If he was in a better mood, he might have allowed it to happen. Unfortunately, he wasn’t done with you yet.

“Stop.” Suguru scolded, pulling Satoru away from your dripping sex.

Both you and Satoru made disapproving groans as your orgasm slowly faded out of sight. “Doesn’t she deserve a treat? She’s been so good!” Satoru whined, licking your juices off his lips.

“I agree. Y/N does deserve a reward. But you need to give it to her in the roughest way that you can.” Suguru pulled his cock out of your mouth, allowing you to catch your breath. “Look at it this way. We get to blow off the steam while we make up for making her play with herself for two weeks.”

“Huh?” Those words struck a different chord in Satoru, and his cock twitched.

“Y/N, sweetheart, how often would you say you played with yourself when we were gone.”

You swallowed at the air greedily. “I don’t know, seven, maybe eight times.” Both your boyfriends shuddered, hearing the hoarseness of your voice.

“And out of all of those times, did you cum as hard as you do with us.”

“Not at all. They were all baby orgasms.”

Suguru shut his eyes, nodding his head. “See, Satoru, not only does our little slut like us rough and demanding, but we have to make up for those eight little orgasms.” When the dark-haired man looked back at Satoru, he saw a flash of white before your scream of shock and please bounced off the walls.

Suguru’s eyes were slightly wide as his brain tried to catch up with what his eyes had just witnessed. What he saw was Satoru balls deep inside of you. His thrusts were sloppy and needy, and fuck you looked as stunned as Suguru. One second you had been empty, pussy craving a cock deep inside of it from the denied orgasm. In the blink of an eye, Satoru was fucking into you more brutal than he’d ever fucked you before.

“I fucking told you, that toy was nothing compared to us.” Satoru snarled against the crook of your neck, digging his teeth into the sensitive skin. “Fucking stupid toy, not pleasing my girl.”

“Oh my—fuck, holy fuck!” You cried out, mouth wide open. Giving Suguru the perfect opportunity to get back to fucking your throat. The bittersweet taste of pre-cum had your mouth watering. He returned to the brutal pace he was in several minutes again.

“She needs that Satoru. What if we get sent on another long mission? She’s just supposed to suffer?” The thought of that had Suguru tilting his head, bangs falling in front of his eye. “You know what, I think you might be on to something. If we take her toy away, then we’d have to fuck her even harder the next time we get home.”

Satoru’s teeth sank harder into your neck as the tip of his cock slammed almost too hard into your cervix, making you scream around Suguru. “Exactly. Let me use reversal red on it, Y/N, please, baby.” You started to shake your head in a desperate plea to let you keep it. But Suguru’s cock in your throat made it impossible to do so. “What was that? Oh, right, you have your mouth full.” His lips moved against your pulse as his fingers dug into your hips. “Guess we’ll just have to say the way your clamping down on my cock is a yes in our book.” Your eyes darted up to Suguru, who had bought you the toy, for help.

“Mhmm fuck, yeah, I’m pretty sure she just hummed an ‘uh-huh’ around my cock.”

You wanted to argue, to fight against this rash decision, but you felt so good it was almost impossible to care. You were screaming around Suguru’s cock. Tears streaming down your face, leaving behind trails of mascara. They were both being so mean and rough. God, it was so fucking good. Who cared about a clit sucker when your throat and pussy were being fucked into next week.

“She’s close.” Satoru cried out, his balls slapping against your ass. “Oh fuck she’s hugging my cock so tight I’m going to explode Suguru.”

With blurry eyes, you glanced up at Suguru. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes shut tight. “I know, oh fuck I know, I’m so close, Satoru, don’t fuckin’ stop, make her cum, make her cum so hard.” Both his hands grabbed your face fucking your throat roughly as Satoru cried out, his hand pressing roughly on your clit, rubbing it in fast circles.

That was all that you needed. You cried out, squirting all over Satoru’s crotch, abdomen, and the mattress. Your orgasm set a domino effect between your boyfriends. Suguru followed behind you, his body hunched over you, his hands gently squeezing your head as he filled your mouth full of his thick cum. You weakly tried swallowing all of it, but that was somewhat difficult as Satoru extended your orgasm.

His thumb continues to rub your clit until his face scrunch up, mouth open in a feral growl. Satoru's orgasm hit him like a punch in the gut. He fucked all three of you harder, closer to oblivion. The headboard slamming against the wall as the restraint dug into your wrists was the only thing grounding you to remain on Earth. Satoru didn’t let up on the rough thrusts until he felt his cum dripping around his cock onto the bed.

The throbbing pain in the back of your throat, deep inside of your pussy was all the confirmation you needed that your boyfriends had fulfilled their promise. Never in your life had you been fucked so roughly. But it was a pain that you warmly welcomed.

After coming down, Suguru was the first to move gently. The rough hands that had been holding you in a vice gently held you as he pulled his softening cock out of your mouth. “Lay down.” His gruff, gentle voice whispered as he helped rest you against a pillow.

“Oh fuck—“ Satoru lifted his head off your shoulder, “I haven’t cum that hard in a while.” He was so slow, pulling out of you, grimacing as you cried out. “Sorry, fuck I’m sorry, baby.”

You shut your eyes, listening to Satoru getting out of bed. You could hear water running in the bathroom as gentle fingers began undoing your restraints. “You did such a good job, Y/N,” Suguru whispered. “Such a good girl for us.” His praise had you humming happily as he made quick work of the rest of the ropes.

“Suguru, let’s order in, yeah?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

The next half hour was a blur of warm happiness. Satoru helped wash your body in a bubble bath before Suguru joined you, kneeling next to the tub, lovingly stroking your face and hair. After you were cleaned up, your hair brushed, and pajamas on. You crawled into your bed with fresh sheets and relaxed. Satoru and Suguru fluffed your pillows and brought you a cup of tea for your raw throat. When your dinner arrived, the three of you sat in bed together to eat as a B-grade horror movie played on the television.

After eating, Satoru left to throw out the take-out containers. “Mmm, thank you for letting us do all that,” Suguru said as he crawled into bed after his shower. “That mission, it was rough.”

“I’m always happy to help.” Your voice cracked, making Suguru frown. “Stop frowning,” you flicked his forehead. “I like it rough.”

The bed dipped, and Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist. “Y/N can handle it. She is dating the two strongest, after all.” Both you and Suguru scoffed, relaxing in the growing silence. “Oh, by the way, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You yawned, snuggling into Suguru’s chest as he turned the bedside lamp off.

“Did you bring home my mochi?”

In the dark of the room, you heard a thump and Satoru’s whine before Suguru pulled the three of you closer to him. “Satoru shut the fuck up about the mochi.”

704 notes · View notes

husbandhoshi · 3 months

Text

TO GROW LOVE (AND EAT IT TO THE CORE)

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader wc: 8.1k summary: your whole life, you've only wanted one thing. then you meet mingyu. suddenly you want too much, and you wish the summer never ended. notes: farmer!au, established relationship, angst/hurt/a little comfort

this is a birthday fic for my one and only cat @wuahae ! yes this is about half a year late but what can i say. all good things come with time. thank you for being so kind, funny, and thoughtful (and patient)! not a day goes by where i’m not thankful for our friendship :)

and a million thanks to hana @wqnwoos and jackie @97-liners for helping me with edits. literally you guys are insane writers and i will never stop looking up to you.

i. strawberries (the summer we were young)

When a strawberry is ripe, the seeds push out from the heart of the fruit, as if it's bursting from the inside out.

This is one of the few and only things you've learned by living in Seogwipo, where strawberry season comes like a supernova. The May sun, full and heavy, peels into summer, and the roadside farms open their doors, trying to catch stray vacationers from Jeju City on the other side of the island.

That being said, there are approximately two things to do here. One of them is farm. The other is pretend like you have a life, which is your childhood friend Yizhuo's favorite thing to do when she's back from university on summer break.

Today, this involved convincing her ritzy, too-good Seoul friends that they're missing out on this side of Jeju. (Missing out on what? You're not sure. Perhaps the chipped paint of the mural walls, or the endless flat-topped stretches of seagrass. Yizhuo isn't fooling anyone, but you've always liked stretching your legs out in the bed of her pick-up, even on the long drive to nowhere.)

Unsurprisingly, her friends quickly came to the same conclusion. Just one look at your local strawberry patch, with none of the glamour of the bloated tourist traps in the city, and they decided they'd rather spend the afternoon at the beach.

It was then, between the fragaria blooms, when you met Mingyu. He asked for your name, and the rest was history. Yizhuo and co. scattered like the grasping hands of an overripe dandelion and you learned that he was, one, the newly-graduated son of a pair of local farmers, and two, very, very attractive. Almost too much so, especially for a place like this.

Now he holds up a berry, a bright red murder between his fingers, and tells you to try it.

"You must be delusional if you think i'm taking food from a stranger," you laugh, perched on the fence bordering the field. It sprawls before you, melon stripes on the sunbaked ground.

"No, my name is Mingyu," he replies. "No idea who delusional is." His smile, all bright lip and snaggletooth, tears into the scarlet belly of a newly picked strawberry.

"We all know what happened to Persephone."

"Well, if the underworld was a strawberry patch, I wouldn't mind being stuck there for all of eternity."

"What're you picking all these for, anyway?" you ask, watching Mingyu struggle with his too-big straw hat between the vines. His woven basket bleeds over with little berries.

"Jam. I make it on the very first day of every summer."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who trespassed on my farm. You're cute, but I won't let you off easy."

He laughs at how you balk, clearly red-handed. You're not sure how to tell him you don't think you were supposed to be here either. You don't do things like sit in the back of trucks, trespass, or talk to pretty farmer boys who take a fancy to you, but it's the summer before you graduate and you're not even sure how long you'll have to continue making bad decisions.

"Are you gonna take my first-born now?" you joke instead. The daylight runs down the rim of Mingyu's hat, trickles down his brow, and you wish you could pour the image of him into a jar and keep it forever.

"No, but I will invite you in for some fresh jam on toast. I baked a loaf this morning." and when you say nothing, he continues. "The strawberries are only good once a year. It's the best you'll ever have. Promise."

It's a whine and a half, and somehow you convince yourself this will be the last bad decision you'll make. You've been here long enough to know that good things don't come twice in Seogwipo, and he is unlikely to be an exception.

Yizhuo blows up your phone, you tie the gingham apron around Mingyu's tiny waist, and the basket turns to blood in the saucepan.

Mingyu is right. Love comes to you in that kitchen, high and red like the sun, and the jam never tastes as good as it does that summer.

ii. watermelon (hollowed out, like a magic trick)

"A good watermelon sounds like a heartbeat."

You watch Mingyu heave the fruit, small and striped, out of his grocery bag. It joins the array of egg sandwiches and banana milks you picked up from the store together earlier. (There should have been chocolate Pepero too, but you split the box on the walk).

You're on a picnic, sprawled out on the outcropping overlooking the water. The path up is basically right behind your house, but you had never cared to visit. It had always been the local makeout spot, a schlocky teen crawl for those with nothing better to do, and yet, with Mingyu stretched out beside you, it seems newer. More exciting.

You're still just friends, or at least that's what you told Yizhuo. But ever since you sat on Mingyu's kitchen counter and ate from his jam-covered spatula, you don't think you've gone a week without seeing him. It's been almost two months, which seems so long and yet not long enough—he makes it easy to be greedy.

"See?" He thumps the watermelon with the heel of his palm. "Try it."

You already went through this entire charade at the grocery store, right in front of all the local aunties, but you indulge him. There's little point to triple checking if it's still ripe, but you think he just likes hitting it.

"It sounds good," you say. "But how are we even gonna eat it? We don't have a knife."

"Watch this." Mingyu procures a coin from his pocket. "You didn't learn this in elementary school? I feel like everyone was doing it."

"Here?" you ask, incredulous.

"Yeah, here. I grew up here too, you know."

He holds the edge of the coin to the skin and slams his palm into it once more, so that it lodges itself into the rind, and begins dragging it around the fruit. You start to wonder if he bought the watermelon just to show you a party trick—not that you mind, though. The strain of his biceps peeks through his rolled up white tee, and you remember why he was able to stop you with just one look back when you first met.

"No way." The watermelon is so ripe, it bleeds around the incision. "I feel like I know everyone here. And I definitely would have remembered you."

"I was probably, like, two grades above you," he replies. "And my parents shipped me off to live with my cousins after elementary school. They said I should get out of Seogwipo and experience the real world."

"Good call. There's nothing here." You watch Mingyu spin the melon over to cut through the other side. The coin catches the sunlight, and it looks like gold. "I wish I left for university. The one here is so small."

"Really?" He pauses to show you his handiwork. The two melon halves roll over on their backs, their cut edge cruel and jagged. "Cool, huh?"

"Impressive," you say. "Honestly. I really didn't think that would work."

"I didn't either when I first saw someone do it. But I’ll try anything once," he replies, ripping open the packaging of the plastic spoon from the bag. "I can't believe you don't like it here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot." He shoves the spoon in his mouth, and you watch the watermelon juice pool around his lips. "I missed home. The trees and the tall grass and the ocean. All the fruits. Everything. I learned to ride a bike, right down there by the water."

"Hm." He passes you the spoon. You don't want to hog it, so you carve out a piece bigger than you need. "Are you gonna work at the farm?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet," he says. "I think I want to be here, though. Maybe do something with food, but I want to be home."

"That's funny, because I think I’ve always wanted to live a different life. Or at least one somewhere else."

"You want to go to law school, right?"

"Yeah." Mingyu is right. The watermelon is all sugar, and you would almost feel guilty for eating it if it wasn't technically good for you. "I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. It's something about the people watching, I think."

"That’s really cool," Mingyu says, mouth full but no less sincere. It's then that you notice your shoulders are almost touching, and your heart crawls back up to your mouth. "You know what you want. I admire that."

He makes it sound like a compliment, but you're sure it's a curse.

You think of your parents. There's a permanent wrinkle ironed into their foreheads, the paper crease of expectations and high standards. It's not that they didn't care, but their kind of care was a humbled sort, made heavy by a hard life. It didn't help that your big sister Seohyun went straight from Yonsei to work a big tech job in San Francisco and never once looked back.

But you can't blame any of them—wanting has always been a hereditary failing. Sometimes Yizhuo will catch you frowning at nothing, and then you remember that life isn't a performance and every day ends at the same time no matter how hard you work. But you don't know how to tell her that the only thing you can do sometimes is want, because otherwise you wouldn't really have much at all.

It seems like the exact opposite of how Mingyu lives—everything about him seems to pass like the seasons. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Thank you. Really." You dig the spoon into your half of the melon. There isn't much left. "You're way too nice to me."

"It’s not hard to be," he laughs. "Maybe you're just too hard on yourself."

You're losing track of the distance between the two of you. You can almost feel the heat playing off his skin.

"Maybe."

It's then, under the veil of summer, where you meet Mingyu's gaze and, finally, things seem close to simple.

All you know are his eyes, heavy with sun, and then the slow, slow move of his lips against yours. He tastes like August, long and sweet, and for once you know what it's like to not only want, but to have, and to have again.

The ocean sings on the horizon, and the watermelon bellies weep.

iii. adzuki beans (or, the blood of a headless taiyaki)

Mingyu eats taiyaki headfirst because he says it hurts less.

"That makes no sense," you tell him, your pinkies linked. You never really liked holding hands, but yours fits so perfectly in Mingyu's and there's some girlish, childlike shine to it when you watch his finger search for yours after just a moment separated.

"What do you mean."

He breaks your gaze to eye a red bean taiyaki, like an unwilling predator sizing up their prey. It's the lamest, most embarrassing iteration of National Geographic you've ever seen, and yet you cannot find any fiber within yourself not deeply in love with the lion.

Fall is a forgiving place for your relationship to settle. You're now a senior at university and he's started his gap year. Gap implies he's in the middle of something, but in true Mingyu fashion, he leaves it up to fate, or chance, or something not nearly as kind (whim).

"Taiyaki isn't alive. And why would you want to pretend it is? Eating gummy bears would become an extinction event."

"It kind of is." He holds out the tail end of the taiyaki, the pastry almost explicitly flayed open, in front of you to eat. "Why does the Haribo bear have a face? Why do the gummy bears live in a gummy forest?"

"Great, so now I can’t even enjoy gummy bears without feeling like a serial killer?"

You dig your pointer into his shoulders, broad from all the time he spends on the farm. To think that his hands, big and weathered, were made to pick berries (and now wrap around your pinky finger) is bruising, if not ridiculously funny.

"It's a crime of passion. Gummy passion. Prosecute that."

He kisses your cheek and your heart almost squeezes into two.

The terrible thing about being with Mingyu is how seemingly endless his affection is. Now he's feeding you in public and buying the two of you matching socks (cat and dog, to be exact), although you'll admit it's a little charming, even if the neighbors do gossip.

He's sweet, too sweet, and his kisses stick to the back of your throat.

But you can't be fooled. There's an unsaid violence to the way Mingyu loves. (The meticulous spiral of the peel he carves when you ask for him to cut you an apple. The grind, decisive and cruel, of a knife against a cutting board. A pair of canines against your neck, your jaw.)

Even now, he bites the head off another unwitting taiyaki before stuffing it back in the bag.

"We're still splitsing, right?" he says, with perhaps 1% of his mouth available for speaking and the other 99% murder machine.

Splits, he always says before you share food. You never had the heart to tell him that it's in the same family as mines or sharesies or takebacks—silly childhood relics, ones that no one uses anymore because they don't mean anything.

This time, you don't hear him because you're thinking about the law school fair you went to before Mingyu picked you up. The future is so close, it scares you. A year from now, what ground would you be standing on? Would it smell like this—the peat, the thread-spool fields, the balm of the ocean? Would you still have Mingyu's finger wrapped round yours?

"Have you decided if you're staying at the farm?" you ask.

"Not really." He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. "If my sister decides to take over, I’m actually kinda thinking of going to pastry school instead of getting a masters."

Mingyu had been toying with the idea for some time after you had talked about it on the outlook. It started off as a joke (September; a galette), then a what if (October; green tea mochi), and now it sits at a kinda.

"Kinda?"

The word gathers speed in the pachinko machine of your mind. You never liked being a kinda person. For Mingyu, it seems like a luxury of a word, but for you, it's really just another thing to hide behind. Kinda talented, kinda ambitious, kinda just there. You're always one foot in, one foot out of something better.

"Yeah, kinda. Why?"

"I dunno. What if we both end up leaving?"

"Maybe. You still want to, right?"

You would be lying if you said you didn't—it's what you always wanted. Seogwipo has been a sun-rot, too-small crutch for you, but you would also be lying if you said you weren't terrified that you'd eventually come back, limping like some doomed Icarus, unable to truly make it in the real world.

Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.

"I’m not sure," you say, because, as much as you don't like it, it's the only answer you have.

"It's ok. You'll figure it out. You always do." He squeezes your cheeks together between his thumb and index, laughing at how they pillow out underneath his fingers. "Screw pastry school. I could come with you. Who else would keep you fed?"

Mingyu's complete and unfounded belief in you makes you feel something close to betrayal. How could he say any of that? With what proof? Only someone like Mingyu would be able to hold the wrinkled fruit of your unremarkable life between his palms and see something better than that. Maybe it's because he grew up on a farm. Either that, or he already cares for you too much, too painfully.

Secrets are easy to keep when they look like yours. At least here, in the pit of your stomach, you can keep count, take attendance of them, all your tittering, small anxieties. Some days it feels like your ribs are pressing out, but it's better than cutting everything loose to spill out over what little you do have control over.

You can handle a little pressure. You have to.

What concerns you is the hand Mingyu's got across your chest. With one look, he just might gut you. A twist of the heart-knife, and all those carefully wound insides carved out in an instant—maybe he'd pity you, but worse than that, he'd likely be disappointed.

For you, expectation has always stood taller than shame, and the idea that he sees something past you makes you want to run away.

"I could be a house husband," he says as easily as ever. "You'll be off saving the world, arguing with whoever, and I'll be there to run you a bath afterwards."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you reply, binding up the strange, hollow feeling in your stomach with a laugh.

There's a scared little girl hiding inside you, and whether Mingyu sees her or not hurts the same. A spade is a spade. You can only pretend so long.

You look at the taiyaki floating in their wax paper bag, blinded and wrought open by the same grin that now peels you down, and you're not hungry anymore.

iv. winter pears (rotten, outside your parents' house)

Mingyu's family loves Christmas.

You think it's because of the pear trees they have in the front yard. They stand bravely before the house, all emerald ash and wisdom in the December freeze. Run your palms over the knobs and it's like you can see into a sleepy visage of simpler days past. (Below its heart, carved: 1982, the year the farm was bought. Along the tangle of the roots: gyu waz here, in an unsure, childish scrawl.)

Winter comes to the countryside crawling on its hands and knees. On days it doesn't snow, there's a mist, boggy and clingy. You've come to realize the cold is more of a threat than a promise, and so the pear trees still bear fruit; the silvery branches hang heavy, faithful.

The first day of December, Mingyu's parents had tasked the two of you with decorating the farmhouse, a duty you took very seriously. You wrapped Mingyu up in string lights and watched him blink in and out like your own personal firefly.

It wasn't until you watched the rafters, the barn doors, the joyous vault of the ceiling all glow, like a spectacular firework, that you finally started to understand why Mingyu was so into the holidays.

It was in the yellow blush of the string lights that you had your first pear from the tree, which Mingyu insisted was a holiday tradition. We make poached pears, he said, mid-bite. You simmer the pear in syrup until it gets so soft, you can cut into it with a fork. Just like butter.

That same night, he kissed you, mouth hot and trembling and tasting of honey, and pressed you against the bark so hard, you could feel the grit of its veins against your skin.

You think December became your favorite month, and pears your favorite fruit.

So much so, that for the entire month, you try to put away your worries about law school applications to celebrate with Mingyu and his family.

You learn his mom makes the best hot chocolate (a cinnamon stick and a dogged devotion to the whisk), and that Mingyu has no clue on God's green earth how to ice skate. (He careens right into your chest the first time. You spend the next hour with him attached to you like a backpack—he manages to find the most impractical ways to do anything, which you somehow admire the most). On Sundays, Yizhuo ditches her Seoul friends and instead accompanies you to the mall two towns over, where she watches you compare different ties and watches and collagen creams as you decide on gifts for his family. (Lilac is so last year, she'd say, stirring the straw of a watered-down milk tea.)

It's not until the weekend before Christmas when you realize just how serious things have gotten. Your feet understand the meander of the dirt path to the farmhouse, your bones the scent of the yellow-skinned apple, the faded wildflowers. Your palms crave the plush of the rug they have in front of the fireplace. Hell, you can't even eat soondubu without thinking of the kind Mingyu's dad makes, with extra anchovies and green onion.

You don't think about what this means. There are ten days left in December and love poured from a full cup never seems to run out.

"Please let me carry some of those," Mingyu wheedles. "Oh my god. I'm like the worst boyfriend in the world."

"No, you are not." you make your way up to his doorstep, taking care to one-two step over the stray roots of one of the pear trees. It's second nature to you by now. "The moment I hand you a box, you are gonna start trying to figure out what it is."

He harumphs and plucks the big one off the top anyway, the one he knows you can't reach. "I didn't even know you were getting us gifts. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do. Who shows up to a holiday dinner emptyhanded?" You stop at the front door. "And stop shaking it," you laugh, using the tip of your boot to nudge his shin.

"Okay. Okay," he says, saccharine, adoring, before grabbing the doorknob. "Ready? Are you nervous? You shouldn't be nervous, right? It's not fancy or anything, if you were worried about that."

And that's the thing that wedges itself between your ribs. Mingyu and his whole family are like this. They love and worry and love again; it presses deep into you, fills you, and overflows.

So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people—they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.

"No, no," you wave him off. "I’m fine. Excited."

When Mingyu opens the door, everything goes just as you expected. His sister takes your coat, your gifts are whisked away to the tree (Aji has already figured out which one is his), and his parents descend upon you in a choking swell of warmth and charity.

We baked some fresh bread for your parents (—Thank you so much, but you really shouldn't have.). You look so beautiful in that color (—No, no, you flatter me too much.). Mingyu better be taking good care of you (—He is. He really, really is.).

The kitchen is gauzy with cinnamon, anise. They must be making their famous poached pears, which Mingyu remarks on, just like clockwork.

Dinner passes the same way. It bubbles over with affection, and you feel swallowed by an impossible yearning. This—a full table and a hand to hold underneath it—did you deserve this? And could you keep it?

For an instant, you picture yourself, years later, at this same seat. Mingyu would be fussing over the rice cakes, his apron still gingham because it reminds him of the day you two met. His parents, grayer but no less happy, bickering over the shade of tinsel on the tree. And the dogs, coiled at your feet like they are now. The vision laps at your bones like you're a raft in a storm.

You're pulled back into the moment when Mingyu squeezes your hand, grounding and insistent. "Mom asked how school was going. I told her I think you're basically the smartest person I know, and I’m pretty sure you're getting into whatever law school you want."

Mingyu's parents laugh, and they cut through their pears.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Um."

Clink. Knife meets flesh, meets porcelain. Your cheeks are hot. You wanted to talk about anything other than yourself tonight. Clink.

"The top programs are a reach, but it'd be nice." clink. "I just want to get in somewhere."

"They’re all so far away," Mingyu's mom remarks. "So grown up. Any school will be lucky to have you. You'll get into all of them."

Clink.

"Or maybe you can stay here." You watch the prongs of Mingyu's father's fork disappear into the pear. "Keep us old folk company."

"No, no, I think Mingyu should take notes and get off his lazy ass," his sister says, teasing. "Going back to the city will be good for him."

"So you can, what, burn down the kitchen again?" Mingyu grumbles, and the whole table seems to boil over with laughter.

"We’re kidding," his mom tells you. "No matter where you go, I’m sure you'll do great. We can even throw you a party at the end of the year. For graduating."

Clink. Clink.

There's a horrible uneasiness writhing around in your stomach. It's pear and syrup and clove and a blackness, an anxious, selfish one that sucks up all the generosity of the evening and turns it into shame.

Mingyu's mom is talking about throwing you a graduation party, something you didn't even think to do for yourself, and here you are, thinking about the shaking moment you open your rejection letters and the lonely path you'll draw on your way back home.

It's ok. They missed out, Mingyu would say, pouring you a consolation drink, and then it would be over. You'd go home and sit on your bed and the trifold piece of paper would go round and round your head like it was in a washing machine.

Your heart, an inventory of tasks and goals and tally marks. Things you've taken and things you've owed. It's a soft, boneless excuse. Be grateful. Give them that, at least.

Clink.

Dessert ends before you can tell his family not to get their hopes up. Mingyu's mom sends you off with your loaf of bread and a kiss on the cheek, and the moment is gone.

"Gyu," you call out on the steps in front of the house.

There are words at the seam of your lips. You want to tell him you're sorry for worrying so much. For making the whole dinner about you and then very possibly having nothing to show for it when it matters. For the heaviness in your chest. Your cowardice. But none of it comes out.

Instead you watch Mingyu pull at the leaves of a pear tree, watching the frost-filigree they get at the end of the season. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, as if he's on the hazy cover of a magazine. His eyes bend so wonderfully at the corners when he looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

"You had fun, right?" he asks. "My parents like you a lot, you know. I think they really do."

But that's the problem, you want to say. You all do, and I have no idea why.

Some of the pears are beginning to rot now. You watch one drop off the vine, and it caves to the pavement like it was made of nothing at all.

v. wild barley (grows like weeds)

In March, you play house.

Your parents leave on a two week trip to see relatives, and Mingyu takes it upon himself to make sure you survive.

It's a kind, blinding charade.

(7 am, breakfast. You usually don't even eat breakfast, but you wake up to doenjang and a smile, one that presses itself to yours until you're wearing it on the long walk to school.)

(4 pm, the stretch between lunch and dinner. You're muddling through another useless club meeting when Mingyu sends you a picture of him in your mom's apron, making kimchi. Kiss the chef, he texts you. You promise to, over and over and over.)

It's good until it isn't.

That isn't to say that it's Mingyu's fault. In fact, it's never really Mingyu's fault, and that's the worst thing about your relationship. Sometimes you wish he was worse just so there was someone else to blame.

(1 am, a fridge-cold glass of water and a hand on the column of your spine. Can't sleep? He asks. Just had a weird dream, you say.

It's a lie. You're a liar.

You miss your parents and the first wave of acceptance letters comes out in two days. You're not like him. Sleep has never been a cure for the exhaustion you're feeling, and you have no way of telling him that however warm the bed is won't fix that.)

It's on a Thursday afternoon when you open your mailbox and see the tiny, thin envelope that you've been expecting for the past week. You don't need to open it to know what it says, and yet you do it anyway.

The sun is white, a ghost in the spring sky. The ocean bleeds into the overcast, the curly barley stands tall around your feet, and you let the worst letter you've gotten in your life fall upon your shoulders, word by terrible word.

Then you close it, pinching the seam shut, and draw up your brave face. Nothing left to do but be brave. You're convinced you've used up all the sadness in your relationship—spend in pennies and the well still runs dry. Mingyu will cup your cheek and call you darling, pouring into your emptying basin, holey and broken.

You see him now through the kitchen window, Venus in his clamshell of a kitchen. Galbijjim day, he had said this morning. Now, he waves at you, glittery with recognition.

Your throat feels like crumpled paper.

Mingyu smiles at you, hazy through the glass. Your cheeks hurt and your mouth is paper mache, but you smile back anyway.

///

The letters come one after another.

You know what the envelopes hold and yet you keep opening them. The little folder you keep stashed in your bottom drawer gets fatter every passing day because you can't help but revisit your misery, almost as if you need to remind yourself it exists.

Mingyu is none the wiser. Today he decides he'll put off pastry school for one more year. "It doesn't feel like the right time," he says, rolling a log of burdock kimbap up. "You know what I mean?"

No, you don't. You never really do.

You do know, however, that it would feel really fucking bad that, come the end of the year, to have nothing. All your friends would be going somewhere—even Yizhuo opened her acceptance to an MFA program in Shanghai yesterday—and you would be here, still, feet firmly planted in the muddy Jeju dirt like they always had been.

"Hey, don't look so disappointed." he jokes. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me."

You're not, you really aren't. But part of you wonders if it's just a race to the bottom. If you got rid of him before he decided he wanted to get rid of you, maybe it would hurt a lot less. One less letter for the folder.

"Never. But imagine if you picked up a French accent at pastry school. Then I’d consider it. Maybe."

You watch his knife rock back and forth on the cutting board as he cuts the kimbap.

"Some for you. And more for me," he says, in what you can only describe as someone attempting to speak French when they've never heard it before. "Unless you want more, mon cherie."

He brings the plates to the table, his grin nothing short of dizzying.

"I’m irresistible, huh? Still wanna leave me now?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, I think."

The words roll off your tongue, easily, traitorously.

You watch the kimbap disappear off of Mingyu's plate.

Going, going, gone.

///

Seogwipo is always dark at night, only kept alive by the glow of the moonlit sea.

You can't sleep. Again. And so you sit out on the steps in front of your house, letting the twilight wrap around you like a blanket.

You got your last letter back earlier today. You held your breath and tore it open like you would a birthday card with money in it.

Waitlisted.

It was surely better than a rejection, but some naive, child-eyed part of you thought that if you had just closed your eyes and hoped hard enough, things would work out the way you had planned. Tragically, it wasn't enough this time. You wanted and wanted and you thought maybe that would mean you'd come close to deserving it.

Your parents called today. After managing to sideline the issue of basically the rest of your entire life, they had finally cut through your sad little charade. No good news yet, huh?

No, but—

It was always like that with you. No, but it's not as bad as you think. No, but give me a chance. No, but I’m trying. I've been trying.

You wish things didn't come out of you so complicated. That you could be like Seohyun, who could go through school with her eyes closed and still graduate at the top of her class. Instead, you parade around your little failures, trying to convince people it all could mean something only if they squinted. See? It isn't so bad.

You think you're past the point of crying about it. Your stomach hurts, you're cold, and most of all, you just want to go back to bed. Plus, although Mingyu sleeps like a log, you think he's developed a sixth sense for whenever you get up too early.

Time to be brave, you've been telling yourself, although you don't know who you're pretending for anymore.

So you nudge the front door open—it's so old, it wails if you come at it with any more force—and, to your surprise, see the light above the kitchen sink turned on.

It's not very bright, but it's enough to make out Mingyu's broad silhouette, back turned to you as he makes a cup of tea. He's humming one of his made-up songs.

"Mingyu?"

"There you are," he says, turning around. "Just came out to check on you. And make you some tea."

The kettle whizzes. Your gut twists.

You still haven't said anything to Mingyu. To manage your own disappointment was one thing—you don't think you could handle another person's. And yet when he stands there, Pororo mug between his huge hands, you feel as if you are holding a knife, big and guilty and bloody.

"I-I'm fine, Gyu. Honest." you watch his expression flicker, unreadable in the persimmon lamplight. "Sorry you had to come out. It's chilly out here."

"You know, you can tell me what's going on. I won't judge."

No, no, no. This is the last conversation you wanted to have, with the last person you wanted to have it with.

You feel feverish. You think your hands are shaking.

"Mingyu, I swear—"

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can."

That almost makes you want to laugh if you didn't want to cry so bad. Of fucking course he would say that. Mingyu, who treats life like it's the watermelon trick he showed you on the outlook, wants to put a bandaid on this whole thing, as if that could come close to fixing it.

He'd tell you to curl up on the couch with a bad movie while he orders takeout. Kiss you on the top of the head. It's ok, baby. Just another bad day for the person who has the worst luck in the world. Another lump of problems for him to try and make better. If he isn't sick of you now, he sure would be soon enough.

"It’s okay," you say, steeling your voice. "It really isn't a big deal. Let's just go back to sleep."

You try to walk away, but the hardness in Mingyu's eyes roots you down to the tile.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," he swallows. "Like you always do. I know something's going on."

"I’m not, i just—"

"You just what? You can't help it?"

"No, I—"

"Because you like to know that you can? That you can say whatever and then watch me come back?" A fragmented, heavy silence thrums between you. He's looking at you like he's daring you to say something, anything. His gaze is black. "What am I good for if you can't tell me anything?"

There's that familiar, stinging pressure behind your eyes. You think you're crying, but you're not sure. Maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"Fine," you bite. Your blood feels like hot metal. "You really wanna know? I didn't get into law school. There. Happy now?"

Mingyu looks stung.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

Because I thought you would stop loving me. I thought you would have finally had enough.

"Because it's not all about you, Mingyu."

The words, selfish and damning, burn your tongue. Mingyu is right. This is what you always do. You fuck up and then make everyone else hurt for it.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says. His voice doesn't sound like his. Instead, the words seem to hang in the air, trembling and holding their breath, waiting for an apology you can't give yet. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok." You swallow hard, and it hurts. "Let's just go back to bed."

It's getting colder and colder. You think there's a little hole in your sock, right above the cat's whiskers.

Mingyu doesn't reach for you as he passes to get to the hallway. Maybe he doesn't know how to anymore.

The Pororo cup is left abandoned on the counter. You walk over and read the label on the tea bag—barley, because you have class tomorrow morning.

You pick it up, let the ceramic buzz between your hands with whatever warmth it has left, and hold it to your lips.

It's cold now, but all you can think to do is drink it. Erase all the evidence that tonight ever happened, and maybe it'll be nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

There's honey at the bottom of the cup. It sears the back of your throat, but you drink until there's nothing left.

vi. the peach blossoms (without fail, bloom every August. I miss you.)

You broke up the next day.

Even now, you remember what happened. You had woken up early that morning to make your own breakfast because you couldn't allow Mingyu to give you any more of himself. Your hands could only hold, shatter, so much.

"Mingyu, I think we should...." You looked at the zigzags of jam on your toast, angry and uneven. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For now," you had added, as if that made anything better at all.

Somehow that seemed more merciful at the time. Really, you think it just showed your cowardice. If you were going to break his heart, you might as well have gone all the way the first time.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mingyu saw right through you. He always did.

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna give up on us?"

"No, I just...need some time."

"How long?" he asked. "Be honest with me. Because you know I’ll wait."

"I don't know." You couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes reached and reached over that kitchen table and you denied him even that.

"Don't you always know?" he asked, pitifully, desperately. "Don't you want this to work?"

And you did. In fact, you don't think you had ever wanted anything more, and it was that that scared you. You had already lost law school—you couldn't let the only other thing in your life let you go. So you pulled the trigger first.

"We should just end things. I'm sorry. I can't give you what you need."

He packed his bag within the hour, and you think everything, from then on, froze inside you. You didn't move from your seat until your parents came home from the airport later that day and asked why there were two plates of toast still on the table.

You think you knew, someplace, inevitably, this would happen. You, who only knew hunger, had reached deep inside Mingyu and rooted out a love you didn't think you were worthy of having. And yet you still ate from the vine, bite after guilty bite, until you couldn't take any more. The only time he asked you for anything at all, you couldn't give it to him—such was the irony of your relationship.

Maybe you were doomed the moment the first strawberry hit your tongue, just like you had said, all that time ago.

About a month later, you got another letter in the mail. Chungnam National University Law School, it read. This one was fat, in one of those brown envelopes lined with bubble wrap. Somehow, miraculously, that position on the waitlist had turned into an acceptance. You held the package to your chest and cried, loud and with abandon, as if taking a deep breath after almost drowning.

Ironically, the first person you wanted to tell was Mingyu. But the good news you needed to save your relationship came too little, too late. Perhaps that meant it had no legs to stand on in the first place, but that didn't stop you from missing it. Instead, you told Yizhuo, and she drove you to Jeju City and treated you to dinner. "You should just call him," she had said. "Hey, don't look at me like that. He'd probably pick up on the first ring."

The city is swathed in August's crimson summer—peach season. The narrow streets are lined with peach trees, the fruits glowing like fat drops of sunlight. All you do these days is plan for your eventual move to Daejeon and the start of a life that seems newer and shinier than your own. But surrounded by the cicada song, the velvet treeline, the rain-soaked asphalt, somehow you think you're going to miss Seogwipo more than you think.

(Fickle, fickle heart. You always needed things to be taken away to really be able to appreciate them. Somehow, all that wanting had boiled down to something more satisfying, more filling.)

You wonder how Mingyu is. Now that you think about it, he seems just as much a part of Seogwipo as the farm he lives on. It was only last summer when you had first met him in the field, set on fire by the strawberry harvest. You think about him now, peddling around that ridiculous wicker basket to make jam. Maybe talking to another pretty girl, someone as naive, cruel as you had been.

Not long ago, you considered calling him to apologize, but that'd just be another thing to be selfish about. A little time and some warm weather, and I’m calling to finally wash my hands of you. That's what it would sound like, no matter what you said. Still, it didn't stop you from thinking of him, every flower, every season.

"You know, I always wanted to grow peach trees. But I think we've always been a pear kind of family."

Mingyu. If a voice could cut through air, it'd be his.

You whip around, half-believing you're hearing things. Certainly that would be easier, but you're learning that there are some things you can't run from.

And like a picture, Mingyu stands tall, golden, framed by the peach blossoms. Not a thing about him has changed. Not even the way he looks at you.

"Mingyu," you breathe. Unfortunately, none of the times you replayed your last conversation with him help you come up with something to say, because in none of them did you anticipate him coming back. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I live here, silly."

"No way," you reply, scrambling. "Crazy, because I live here too."

You both laugh nervously, a silly, bubbly thing, but you feel like you're going to throw up. It's only now that you realize you're kind of on the walk to his place. Seogwipo has never had places to hide.

"I...um." You try and disentangle the guilt from the nostalgia from the scent of the peaches and the warmth on his face. They all look the same. You missed him. "I got into law school. In Daejeon."

"I heard," he says. "Not surprised at all. I always knew you would."

"Thank you. I mean it." The cicadas buzz around you, as if they know they have an important silence to fill. "You're staying in town, right?"

"Actually, I decided to apply to culinary school. It finally felt right, you know? I'm leaving at the end of the summer, but it's just in Jeju City. I couldn't leave the island."

"Thank goodness. I don't know if you could tell, but I kind of always hoped you would. I don't think I’ve ever eaten better food." Your voice wobbles, but it gets there. "You'll do amazing."

Then time stretches and forces you to recognize, reckon with, the moment you're in. You wonder if he feels the same way you do—bruised, overripe. If there's still a space in his heart for you.

Deep breath. Life only gives you so many chances.

"Mingyu, I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make us work. You deserved better." Saying it feels like peeling the skin of your heart back. There's still a palpable distance between the two of you—you think that had always been there—but it feels more comfortable in a way it never did before.

"Don’t apologize," he says, easily, as he always does. Everything seems to flow off him like water, and you think that's the part of him you loved the most because it was the one thing you couldn't touch. "We loved each other. I think that much was true."

A jasmine breeze curls through the trees, sending the blossoms fluttering around you like ink in water. The very first time you met Mingyu, you thought the image of him, haloed with the sunset, was the one you wanted to keep forever. And yet, somehow, you don't think you'll ever forget the way he looks right now.

"Will you ever come back to Seogwipo?" you ask.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing—you were always the one who wanted to get out of here." He grins, ear to ear. "Of course I'm coming back. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

The sea, the clay dirt, Mingyu. Even yourself, clumsy and care-worn. You think, somewhere along the line, you forgot how to love. But you're learning—one step at a time.

"Friends," you say. "Let's be friends. If you'll let me."

"Thought you would never ask. Gladly. Always." The space between you seizes, like it's holding in a breath. Maybe one day, you'll think of closing it once more, but you like where you stand now. You can admire him better from a distance, without your fingerprints all over him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, something he does before he gets ready to leave. But before he does—"I'll see you soon, okay? You better come back. Promise me."

For the first time, you see the honesty in his eyes and you really, truly believe him.

"Promise."

The Seogwipo sun is high and red in the sky when you wave Mingyu goodbye. It feels like you're coming to an end of a long summer, but you're not afraid. You watch the wind dance through the peach blossoms, their branches never searching, never wanting, and you finally feel as if you've arrived home.

#literally on my hands and knees begging for the tags to work #mine #mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu angst #seventeen angst #mingyu imagines

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lunaflowers · 6 months

Text

wedding night

pairing: byun baekhyun x virgin!reader word count: 2.3k genre: smut, fluff warnings: missionary sex, piv, cunnilingus, fingering synopsis: (requested) you're a nervous virgin on your wedding night. your husband, baekhyun, tries to make your first time as special as possible.

a/n: i'm not sure if this is good because the whole shy virgin thing isn't really my jam but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless, anon! 💖

☆*: .｡. o💘o .｡.:*☆

To say that you were nervous was an understatement. It was the night of your wedding and you were finally, finally going to lose your virginity to your new husband, Byun Baekhyun.

You’d known since you were young that you were going to wait until you got married. You weren’t particularly religious, but you were exceedingly, perhaps even foolishly, romantic, and you thought the idea of saving yourself for your eventual husband once you were legally and spiritually bound to him was a beautiful gesture of love and commitment.

Unfortunately, this made your dating life significantly more difficult. Men would cut and run as soon as you would reveal that you had no intention of having sex with them in the near future. They’d accuse you of being frigid or a tease. More than one had accused you of being a lesbian.

When you’d met Baekhyun and he’d asked you on a date almost two years ago now, you’d expected the same treatment from him but you were pleasantly surprised. When you’d told Baekhyun about your choice, he was curious instead of annoyed or judgemental and he asked you questions about why you felt the way you did. It was so refreshing, finally, a man who didn’t treat you like a freak, who accepted your decision as a valid one.

It was strange to think now how at that time you had no idea that you’d met the man you were going to lose it to. Being with him now, in your wedding dress while he stood in front of you in your shared hotel room, all you could feel was your heart pounding.

“Are you okay?” Baekhyun asked, his warm eyes meeting yours.

“I am,” you replied, “Just a little nervous.”

“Don’t be. You’re beautiful,” Baekhyun said, taking you in his arms and kissing you deeply. The two of you had kissed plenty of times before, obviously, but this one felt different. The slight hesitancy he’d had before was gone. You felt something more animalistic in him this time, not having to toe an imaginary line in the sand anymore. He reached around the back of your dress, finding your zipper and unzipping it slowly, letting your strapless gown fall to the floor.

He leaned back to look at your body. You were now in front of him in nothing but the white bridal lingerie you’d bought for this occasion. You’d picked out the lacy set with your best friend, wondering if it was a bit cheesy, if Baekhyun would even find it sexy. The way he looked at you with eyes that wanted to devour you assured you that you’d made the right decision. He kissed you again, lifting you up bridal style and taking you over to the bed, placing you on it gently.

You looked at him as he untied his bowtie and began to unbutton his shirt and take it off. You could feel the heat between your legs already. As nervous as you were, you couldn’t help but be distracted by the fact that your husband was incredibly fucking hot.

Baekhyun got on top of you, kissing you again. “Do you know how hard it’s been these past couple years? Not being able to tear your fucking clothes off? Not being able to touch you like this?” He moved down, kissing your throat and between your breasts, just nuzzling his face there and breathing for a moment. “But I just fell so hard for you. I knew you were worth it.”

You giggled as rested his face on your chest. It felt so comforting but erotic at the same time. “Thank you for waiting,” you said, a little shyly. You hadn’t done this before, you didn’t know the things to say, the sexy things, the naughty things, the dirty words you’re sure the women Baekhyun had been with before you had no trouble finding, no shame in saying.

“Thank you for choosing me,” Baekhyun replied, and you couldn’t help but grin. “Can I take this off?” He asked, gesturing at your bra.

You nodded, thinking that it was sweet of him to ask. You turned over to the side so he could unclasp it. When you laid back down, you instinctively covered your breasts. It felt so odd to be exposed like this. Baekhyun had seen you in bathing suits before, but he’d never seen you topless.

“Don’t hide yourself from me baby,” he said, gently removing your hands from your chest. “I’m your husband now.” He looked at you like he’d just unwrapped the most delicious treat. “I want to love every single part of you.” He dipped his head down and took one of your pert nipples in his mouth, making you moan. The sensation was new and odd but pleasurable nonetheless. As he did that, his hand worked itself down reaching into your panties, finding the wetness between your legs.

“All this for me? Aren’t you generous?” He said, letting go of your nipple and pulling his fingers out of your panties, showing you two glistening digits.

You felt a little embarrassed even though you knew it wasn’t Baekhyun’s intent to shame you. “Well, I’ve been waiting for almost two years. It’s been hard for me too.”

Baekhyun moved to pull your panties down and you let him. He slid them down your legs and off of you, taking in your body the whole time.

“I wanna kiss you here,” he said, spreading your legs apart and running a finger down your slit. “Are you okay with that?”

You nodded, a little embarrassed again, and he dove between your legs with his mouth. He teased your entrance with his tongue, keeping his movements slow and gentle, not wanting to overwhelm you. "How are you feeling?" he asked between kisses, his voice little more than a whisper. "Does this feel good?"

“It does… It tickles a little but in a good way,” you replied.

Baekhyun chuckled softly against your skin, his breath fanning over your sensitive flesh. "I'm glad, baby," he whispered, kissing and licking your cunt, his hands resting lightly on your hips to keep them in place. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he prepared himself before slowly pushing one finger inside you, exploring your depths with gentle strokes. He wanted this to be as comfortable and as painless as possible for you and he knew he needed to open up a little.

You moaned softly as he felt you tighten around him, your body responding to his touch. "You taste so good," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I can't wait to feel you around my cock."

You whimpered, “You’re so good at this, Baek.”

Hearing your compliment, Baekhyun's heart swelled with pride and desire. He continued to lap at your folds, his tongue dancing against your sensitive flesh while his finger was still inside you. "I’m a little out of practice," he replied with a soft laugh. "And I'm not done yet."

Slowly, he added another finger and began to thrust them in and out of you at a gentle pace, matching his movements with his tongue. He groaned as he felt you start to tighten around him again. "You feel so good. You’re responding to me so well," he whispered against your skin, his breath hot as he continued to pleasure you. "I can't believe how lucky I am to be here with you."

You smiled, biting your lip. “I’m the lucky one,” you said, in between moans. Your hips were bucking gently now and Baekhyun knew he was hitting the right spots.

His eyes closed as he tasted your sweet arousal, his body shuddering with pleasure. "Fuck," he groaned. He was hard and his hips jerked forward on the mattress reflexively. He would cum his pants if he wasn’t careful. "You taste amazing." He said, kissing your clit once more before pulling his fingers out of you and kissing his way up your stomach, his tongue tracing the lines of your ribs. "You're so perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I can't wait to make love to you."

“I want it, Baekhyun. I want you inside me, please,” you said, breathlessly. You felt like your desire was overwhelming you and you couldn’t wait any longer for him to be inside you.

"As you wish, my love," your husband replied, his voice soothing. He unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out, positioning himself between your legs, his hard length rubbing against your entrance. As much as you wanted this, wanted him, you felt yourself stiffen in nervous anticipation.

Baekhyun, noticing this, leaned down and kissed you softly on the lips, his hand stroking your cheek. "Relax, okay?" he whispered, "And let me take care of you. I love you.”

You breathed deep and nodded for him to continue. Slowly, he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, waiting there a moment before he pushed inside, inch by slow inch. He groaned as he felt you stretch around him. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle and concerned. "Tell me if it hurts."

“It does hurt a little,” you admitted, trying to relax your body more. “But it’s not bad.”

Baekhyun paused, his eyes searching yours for signs of discomfort. "I'm sorry, baby," he said, his voice full of regret. "We don't have to do this if it hurts too much." He pulled back slightly, giving you a moment to adjust.

“No, I don’t want you to stop, please. It feels good too… Please…” you whined.

Baekhyun pressed forward again, this time going even slower until he was all the way inside you. He kissed your neck and nibbled lightly on your earlobe, murmuring soothing words to distract you from the sting. "You're doing so well," he praised you, "I'm so proud of you."

You whimpered a little and although he felt bad that he was hurting you, he also knew how much you wanted this. He could feel it in the way your body responded to him. And honestly, he wanted you just as bad. He felt you relaxing slowly and he smiled, rewarding you with more kisses on your face, making you laugh.

He groaned as he felt your walls clenching on his cock. "That's it, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "You're so tight and wet for me." He began to move slowly, his hips rocking back and forth in a rhythmic motion.

He kissed your neck and shoulders, trailing soft kisses on your body. "Tell me if I'm hurting you," he murmured, "And I'll stop." But truthfully, he knew you wouldn't ask him to stop. He could feel the way you were arching into his touch, the way your nails dug into his skin. He smiled against your body, feeling the familiar rush of desire course through his veins. "You're mine," he whispered into your ear, "Completely and utterly mine. Only mine."

“Only yours,” you murmured back, breathlessly.

Hearing your words, Baekhyun felt an odd surge of possessive satisfaction course through him. He liked the idea that he was the one and only man you were ever going to have. And that you were the only woman he’d ever have again. "You belong to me now," he said, his voice becoming rough with desire. "Say it again."

“I’m only yours, Baekhyunnie,” you repeated.

Baekhyun felt his cock twitch inside you at your words. He gritted his teeth, determined to make this last as long as possible. Not having sex in almost two years had definitely affected his ability to last. "Fuck," he groaned, "You feel so good."

He reached down and began to play with your clit, earning another drawn out moan from your pretty mouth. He continued working you with his fingers, finding the right rhythm for your body and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your climax.

“I think I’m gonna…” you breathed, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"Cum for me then, baby," he whispered, more than a little relieved, because he, too, was close and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold it off. "Show me how much you love me." He increased his pace now, feeling it was safe to do so, thrusting deeper and harder into your tight cunt.

“Baekhyun,” you mewled, feeling your orgasm rush over you. You’d had orgasms before, you weren’t that innocent, but this one was different. You felt this one in your entire body, to the tips of your toes, making them curl.

"That's it. Let go." His hips slammed into yours, driving him deeper still as he felt you tense and shudder around him. He felt you climax, your body writhing beneath him. "You're so sexy,” he said, continuing his pace. “Fuck," he groaned suddenly, "I'm cumming too." He pulled out of you, quickly, his cock erupting in a hot, thick stream across your stomach. "I'm sorry," he said. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to cum inside you and I was too far gone and I panicked and pulled out. I’ll get something to clean you up.” He made a move to get up.

“It’s okay,” you said, pulling your husband close. You’d forgotten to tell him you were on the pill now, but it didn’t matter. “Stay with me.”

Baekhyun did as he was told, laying down beside you and wrapping his arms around you. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” you said, honestly. It had been such a long day. “But happy.”

“I’m glad. Did you… enjoy that?” Baekhyun asked, a little awkwardly.

“It was perfect. It was the best I could’ve asked for.”

“Good,” Baekhyun said, kissing you on the lips. “Now try to get some sleep. It’s the beginning of our life together, my darling wife.”

☆*: .｡. o💘o .｡.:*☆

#baekhyun x reader #byun baekhyun x reader #baekhyun smut #byun baekhyun smut #byun baekhyun #baekhyun #exo fanfic #exo baekhyun #exo byun baekhyun #exo smut #exo scenarios #exo imagines #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #exo x reader

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gummydummy19 · 4 months

Note

Hi Gummy!<3

You shared that awful experience and I imagine...

Captain Sy and his insubordinate younger brother. His brother (let's say, Jim?) flirted with you in a pub. You don't really spark and he seemed a bit too slick for your liking, but Jim is persistent and (gradually annoying). It was not long before Captain Sy came barging in and took his younger brother home (and surprise surprise, Jim isn't reaching his drinking age yet XD), which is how you met. Maybe you met him again a few days later in the same pub, maybe you worked on a project that involves the military (hence Sy)

And somehow one of the worst encounters you have had in your life turns out to be the one in which you met the love of your life :3

Just a lil thot :3

JDHDKHCB JAM WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE THE BEST IDEAS I absolutely freaking love this oml

How I met your mother

Content Warnings: fluff, swearing, unwanted flirting (from Sy's brother)

Word Count: 1.9k+

A/N: Since we're in the middle of the holidays, I decided to give this a little holiday twist :)) Imagine this as a throwback to how you met your hunky husband Sy... In the throwback Jim is 19, Sy is 27, and the reader is 23. In the present Sy is 42, reader is 38, Jim is 34.

Alright? All clear? Everyone good? Let's get this party started then

The entire family was gathered around your beautifully decorated dining table. It was well past midnight, and everyone was stuffed full of delicious food and the expensive wine you saved for special occasions. Sy had his hand resting on your thigh as you both listened to his dad share stories of when he was in the Navy.

"Fuck!" you heard your 13-year-old son yell from the couch behind you, waking up your 9-year-old daughter who was dozing off on her dad's lap.

"Jacob!" you snapped your head back at him, but the boy just rolled his eyes at you.

He was playing some new zombie-murder-call thievery videogame he had gotten for Christmas, courtesy of his uncle Jim.

"Don't you roll your eyes at your mother", Sy stepped in, "and watch your mouth, or that game is going on the shelf till summer."

"But dad!" he whined

"No buts!"

Now it was your turn to put your hand on your husband's thigh, giving him a sweet look to let him know you'd handle it.

"Jake, why don't you come sit with us for a little bit, hmm? Haven't you played long enough?"

"Oh come on, let the kid have some fun", Jim chimed in, earning an angry glare from his brother Sy.

"Yeah and who better to teach him that than his uncle Jim, right?" Sy spat.

"What's that supposed to mean?", Jim shot back.

"You know damn well what that means."

"Dad?" your little girl tugged on Sy's shirt.

"Yes, princess?"

"Don't you think Uncle Jim is fun?"

"Of course I do, Maya, it's just that Uncle Jim used to give us a whole lot of trouble, just like your brother gives us right now."

"Hey!" Jim and Jacob groan simultaneously.

"Oh, I think Jim caused quite some more trouble than our Jakey", you defended your son, who had finally sat down next to you at the table. You gave him a loving ruffle through his brown curls, remembering what Sy's hair used to look like before he started buzzing it off.

"Yeah well, give him a couple years", Jim joked.

"What kinda trouble did Uncle Jim get into?", your little girl chimed in again.

The three of you exchanged some looks before you finally spoke up. "Oh, I can think of a few things, but my favorite one is the story of how your father and I met", you smiled.

"Oh god", Jim groaned, "Can't you just tell them about the pranks I pulled in college or something?"

"No no", Sy chuckled, "I quite like this particular story".

"I love storytime!" your daughter yelled out excitedly.

"I'm kinda intrigued now too," Jake agreed, grinning at his uncle.

Sy's mother gave her husband a look as she sipped from her herb tea and you knew she loved this story too.

"It was 15 years ago", you started, "Me and my friends had just graduated college that summer. By wintertime, a couple of us had started working, or even gotten married, so we decided to catch up right before the holidays"

Flashback

"I can't believe it's almost been six whole months since we've all gotten together" your friend Sarah chided before taking a sip of her cosmo. “I know, I’ve missed you guys like crazy!” You said honestly. The five of you sat there and talked for what felt like hours, sipping on cosmo’s and sharing the juiciest stories from work or dating drama. It was like no time had passed at all.

“Alright girls, I’m gonna go get another refill anyone else need anything?”, you asked as you got up to walk towards the bar. The drinks were definitely starting to get to your head, but you didn’t care in the slightest. This was the most fun you’d had in weeks.

With a fuzzy head, you made your way over to the bar, still giggling at a joke your friend made 10 minutes ago. Leaning against the polished wood, you managed to catch the bartender's attention. "Um, two... wait, no, three more of these," you mumbled in your slightly tipsy state as you shoved your empty glass toward him.

You were patiently waiting for your drinks when a young, arrogant-looking guy slid up next to you, "Hey there! What are we drinking tonight?" he asked and you rolled your eyes.

"Just a couple drinks with my friends" you replied curtly, avoiding eye contact with him.

"Just you and your girls, huh? No boyfriend?"

"Nope."

"Are you looking for one?"

"Nope."

"Hmm I see, more a hit and run kinda gal, huh?" he smirked.

Damn, this guy was annoying.

"Look pal, I'm trying to have a good time with my girls, alright?" You finally turned to look at him. He sure wasn't ugly, but not your type. Besides, he looked a little on the young side you thought and you started to wonder if he should even be in here.

"That's alright baby, I'm all for good times", he stated with a proud grin, making you roll your eyes again.

The bartender slid over your drinks and grabbed them quickly "I'm not your 'baby', now if you will excuse me", you pushed passed him but his hand gently grabbed onto your waist.

"Oh come on, don't be like that...", if your hands hadn't been full you would have smacked him in the face for sure. You looked down at his hands on you and then straight into his eyes.

"You have about two seconds to get your hands off me before you get covered in Cosmo's and my knee introduces itself to your crotch."

"I just-" he started and you got ready to throw your 30 dollars worth of cocktails in his face.

"JIM!", a loud roar sounded through the bar, grabbing everyone's attention, including yours and the guy holding onto you.

He quickly dropped his hands and took a step back from you as the man who just entered stalked towards him. The entire movement made you drop your drinks, but you were too startled to care.

"L-logan....the hell are you doing here, man?", the boy stuttered and his whole demeanor changed in a split second.

"Me? What the fuck do you think you're doing here?!", you let your eyes roam over his body as he yelled out. He was clearly older than you. And definitely older than the arrogant guy. It was obvious that they knew each other. You wondered how. They seemed like two very different guys. The older one had a casual confidence whereas the younger one had made up arrogance.

You stayed frozen in place as you watched them yell at each other. The more you looked at their faces the more you started to notice similarities. The older one was bigger, with quite a bit more muscle to him, but they had the same strong jaw and nose, and their eyes were the same gorgeous shade of blue. Could they be...

"Miss, I'm really sorry for my brother."

"I uhm,...okay, that's okay", you mumbled.

The man gave you a friendly look before sticking his hand out.

"I'm Logan Syverson, but everyone calls me Sy. And that's my little brother Jimmy. I'm really sorry if he gave you any trouble, he's been acting out a bit lately."

You shook his hand without breaking eye contact. The second your skin made contact with his you felt your stomach drop...weird.

"Hey, I'm not a fucking kid!" Jim yelled out, earning an angry glare from Sy.

"Then maybe you should stop acting like one, Jimmy. You really think I wouldn't notice you taking my fucking bike? Huh?", Sy yelled, "You're taking the truck back home. Gimme my fucking keys back."

Reluctantly, Jim gave Sy the keys to his bike and Sy gave him the car keys in return.

"You didn't drink, did you?" Sy asked with a raised brow.

"No, Logan, I fucking didn't. Okay?!" he snapped before turning around and storming out. While you heard the car door slamming closed and the engine starting outside, Sy turned back to you.

"I'm really sorry about all that..." he scratched through his brown curls before his eye fell on the puddle of Cosmo's on the floor, "Oh christ, uh, here, please let me buy you a new round," he said, already pulling out his wallet.

"Oh no, no it's okay really, you don't have to", you assured him.

"No, I insist. I promise I won't stick around to bother you or anything, but just let me pay for them, please?"

Now how could you say no to that?

"Alright then, if you insist", you gave him a sweet smile.

The two of you walked to the bar and as you waited for your order, you couldn't help but give him a once-over. He was wearing a dark pair of jeans and a black shirt with some old writing on it. He was much taller than you, and big...very big. With a mind that was still half tipsy, you couldn't help the words that left your mouth next.

"You know...", you started, getting his attention, "I wouldn't mind if you did stick around for a bit...to bother me."

You swore Sy's eyes twinkled for a second as you looked up at him. Of course, he found you attractive. You were probably the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Scratch that. Not probably, definitely.

But still, the gentleman in him wanted to politely refuse, given your clouded state and what his brother made you endure already, but then your hand touched his arm and your eyes found his. "Please? I insist", you pleaded, and Sy caved. "Alright then, if you insist...", he was only a man after all, and he could only take so much.

Meanwhile, at the girl's table, everyone was far too drunk and caught up in whatever story they were telling to have noticed what just went down. But all the giggling came to a quick stop when a tall handsome man towered over them with four cosmopolitans in his hand.

"Ladies, this is Sy", you introduced him, holding three more drinks, "My savior of the night, and the buyer of our next round."

End flashback

"Aww, dad was her hero!", Maya yelled out.

"He still is", you smiled, leaning into Sy and pressing a kiss on his shoulder.

"Hold on. So, you tried to hit on mom?", Jake turned to his uncle, "That's gross, dude."

"Alright, okay, I remember that story a little differently", Jim spoke up, looking even grumpier than before.

"He was just a teenager", you defended your brother-in-law.

"I was almost twenty", Jim stated.

"Yeah, that doesn't exactly help your case, bud", Sy spoke up, wrapping his arm around you as you tried to stifle a giggle.

"So what happened after that?", Maya asked curiously.

"Well, your dad was too nervous to ask for my number, so I asked for his."

"Hey! I was just trying to be a gentleman", Sy defended argued, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

"Sure thing, hun", you grinned, "The week after we met up again in that same bar, and the rest is history."

"Is that bar still there?", Jacob asked.

"Actually, they turned it into a restaurant, but it's still called Mickey's."

"Hey, isn't that where...", your son started

"Where your dad proposed to me, yeah." you smiled fondly. "and we still go there every year on our anniversary..."

The end

Taglist;

@metalbuckaroo @princessayveke @montsepliego @scxrletrecsmarvel @hopelesslyrogers @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @tfandtws @vicmc624 @ahahafudge @enchantedbarnes @wickedravyn @pono-pura-vida @amayaraestyles @matchat3a @fictional-hooman @sebastianexplicit @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @jamneuromain @tryingtoliveonmywishes @mrsevans90 @daybreak96 @tiredqueen73 @fallingforunrealisticromance @identity2212 @randomweirdoss @ragamuffin285 @juliaorpll78 @geralts-yenn @imjusthereforliam @bangtanstoeart @squeezyvalkyrie @enchantedbytomandhenry @superduckmilkshake @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @missgaygurl @foxyjwls007 @mollymal @urmomsgirlfriend1 @luxeydior

#gummydummy19 #fluff #fanfiction #captain syverson #henry cavill #captain sy #captain syverson fic #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson imagine

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alittlebirb · 2 years

Text

Some incomprehensible choices of fate from the MCC 25 Pink Parrots!

Wilbur streaming from a warehouse loading bay. The acoustics in the loading bay are atrocious. He lives here now.

The skins! Socket eyes for everyone! They look adorable! (aside from Wilbur)

"Your accent is silly." -Wilbur to Scott, preceding a straight up 30 second long argument over how to pronounce "Grian"

"You are a ridiculous gentleman." -Wilbur

Connor joining to sports vet the players and make sure Scott isn't cheating

Wilbur proposing Connor bet money on him placing 40th

"Are you going to be weak to my shenanigans?" -Wilbur after Grian tells him he's "a tired boy", followed by ABSOLUTE GLEE when Grian elaborates that he might cross the threshold to "silly tired"

Scott asking if looking at Punz in a crop top would push him over the threshold, and Grian snapping back "I think that would wake me up."

"He's always right-back-ing, that guy." -Wilbur about Grian

Wilbur deciding not to vote because "you can't force fate", and Scott and Grian threateningly surrounding him with their vacant socket eyes

"The downfall of humanity happened when we decided we should be influenced by the things we create!" -Wilbur, going on an unhinged yet beautiful rant about THE SYSTEM and EGGS

"I'm going to be the healer, because I'm gay." -Scott

"That's not true! I play healer in WOW all the time, and I'm straight!" -Wilbur

"Wilbur, I'm sorry to break it you, but..." -Scott

"Battle Box makes me feel like I'm always being picked last on the dodgebolt team." -Wilbur

Wilbur SCREECHING "Jojosolos!" in the shrillest possible voice before being BODIED by her

Desertduo...fighting...this feels so wrong...

Grian killing Pete and wondering if he'll be proud of him

Wilbur talking about DND and Grian mentioning how he played once, and was never invited back

Wilbur then inviting him to play with him and Scott, completely undeterred with the warning that he's an "absolute menace"

"I can't nap, I don't like naps." -Scott

"You've never had a good nap, then." -Phil

Wilbur having an internal crisis over having to fight his dear, beloved Ranboo

"Maybe I need to play MCC from liminal places more often!" -Wilbur

"There, by the grace of god, goes Grian!" -Wilbur

Wilbur talking about how he used to have. just Grian. as his skin

WEIRD DUNK.

Wilbur walking up to Scott, and very seriously asking if he's ever played Club Penguin

"You just want to be Mr. Beast in Minecraft." -Phil

"I want to be Mr. Rock Hopper!" -Wilbur

Wilbur going between his Nook and Cranny in the MD waiting room

"I may have fell asleep." -Grian after the whole team got wiped 10 seconds in

Grian calling Wilbur's tones "dulcet", Wilbur buffering on the definition for a second, and then remembering he used that word in a song

Scott finishing 40th to Grian's 39th, and Grian considering "maybe he doesn't cheat..."

Phil singing a little song about following Scott as he follows Scott

"I'm sad, the sea's too cold to swim now." -Wilbur

Him and Phil arguing over whether he should wear a wetsuit instead

Them making plans to play Raft in real life, and Scott assisting by saying he'll release The Shark (Sharkie Evans) ((we love her))

"Ay Grian, are you awake?" -Wilbur

"Uh." -Grian

Scar's team being their downfall twice throughout the rounds

"I've had a club sandwich, and it's not sitting right." -Wilbur

Grian asking what a club sandwich is, and Wilbur delightedly explaining it to him

Grian NOT being sold on the idea that a club sandwich could be better than a jam sandwich

"This is Green's game. Scar's going to tell me later how proud he is." -Grian

Scott saying he counts his coins meticulously every night, and Grian adding he gives them a lil kiss and tucks them into bed

Grian and Wilbur lamenting over not getting the ~fabulous~ pride coin, with Grian talking about how he sometimes wake up "in a cold sweat" thinking about it

"The gays stay winning! We might have the same rights as everyone else, but we do have a SICK coin!" -Scott

Grian asking Phil to get high for him in GR, and both Phil and Wilbur being VERY down for that

Wilbur crying out that the chickens aren't beasts, they're friends!

The builders absolutely wrecking shop during the Beach Bridge room

Wilbur and Grian planning out his bedtime routine to kick in during the break

Wilbur and Scott arguing over whether it's cocky for him to say people will be sad when he dies, beginning a minutes-long discussion over the circumstances of his death

Wilbur dubbing Phil Team Captain ten seconds before SG starts

"Phil, you are H&M. You've just equipped me." -Wilbur

Phil having to shop around the map in order to find shoes his size

Wilbur proposing that they have an MCC where everyone's parents play, and Grian calling him out that he just wants to meet Grian's mother

Grian taking a nap during the break and leaving his chat in the fumbling? capable? hands of Wilbur

Wilbur becoming even more incomprehensible during this period, and Grian coming back with the most disappointed "I trusted you."

Wilbur trying to encourage free thinking in the chat after an era of Dream and Tommy supremacy

Wilbur desperately attempting to shoo off the swarm of fans that joined during AR because "the bit is over, man!"

Wilbur just. continuing this fight with his chat over AR the entire way through

"I can't let Tim beat me." -Grian

Grian frustratedly saying he's angy tired now, and Wilbur going into an excruciating bit of baby talking through a scenario of giving Grian milk, comfort, and NOT rice cakes (that'll keep him up all night)

Wilbur telling Grian to talk as rapidly as he could in order to enter silly mode, allowing us to learn that Grian's favorite animal is the seal and his least favorite color is Wilbur's shirt

"Me when. Don't ask me about the antithesis of yeah." -Wilbur when he dies in HITW

Scott and Wilbur talking about "intimate stories" they talked about in private

"Grian and I's DMs are not filled with explicit material." -Wilbur (why)

"That you know of." -GRIAN??????

Phil swearing during the last round and Grian saying that he racked up 2 so far (he's been keeping tabs)

Scott and Wilbur talking about "smooth" and "crunchy" colors

Wilbur going on ANOTHER rant about the nature of the universe, and how they are the universe-, and Grian just defeaning

Phil's chat continuously in agony over Wilbur "Wilburing"

"It's when you wave your hands like you're explaining something, but sped up." -Phil

"I think I might come dead last this time. Sleep's important guys." -Grian during TGTTOS

Wilbur and Phil discovering that the chicken is a drone in the decision dome map

Wilbur getting one half of a Swear Point for saying "Fu-!"

Phil ranting desperately in justification over his decision to punch Scar off

"It's punch or be punched in this world!" -Phil

Allll the betrayal during the Shallow Lava map

Wilbur sharing a story about how one time, when he was a kid, a teacher said he was "too creative"

The ABSOLUTE SIN of PKT being chosen over SOT. Someone will pay for this.

Grian and Phil going into a horrendous bit about Wilbur peeing all over the warehouse in order to assert his dominance over his territory

"Did I wash my hands? No I didn't. No I didn't chat." -Wilbur

The ongoing theme of LET FATE DECIDE continuing in their decision to let the game choose the hunter in PKT

Phil screaming in increasingly high decibels as he narrowly escapes death over and over again

Wilbur patenting the Phil Claws™

Grian now owing Wilbur a non-tired game, as he once fell asleep during his Wilburing

Wilbur saying he can take a nap during DB, there's nothing keeping him here, and Grian hitting him with the cute curveball of "you're here! :D"

Wilbur's chat spamming "hot guy" and him confusedly asking about it

"Scar's a hot guy." -Grian

Grian asking Wilbur to commentate this like a golf game, and him obliging in his own Wilbur way

Lizzie and Scott actively cheering against Joel

Things getting UNHINGED. THERE'S A KEYBOARD SALESMAN NOW?? WHAT???

GREEN WINS! THE TRUE ENDING!!

Wilbur and Scott fighting over whether he gets McDonald's

Pink Parrots finished MCC 25 in 10th place!

#mcc #mcc 25 #wilbur soot #philza #grian #smajor1995 #birb's mcc recaps #us socket duo enjoyers were EATING WELL TODAY #the philza and grian and scott interactions were also excellent #I cannot stress enough how downright chaotic they got near the end there #Hope everyone had a great MCC though!#I am aware that Wilbur was not in a loading bay. I do however think it's very funny to act like he really committed to the bit that hard #(all Wilbur soot does is eat sponge cake and lie)

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hiding-in-my-blanket-fort · 7 months

Text

I'm feeling in a feisty mood tonight so I'm foisting my sub Captain John Price x domme F!Reader headcanons on you. If that's not your jam, don't read below the cut!

Minors, away with you.

TW: NSFW. D/s elements, orgasm denial, light bondage, light impact play, unprotected PiV (wrap it up!).

Masterlist | Part Two

Listen. John carries a lot of responsibility on his broad shoulders and he really struggles to shut his brain off. He definitely doesn't show his submissive side to just anyone.

So, it's going to take a lot of time and a lot of trust before you gradually get him to open up and relax.

Having said that, John isn't opposed to being submissive. He's not accustomed to being in that position, but he's not averse to the idea. In fact, he likes the way your face lights up with confidence when you're the one in charge.

It's no secret that John is a big dude. Muscular. Strong as an ox. No matter your body type - slim, curvy, tall, short - he knows he COULD overpower you, but the fact that he's willing to surrender that power into your capable hands is a HUGE turn on for him (and you!)

You really made progress one day when you were in the bath and John came home from a mission, exhausted, bruised, and filthy. He took one look at the you - his love, the light of his life smiling so sweetly at him - and practically crumpled to his knees.

When you held out your arms, he stripped off his clothes as quickly as possible and melted into your embrace.

You washed the grime from his body, brushing sweet, soft kisses along his clean skin. As you wash his hair, massaging his scalp, he gives this deep, low sound of contentment in the back of his throat and slides deeper into the water, leaning against you.

With the slightest tug on his hair, you pull his head to the side and expose his neck, trailing kisses, tonguing at his pulse. With your other hand, you glide your palm down his chest, wrapping around his half-hard cock.

John is putty in your hands as you stroke him, his eyes closed, letting you lavish him with attention and pleasure. Under normal circumstances, he would have had you pressed up against the wall, his cock buried inside you within minutes.

But this time, you hold him, sucking at the thin skin of his neck, murmuring softly in his ear how happy you are to have him home, how strong he is for you, what a good man he is and he deserves this.

After that, something new seems to open up between the two of you.

When you're getting ready for bed, John has a book paperwork spread across his lap, a frown beginning to form between his eyebrows. You know that look - concentration and the burden of duty weighing down his mind.

So you forego putting on your pajamas and you push the paperwork aside. When John tries to protest, you silence him with a kiss and straddle him. He chuckles mingled with a small noise of surprise when you pin his wrists above his head.

"Is that the way we're going to play tonight, love?"

"You'll have to find out, Captain."

When he hooks an arm around your waist and sits up - his go-to move to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress - you push him back down with a hand on his chest.

"No. Stay."

His eyebrows shoot up but oh...the look in his eyes.

Lust. Hot, blazing, molten lava levels of lust.

"That sounds like an order, sweetheart," he replies, his hands skimming up your legs, curving over your hips.

You take his hands by the wrists again and slowly, pointedly, pin them above his head again, holding his gaze the whole time.

"It is," you counter. "You better obey. I wouldn't want you to be...punished...for disobeying orders."

He breathes a faint laugh and flexes his arms a few inches off the mattress - just to remind you that even though you have him pinned, it doesn't mean a damn thing. He could easily turn the tables on you if he wanted to.

But what he wants is to see you like this.

Confident. Bold. Sexy. Telling him what to do and taking your pleasure from him that he is so willing to give.

You grasp John's chin and look into his eyes.

"Are you going to be good for me?" you whisper.

John's hands tighten into fists. Just for a moment. Then you see the shift that comes over him as he very slowly relaxes into the mattress. After what feels like the longest moment on planet earth, he gives the slightest nod.

You beam at him. "Excellent choice, Captain."

After using one of his ties to bind his wrists to the headboard, you proceed to kiss down his body, paying extra attention to places where he sucks in a breath or shifts - a dead giveaway that he's ticklish, or particularly sensitive in that area.

By the time you're at his hips, his sweatpants are tented from his cock. His chest is heaving, his eyes lidded as he gazes down at you. While you hook your fingers into the waistband of his pants, you look up at him, watching the way his breath hitches and his lips part.

Lowering his sweatpants, you give a pleased little smile and bite your lip.

"Look at you, Captain. So eager and leaking for me but I haven't even touched you yet."

With your gaze on his, you lower the tip of your tongue to the head of his cock. As soon as you make contact, John's entire body tenses. The tie strains at his wrists. He arches his hips upward, trying desperately to get more friction from your mouth.

You laugh so sweetly at him and pull your tongue away.

"Sit still. No squirming. If you don't behave, no orgasms for you tonight."

John groans and tilts his head back with a muttered fuck very softly under his breath.

When you tongue his cock again, it takes EVERY ounce of his strength for John to sit still like you told him to. The way his breathing grows shallow suggests he's having a difficult time not giving the orders around here.

You tease him with your mouth, your fingers, your tongue, your teeth until a thin sheen of sweat covers his body.

That crease between his eyebrows, laden with duty and responsibility, is definitely gone now. The tendons in his neck are straining though and judging by the muscles bulging in his arms, you're honestly surprised the headboard is still in tact.

You scrape your teeth over John's hip until he flinches with a small strangled what the fuck?

"I think you deserve your reward now, don't you?"

John opens his mouth to reply but only a puff of air comes out. You rise up on your knees, hovering over him, lining his cock up at your entrance.

His gaze is locked on that space between your thighs where his cock is an inch away from touching. He can feel the heat radiating from your body but goddamn it, you're not moving and it's driving him crazy.

"Honey," he just barely manages to rasp with frustration.

"Come on, John. You're a gentleman, aren't you? And a gentleman always asks permission before he fucks a lady."

"Jesus," he croaks, shifting his gaze toward the ceiling.

You're enjoying this...far too much. You've never seen John quite like this - strung out and straining and barely capable of putting together a coherent sentence.

You swipe the tip of his cock through your folds.

John just about loses his damn mind. His whole body clenches.

"Say the word and I'm yours," you croon sweetly, as if you haven't absolutely wrecked John with your teasing for the past forty minutes.

He lets out a choked laugh of disbelief because you are usually the one who's begging in bed with him. Not the other way around.

So, just to remind him who's in charge, you slot his cock just inside your entrance. If he tries to thrust up into you, all you do is shift away and he can't get inside. It's maddening.

Then... "Love...please..." he says through gritted teeth.

You smile and touch his cheek, dragging your thumb over his lips. And you sink down, oh so slowly, onto his length.

The guttural sound he makes is deep and gravelly and my god, you've never heard anything sound so good in your life.

See part two for more!

#cod #imagines #cod imagines #captain john price x reader #captain john price imagines #john price imagines #john price x reader #writing tag #fics

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copperbadge · 1 year

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Mr Sam, I've never thought about freezing dairy before. In particular I thought you COULDN'T freeze milk and yogurt. Could you talk about your freeze / defrost process and how the thawed product compares to original? This could change my shopping habits so thanks in advance.

In my experience, you can freeze almost any dairy product except sour cream, which for some reason does Not Cope Well with being frozen. Also some cheeses, but that varies. Full report below! :D

Regular yogurt can be frozen and is actually extremely delicious when eaten straight from freezing, I love the texture it develops. Greek yogurt freezes well too, though it needs to be stirred after defrosting. Both taste roughly the same after being thawed, as long as they weren't in the freezer for long enough to get freezer burn (like, over a year).

Milk can be frozen, or at least skim and 1% can; I only ever drink skim, but I recently had to buy 1% because there was no skim to be had, and it froze just as well; it looked a little gross when frozen but when thawed and shaken up it was fine. Butter, buttermilk, and cream can all be frozen, although cream gets a bit weird and thick so you either need to shake it up with a bit of normal milk, or only use it in baking (as I do -- I don't use it for coffee, for example).

Cheese can be frozen but it has the most textural issues when thawed. Harder cheese tends to break up into chunks, becoming brittle and difficult to slice, though it still melts well and tastes fine. Shredded cheese freezes very well, though if you have say a pound of it, it's best to break it up into smaller packages first, so that you can thaw out what you want without having to set the whole thing out. I've also had luck with freezing brie and other soft cheeses, but effect varies. The flavor does not appear to me to change after freezing.

I have admittedly never frozen kefir because I don't like it and don't keep it, but I think kefir probably shouldn't be, because it's fizzy.

Eggs, as long as we're in the sphere of dairy, can also be frozen, but need a little more care. You need to either crack them into oiled muffin tins and freeze individually, or beat the white and yolk together and freeze (I do this, and they turn BRIGHT ORANGE when frozen, this is normal). If you beat them together you can freeze multiple eggs in one container, so like I'll beat together four eggs and freeze, then thaw for epic scrambled eggs or for use in baking (by weight).

The freeze-thaw process is pretty simple for most. Yogurt and greek yogurt can go into the freezer in the containers they come in; I usually buy one of the bigger packages of greek yogurt, split it among 2-3 tupperware, and freeze it that way, and I've also frozen it in a ziplock bag in a pinch. Thaw in the fridge or on the counter if you're careless like me. Give a stir before eating.

Butter (and also cream cheese) can be put into the fridge in the packet you buy it in; if you're freezing a large portion of butter that isn't already split into sticks, it's probably wise to divide it up and freeze it in plastic wrap or tupperware. To defrost, thaw in fridge or on counter. This works for salted and unsalted. You can also place the butter on a sheet of plastic wrap, put another sheet over the top, and smoosh it out into a thin pancake before freezing; it thaws much faster that way.

Milk can be frozen in the packaging it comes in but it's generally not a great idea because you also have to thaw it all at once, and milk thaws very slowly. I usually just try to buy small amounts of milk, but lately you can only get skim in gallons, so I buy a gallon, pour it into a series of jars (I'm short on tupperware and well-stocked with jam jars) and put them in the freezer. With any liquid, you want to fill the jars/tupperware only about 3/4 of the way full and put the caps on LOOSELY until the milk is frozen; a tight cap will trap the air and when the liquid expands, it can crack the glass or plastic. You can tighten the lid once it’s frozen. Thaw on the counter or in the fridge, or microwave it; often I'll set the milk out to thaw and every two hours or so pour off what's been thawed into a new container in the fridge.

As mentioned, cheese gets brittle; if I'm freezing cheese I tend to shred it first because that'll be the end result anyway :D

I think that's everything, but if you have a question about dairy that I didn't mention, I'm happy to answer!

#food #sam cooks #food preservation #freezing #dairy

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rustonyourfingers · 3 months

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I officially lost it, cattonquick invaded my brain, send help (pls don't, I want them to live in my brain forever tee hee).

Sooo, that Oliver tried to kill himself in the maze instead of Felix fic? Absolutely yes, in the works, hopefully, the first chapter will come out this weekend (sorry for the delay, I'm a very slow writer nowadays).

But I already planned out other cattonquick fics, bc focusing on one is too hard, so here are other ideas I'm currently working on! Bc I really, really, really need to share them with someone, or I will lose my mind, I swear.

1. Oxford days, Felix pov – For the first time, instead of hanging out in Felix's room, they're in Oliver's. They're supposed to be studying, but Felix being Felix decides to snoop around instead. Oliver is clearly bothered by that - tries to tell Felix they should study, he should stop, really, they need this essay finished by friday, but when Felix notices that Ollie is simply nervous, he gets even more curious. And here it is - hidden on the highest shelf of the wardrobe, something that is unmistakably a dildo. And isn't that interesting - Oliver is blushing and can't face him; so ofc Felix takes it out and pushes. Teases Oliver, until he's so red, Felix is concerned he'll implode. But the irony is, his first thought isn't even that Ollie likes to take it up the ass, no - but when he realizes that that's why Oliver was so embarrassed, the thought finds home in his mind and stays.

And now Felix can't stop thinking about it: Oliver on his bed, ass up, pumping the dildo in and out, with a blissed out expression. In that vision Oliver moans a name: Felix, Felix, Felix, over and over, and over again, and that's weird, because Felix isn't gay. He's not homophobic, and if Oliver is gay, that's fine, but he is not. Definitely.

So he puts the dildo back where it was hidden and decides to never tease Oliver about it ever again.

But of course that's not the end of it. Bc here Felix is, having the time of his life during some sort of a party, dancing with Ollie, laughing with him as they always do, when the chosen girl for the night not only tells him she's not intrested, she also suggests he should go back to his boyfriend and flirt with him, instead of taking time of some random girls when it is clear nothing will come out of it.

But Ollie is not his boyfriend, how could she even think that! So ofc now he's horny and frustrated, bc his plans for the night just got wrecked; he drinks instead and gets back to his room with his arm around Ollie.

And behind closed doors, the thoughts of Ollie, on his knees, come back. Felix is horny and confused, and Ollie looks especially pretty that night, and in his drunken state sleeping with him seems like a wonderful idea. And they do. And then they actually sleep. And then in the morning Felix is back to panicking and repeating that he is straight, this didn't mean anything, he'll get right back to fucking girls, thank you very much.

And the rest of the fic is these two idiots figuring their shit out. Bc drama and misunderstandings are my jam.

2. Jealous Felix - I think we all agree that scene between Farleigh and Oliver was very hot, but what if, what if Felix catches Oliver sneaking out and later leaving Farleigh's room? What if he spent the whole evening watching the two of them, laying on that couch together, heads so close they were almost kissing? And he's furious, even more so than when he thought Oliver was after Venetia - bc why Farleigh, when Felix was right there?

So yes, he watched Oliver all night and yes, he followed him, when he heard the door to his room open. And yes, he waited for him to leave Farleigh's room and was moments from barging in there and stopping whatever it was that was happening.

And now Oliver needs to explain - and Felix needs to claim what's his, bc if Oliver ever thought he belonged to anyone else, he was dead wrong.

3. A classic Oliver didn't lie fic - bc I need Felix to be the one groveling and apologizing more than I need air. The absolute tragedy of him confronting the poor not in stories, but in real life: of seing all that ruination, all the dirt, and pain, and vomit covering the streets. Smelling the piss, seeing people going through trash. Realizing, for the first time, that this is what Oliver's life looked like before he came to Oxford. This is what he woke up to, every day for as long as he could remember.

Just chef's kiss! My angst loving heart craves it more than anything.

So, that's it for now! I have more ideas lurking in the depths of my mind, but I'm trying not to indulge them. For now. ;)

#cattonquick #fic ideas #saltburn #saltburn spoilers #just thinking about these two #what else is new #i need someone to come kick me in the ass #bc writing all of these is taking way too long #send help #oliver x felix #felix catton #oliver quick

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deadpool15 · 6 months

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My girl

Watching her sit there and dance now, that was amazing. I mean, I love to see my girl dance, especially since I know it took her a lot of courage to battle someone like Kristen. She was known in the dance world, and when she went up their you could see it in everyone's eyes. Curiosity yet excitement, though no one wished to take one that level themselves, so when she stood up and looked at us, I knew at that moment I would be happy no matter what. Bada was always cheering us on throughout the entire competition she was on our side. Even when I told her I had a thing for her little sister Yaya. She was our youngest member on the BEBE crew, and now everyone saw the skill and wanted her to join, but she didn't. "You're an amazing dancer, Yaya, and you would be a great addition to the crew. When have I ever been wrong about something like this," we watched Bada sit there trying to compromise with her younger sister, who before today we had no idea she had. "You're my big sister. You're supposed to say that. Can you imagine what it will be like. At times like this, I'm grateful we don't look alike, I'll be known as the downgrade Lee sister."

After some time, we managed to get her on the crew, even getting her to become my girlfriend with the help of her older sister, of course. Getting her listening to the comments of our crew was tough, like we knew that everyone was gonna put on a facade for the show but like wow they were either very good at it or just shit talking for fun. Then, when we heard the comments about Yaya, all hell broke loose.

Biggy- So it seems we have more then a two international teams?

Nob- But she is on team BEBE, so probably just another one of Bada's lost cause of a student.

Redlic- Yes, I remember her she took one of my classes before she isn't the best. It was actually sad to watch.

Redy- She is Bada's younger sister, I remember seeing her when she was a lot younger during our Cupcakes era.

Halo- I would hate to be her. Imagine living in someone's shadow your entire life.

I looked over and was pissed how dare they say that about my fucking girl. She is more talented than any of these wannabes. "That's bullshit and they know it," we were all shocked by Badas' words. Never had she been so ill tempted to swear on camera. We sat down comforting Yaya. She has always been the sensitive type. "Hey, bubbs, don't listen to even of them, ok? You have more talent in your left thumb than they have in their entire bodies." I tell her, smiling while grabbing her body to bring her closer to me. The rest of the team starts nodding their heads, agreeing with me. Everyone else comes down with LADYBOUNCE glaring at us like we were supposed to be scared or gi e a shit.

Back to where we were, the dance battle with Kristen was normal, giving us your average thrill and suspense until it started getting sexual. Now I know how people think when they see Yaya, shit I think like that when I see her. Kristen was giving her the bedroom eyes, my fucking girl. Everyone was sealed once Yaya gained a burst of confidence and decided to throw her ass back against Kristen. Now, any other time one would say a great battler plays along with thie opponents, dancing with them to throw them off their game, it's something I've learned in freestyle. Now, when I see people do it, I praise them for having good battle techniques, but as soon as Kristen started angling her hips to catch some ass I was done. The battle was over. Well, there was, and it seemed like my mine had just begun.

Before I knew it Kristen started becoming closer, I mean Jam Republic as a whole was cool and buddies with us but none of them shared such a distinct interest in a short, ebony beautiful young lady that happened to me my fucking girl. Getting her number to hand out was cool, I'm not overly possessive, so I was fine with that. Going shopping and eating together was ok, but clubbing was just a fucking no no. This leads us to this moment. "Baby, I love you so much, ok. And I trust you wholeheartedly. But you're not going to club with Kristen." I say while holding her waist, causing her smile to drop and back up from me. "Why, not?" I truly do love my baby, but she was so oblivious that sometimes anyone could see that girl wanted her except of course herself. "Baby, she has been trying to get with you for months, and I know she is your friend, and you see her as one, but she definitely wants fuck you ok. Anyone can see it. Especially in that dress I mean I would wanna fuck you too." She smiled for a moment before remembering the situation and there it goes the argument had begin.

"You have always had some time against her from day one when she is just trying to be nice. She is my friend, and I don't say shit about any of your friends that you have out with when you wanna go dance and drink." I was sitting on the bed staring at her. She looked so beautiful in that dress, but it left nothing to the imagination. Her ass was literally hanging out, and it was hard to focus on the right things. "First of all, watch your mouth. You know I don't like the swearing, and second I don't exactly have anything against Kristen, I'm pretty sure she is a nice person when she isn't trying to get into other people's girlfriends pants baby," she rolls her eyes at me before sucking her teeth and then going to the bathroom. "OK, I'm being patient with your baby, and I completely understand you're upset. You got all pretty, and you can't go out, so how about we go do something, huh? Go on a date." I tell her to try to ease the attitude she is having now before I blow up on her. "First of all, fuck you. I'm not going anywhere with you, and second, I'm a grown ass woman. I can swear when I want to, especially when my girlfriend feels like being annoying, ok?" I clenched my jaw before yanking her towards me and shoving her on the bed. "Can't be fucking nice to you can I? You wanna go out and be pretty for your little friend ok. Let's make you look all pretty for her."

And that's how we ended up in this position, with her face down ass up as I shoved my strap into her back to back. I had pressed the record button on my phone a while ago, getting the idea of sending Kristen a little message to make shit clear. "Aww, come on, baby, your camera shy now. You usually love the camera. Love sha-aking your ass on people and all that stuff, don't you. Look at the fucking camera little girl." She glazes up through her lashes, looking so fucking ruined. Just how I like her. Eyes rolling to the back of her head after coming for the fourth time tonight. "Tired baby?" She moans out voice only able to produce moans at this point, she was all fucked out. But I had a point to prove. "How about you tell our little friend here who you belong to, baby?" I smirk, watching her start to scratch the pillows up again, gasping for her. Pushing into her slowly now while rubbing clit. Pussy all swollen, and dripping from the previous times she came. "Can you do it, baby, since you are so grown. Remember that?"

She started whining for me to go faster until I looked to up and seeing Kristen texted her. "Would you look at that baby, your little admirer misses you. I wonder where you are and why you're so busy." I make sure to thrust faster after each word. Her cries can be heard all the way outside the room. "S-soo.... s-sorry....pls." I smile at that, "Are you baby. Ready to be my little obedient girl again, aren't you. Just tell me who you belong to." She tries to hide in my neck away from the camera before yelling out. "M-Minah... Belong to Minah. All yours." I push myself up while grabbing her hips to thrust faster and play with her beautiful tits. I lean over, kissing her cheek before shoving my tongue in her mouth. "That's right, baby, my girl." By the time I was done with her, she forgot all about her plans with Kristen, we lay in bed cuddling while watching a movie, then I looked at the phone and sent the video to her, gotta make sure she understands. "All mine."

(Request by @itstherenaissance)

#street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #minah lee #team bebe #mina lee x reader

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persage · 1 year

Text

A little less awful - Shane Walsh

Summary: When Shane comes close to losing you, he realizes that just the idea scares him more than he thought. But things aren't easy, not with a man like him.

(Post S2) Shane Walsh x Reader

Usually I only write about Steve Harrington, but this time I wanted to try something different. I know Shane isn't the good guy, I know he's not that loved too, but he's given me a great inspiration to write (and then every once in a while my love for morally gray characters takes over) so here's this little work because i admit, it's my fault, but i wish I could see more of Shane. Also my man Jon Bernthal deserves everything.

Words: 3k

It's a rustle in the middle of the meadow, broken branches and trampled dry leaves. The noise of quick footsteps and heavy breathing approaching. A thud, a moan and then footsteps again. You run fast in the direction of an abandoned house and behind you a horde of walkers is chasing you, so many that this time you can't help but think it's over. Really over.

You've been scared many times since this hell started devastating the whole world, your life and erasing what you've known. You were scared when you saw your father transform, your friends die - by the walkers or equally monstrous men - but you have never feared for your life like you are doing now. It's just that things have been going well for a while, far too long, and you felt like you could manage to live in peace here. You were obviously wrong.

You have only one thought in mind. It's the face of a man, his strong features, short hair that is growing back, eyes darker than the night, so full of demons that only you know how to keep at bay. If you don't reach the cottage soon the walkers will make you their meal and no, you don't want to die. For you. For him. He'll never admit it openly, he's not a man of big demonstrations, but you know you're the one holding him together, that if you die he falls apart.

Also you don't want to die before hearing those words leave his lips. You don't want to die before you know that there is still some hope in the world, some kind of love. Above all you don't want to die to feed these damned monsters.

Out of breath you let go in a cry of frustration, while you feel your legs getting weaker the only thing that drives you is the adrenaline. With one last desperate shot you reach the house and he's here, rifle in hand, ready as always.

"Shane!" you scream. You have never been so happy to see him in your life.

"Go inside, hurry!" he replies as bullets whiz through the air, impacting what remains of the walkers rotting skulls. You mentally thank the fortuitous coincidence that made you find an armory on your path weeks ago, there was nothing left but an old silencer hidden in a corner. Your little miracle. You see Shane drop his stoic mask for a moment when he runs out of bullets, or maybe it's the rifle jamming, you don't know, you don't understand and you don't have time to do it, you grab the hunting knife placed on the chair behind you, in the small veranda of the house. With a small jerk, ignoring his protests, you move away to stab one of the two remaining walkers in the head, splashing all the blood around. Shane is immediately at your side, ready to kill the other with his dagger. Then, making sure they're all dead, he turns around and, with his back to you, walks towards the house.Your home. You silently observe the tortured dead bodies. You wonder if one day you'll find a familiar face among them, you wonder if anyone will find yours, if they will ever have compassion.

You don't have any, you can't. Shane taught you that you don't have to have any to survive.

"Shane" you began by breaking the silence as soon as you reach him, leaning against the wall for support. You're so tired you just want to fall to the ground, but you can't. You don't want to be weak, not in front of him. He 's always so strong, ready, invincible.

Sometimes you wonder if he's even human.

When you found him wounded in a field months ago, none of your old group gave him a chance of survival, no one wanted to take him with you except for you and Arnold, a former war doctor. Arnold was good and if it wasn't for him Shane would be dead. It was your job to take care of him. He was unconscious and in the throes of a delirious fever and you dragged him along with a makeshift stretcher made of wood and rags for a day and a half without respite before finding a place to let him recover. The other members of the group left you with him and you didn't object, because people who leave behind a wounded but alive man - in a world where being alive is a privilege - will do the same with you.

Shane woke up 3 days later. It took him weeks to recover. He never told you what happened to him, he only said he deserved it. You didn't believe him, cause in the end you wanted him to be a good man. You wanted to know saving his life was worth it. Then you hit the road again, Arnold died and you two were left alone. You've become each other's only comfort, even though Shane Walsh is a difficult comfort, a difficult man that you sometimes feel you don't know. know nothing about. It's Ironic since he the only thing you have left in the world.

With the bloody knife still in hand he walks towards you. He's not threatening you, he wouldn't hurt you and you know it, that's why you stay still. "Y/n fuck! why do you always mess up? You're not able for once to....Keep quiet, not go wandering around almost getting caught by those bloody walkers. No cause there's always fucking Shane to save you ass" He yells. You look into his eyes for a few seconds.

"You could have left me there"

You reply without a single emotion in you voice, moving away from him without looking back. You know Shane is trying to grab your wrist, you know he stops before doing it. He looks at his arm outstretched towards you, the muscles, the hand shaking with anger and fear. He dropps the knife from his other hand and brought a hand to the back of his neck like he always does, then let it slide over his face and when you are gone, hiding in the only room of the house, he let himself slide to the floor, caught in the realization that this time he could have really lost you. That it can happend at any moment and it's not that he hasn't thought about it before but this is time... It was so close. So real. He feels something acid rise in his throat, a knot, a block of cement. He would like to throw up.

He wasn't there to protect you, like always.

Like he has never protected anyone, because Shane isn't able, because Rick has always been the one able to defend his people. He misses him, his brother.

He also misses Carl. And Lori.

They were family, the one he wanted to protect, the one he destroyed without apology or justification.

You screwed up, Walsh.

He looks at the closed door of the bedroom and Shane wonders if he's destroying you too. Since the moment he opehas opened his eyes and saw you cleaning his wounds he has decided he wanted to be better. he still does, he wants to try to find himself - the man he was before all this, who ran to the hospital to save his best friend, the policeman Shane Walsh - but a good person doesn't treat their loved ones like he treats you.

A good person doesn't hurt someone he cared about like he is hurting you, like he is ruining you with his only presence here. A good person wouldn't stay in this house so long. No, he should have followed the original plan: find you a safe place, with other good people because there must be someone like this in the world. Maybe Rick. He should have find him leave you with him and you would be safer.

He will do it.

Then he will go away forever, so as not to stain yourself with his darkness, with his madness. Because Shane has now discovered a beast in himself and is afraid that the time will come when he will not be able to contain it again. Truth is that every day he repeats himself that you will leave the next one and it never happens and every day the idea of letting you is harder to accept cause he is just an selfish peace of shit.

When evening falls, you barricade yourself in the house and light the fire in what is left of the fireplace, in silence, with brusque gestures that reveal nervousness. Shane kicks out a couple of squirrels and starts quietly skinning them with his knife, like Daryl taught him to do a while back. He throws you one without even looking at you and you sit cross-legged around the hearth, to roast what little meat you can get. You lack real food.

You're hungry and you're tired and you want to cry, but you don't.

Shane would think you're crying for him and it's not like that, really.

You don't care about his reaction, you don't care about his outburst and you don't care that he doesn't talk to you, that he doesn't trust you and that he keeps his distance when you just want human contact. It doesn't matter that he touches your hands and then builds walls between you, that he kisses your neck at night or holds you in your sleep like you are the most precious thing on earth without ever taking an extra step towards you. You don't care about these things, they can't matter when you're experiencing the end of the world, right?

You eat looking down, obviously hungry. Shane instead looks at you chewing slowly. Once finished he leans on his elbows, he sighs watching the fire dance in front of him, then you again, illuminated by the orange light of the flames.

You are pretty. No, you are beautiful.

Shane knows it, he's always known it, but now it's like having an apparition in front of his eyes. You're perfect even now, tired to the point of exhaustion, with dirty hai and badly tied hair while eating a squirrel. You're beautiful and you're the only thing he has. His angel, his savior. And he has no right to desire you, to have you by his side. He has no right to look at you like that. You lift your head crossing his gaze with arched eyebrows

"What are you looking at?"

"I'm sorry I yelled at you." he replies unexpectedly. You throw away the remaining bones and clean your fingers as best you can, trying to have a semblance of elegance under his watchful eye. You hug your knees, sinking your face into them. Shane tilts his head, trying to catch your expression. He knows you're on edge and he's terrified of seeing you cry in front of him again, he's not good at that sort of thing anymore. Once, oh, once he was very good but now, now he's afraid of always making mistakes and he prefers not to try for fear of hurting you more. He doesn't want to hurt you, he can't bear the thought of letting anyone else down. He would rather die. And he hates that you have met him now, that you will never know a world where he was just Deputy Shane Walsh, and not Shane Walsh the survivor who tried to kill his best friend, the one who was sleeping with his wife, the one who wanted his family, the leader no one wanted, the hero no one recognized.

Shane Walsh, the villain from someone else's story.

"I'm sorry I made you angry." he adds, with a strange softness in his voice.

It hits you. Usually he would have just waited for your anger to subside and everything would have returned to normal, but something inside him changed and he couldn't say when. Stupid lonely man, stupid weak heart.

"It doesn't matter."You reply. You've almost resigned yourself to always seeming the weakest, it was like this even before, with your group and it's like this now. You want so much to look strong for a moment and show Shane how much potential you have, but after getting chased by a horde of walkers for trying to hunt something for him you think you've lost all hope. A cold shiver runs down your back and you unconsciously try to warm your arm with one hand

"I was a fool." You continue letting out a little sad laugh. You approach the fire with disjointed and awkward movements and he smiles without realizing it, finding your awkwardness terribly cute. He has seen you run miles of tree-lined paths, jump and scramble for survival with extreme ease and then you get stuck at the simplest things. It's sweet. Shane always says your problem is that you your head too much "And you don't use it at all"

He shakes his head, gets up and goes away. You, lost in thought, stare at the fire without wondering where he is going. When he comes back a few minutes later he has a blanket in his hands and sits next to you draping it over your shoulders.

"Thank you..." you whisper. "You must have thought I'm weak." Shane shakes his head again in disagreement

"No." he answers. You nod, holding back tears and rest your head on his shoulder slowly, for fear of a rejection that won't come. Before he can even feel your weight against his body, Shane is already hugging you, squeezing you affectionately. The truth is that he cares about you, he is afraid of losing you because he knows that if he loses you, he loses everything. His purpose is to keep you alive, to find a better place for you. Today he got scared but he never thought of you as weak, after all if you really from walkers, you would have been one of them. The only thought makes him shiver. You don't deserve such a terrible end.

You raise your head with slightly shining eyes and just smile tenderly. "Even if you treat me badly sometimes, I know you're a good person, deep down." you say. Shane looks you in the eye. His gaze is veiled in night yet sparkle with a new light that you have rarely seen in him and that you recognize immediately.

Affection. Devotion. Lust.

Shane wonders how he can hold on, how he can keep you away when you're the only thing keeping him grounded, wonders how he's done it so far because now that you're so close, with your soft skin ready to be kissed, he understands incredibly difficult. He Imagines the sensation of your warm skin under his big hands, the way your nails could dig into his back, the way your little hands would grip his shoulders, the softness of your voice becoming a moan softly begging his name.

He looks away, he'd better never have such thoughts. He couldn't think of you like that, you're... You're still good, still uncorrupted by the new world, still willing to believe there's something good in the world and he doesn't want to screw it up. But you don't care about this, about what he did, what he could do. You care that despite believing himself evil and dangerous, Shane Walsh has always protected you.

He has kept you alive. He has caressed you, with his fingers barely touching you, while the world tried to suffocate you. And you want more now, you want to discover all that Shane Walsh can be and give, you want to discover what it's like to be a part of him. He turns his head towards you again and it's the anticipation of something, the trepidation of a moment, you shiver under his warm and slow touch. His fingertips brush your ears as he brushes the hair away from your face.

"Are you still cold?" He asks. His voice is hoarse, broken. This strong and intrepid man you've seen defeating monsters, now he almost seems to be afraid of you. You grab his hand, he lets himself be guided as you bring it to your lips and kiss his fingertips.

"Y/n" he whispers.

"Don't say we can't, don't say that," you mutter.

"I can't... I don't" You shake your head.

"But do you want, Shane?" He can't deny it, he swallows letting his gaze run between your eyes and your lips, so damn close to his fingers that he feels your warm breath tickling him. "I don't want to hurt you"

You smile. "Let me" You begin "Let me prove to you that you can't hurt me Shane." he remains motionless, closes his eyes, a gesture of surrender as you approach and place a kiss on his cheek, long, then one closer to his lips. You hear him sigh as he grabs you by your hips with his big hand, squeezing the fabric of your sweatshirt.

"Shane" You whisper, moving towards his neck, leaving moist kisses in the way drawn by his veins, you can feel his heart beating and you think that today this is all that matters.

Warm flesh, beating hearts.

You and him.

Shane decides that right now he needs nothing more than to stay here. With you maybe the world will seem a little less awful.

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