#I tend to fall off on media most of the time so...

[sunlit-mess]

you are criminally underrated. *holds out hands like a sad victorian child* any tips for a young artist? :)

im a very. tired. artist.

To aspiring artists, I'm not sure what 'tips' or advice I can give that were not already said by another. However, I'll remind you anyway.

"There's no secret to art... just begin and keep going. That's all we can do."

Always set your pace, and take your time learning. Art is something that isn't rushed, rather it grows through experience. Think of it like exp points or something, the more you gain, the more you know and skills acquired. It doesn't mean you HAVE to abide by the principles or rules either, though it's best to know them. Knowledge comes in different ways and your method is yours to explore.

As for motivation, it's something you'd find attached to, a mission and values thing per se. Find your dedication, how will you strive, how much are you willing to pursue. What keeps you going? What WILL keep you determined?

We take criticism critically: Don't get your ego attached to every work, everyone has their own perspective. What I mean to say is to understand errors and find improvement. Be HONEST with yourself and your work. Nothing is ever wrong in art, hell- even the most fucked-up ones can look so beautiful and meaningful.

In social media or sharing artworks, it's cool to show them to your friends or relevant platforms your craft would be in, just gotta learn the long process of algorithm somehow... It's a pain, but never lose confidence! Believe in yourself. Even the tiniest of work, effort is counted as special. Because it's from you!

Lastly, enjoy what you do! Have fun once in a while, and best that you find fun all the time in your crafts! You create for a cause and not just to please. Art shouldn't be a cause to break you, rather it builds you.

I hope this message is enough? ::)

I've been drawing since I was young, now as an adult- my art is meh compared to other artists out there, but I still try my best to keep my mark around.

So much has happened in my life and I'm still VERY lost, especially in a path as an 'Artist'. Though, I fell off in art, burned out, and relapsed more than I can count,

nothing or no one can kill the part of me that just wants the world to see that I can still... Create.

[eraserbread]

Pleaseeeee, I'm begging you.... I need to know how Nanami react when his wife finally tell him she's pregnant and his not crazy this whole time.

click 4 context :)

nanami swears he's never seen you eat deep-fried... anything. it wasn't that you weren't keen; it just never fell into your lap. whenever you two ate outside of home, you found yourself walking hand-in-hand through the doors of your favorite hole-in-the-wall ramen shop.

but, tonight, you begged him. nearly cried with a jutted lip for something you never had, but doom-scrolled past on social media.

now you're sitting in front of him, back straight as an arrow as you uncharacteristically shovel steaming-hot slices of gyukatsu between your glossed lips.

he watches you hardly, flicking his eyes every few moments to catch the way your lips shake, or how you do that stupid little happy dance when you get the perfect bite. he's tending to his curried rice, eating slowly—your exact opposite. he smiles to himself, letting the table remain quiet with your content hums until you bite your tongue and whine out.

"slow down, my love." he speaks after swallowing his bite, leaning back. he can see the slight flush heading across your familiar neck as you react to his buttery voice.

"i'm so sorry. how impolite of me."

"well, i don't care much. just don't want you to burn or... bite yourself further." he nodding towards the sizzling hot stone just in your reach—a dangerous pairing with your eagerness.

flushed under fluttering gold lighting, kento swears you're beaming just a bit stronger. there's a tint to your cheeks that isn't usually there, a gleam that didn't exist until a month ago. he furrows his eyebrows.

"don't stare!"

"thank you for indulging me tonight." you smile as he bends at the knee to remove your shoes at your doorway. you're leaning a hand on the frame, body and mind full of wagyu and kento. "I know you've had a long day at work."

"long day or not, when you tell me you want something..." he pauses, grunting as he stands. "I listen. always. well, most likely."

you giggle, reaching up to hold the back of his neck. the small buzz of his undercut feels fuzzy and familiar—like home. "you're a good husband."

you don't notice, but kento does. the small lisp you give him in speech—he knows it's from your bruised tongue—he hums. "does it hurt a lot? your poor tongue?"

shaking your head, you're smiling. "no... yes... a little bit."

"may I see?" he's so close to you that his words bounce off of your lips like smog—so salty and warm. you nod immediately, always letting him in. "open up."

you're giggling again. "yes, sir." then you keep them parted, dropping your jaw so he can see inside of your warm mouth. you can hear his breathing in the closeness, the drag of his voice against his vocal cords as he inspects.

it's when he presses his finger against the side of your tongue, does it hit you. a debilitating, familiar wave of dizziness. then, you're weak and dipping, knees falling.

right before kento catches you with a single-arm hold on your back, he doesn't make a sound, but the look on his face is terrified. "nanami? are you okay? can you stand?"

it takes you a moment to focus, but his words make it easier. you shake your head, gently. "must've been the exertion."

"why don't you go sit? i'll bring you something, would you like tea?"

"i would love it. thank you."

so, he trusts your balance, but he lets you go like he's nervous. it's only to walk to the couch, but it seems as if you just can't catch your footing. then, you stall and lean to the side—he rushes you, sweeping you up in a cradle.

"no. straight to bed."

"i'm sorry." you whine, burying your head in the pillow when he places you on the mattress.

"i'm calling the doctor now. i've never seen you like this." he's keeping his promise in his perfect timing, scrolling through his contact list with a shaking head. you're staring up at him in horror, heart hammering in your chest, because you don't need a doctor. you know what's wrong.

"n-no, please don't... it's so late."

"doctors take call just like i do." then, he finds it, and just before his thumb presses that shiny green 'call now' button, you're stuffing your face into the pillow, letting it muffle your breathing.

"i'm pregnant." you whine into the fluff, hands twisted tight in the material. you hope he can't hear you, but it's far too late to take it back.

"hm?" kento heard you. crystal fucking clear. but, he's doing that unsure little eyebrow cock, thumb shaking as it hovers over his phone. "what?" he repeats.

"p-pregnant... i'm pregnant." it feels like lava pouring from your soul, so white-hot and shameful, because you've been hiding it for well over two months.

he scoffs, putting his phone down and burying his forehead in his big hand. there's a smirk there—very slight. you don't see it. "ah, well... yes, I suppose that explains it... all."

"please don't be mad at me, it's your fault."

"mine? how?"

"if you just..." you're still talking into the pillow, letting it do the heavy lifting. "you're always on top of me; it's like I can't keep you away."

kento laughs again, it's the most joyless sound that sparks so much within you. he nods, then sits down right next to you, smoothing a hand over the swell of your hips. "if it were possible to choose, i'd like to die on top of you—or inside of you."

"not funny." you're on the verge of tears, feeling the hormonal angst hit you like a ton of bricks.

kento clicks his teeth, then pushes your shoulder to get your flushed face free. "I wasn't trying to be... look, I am not mad-the direct opposite, actually." he's whispering, tracing that hand over your face. you're so warm, so free, now. "I am so happy. relieved that it wasn't something else, too."

"but i'm so scared."

"that's okay. so am i... both happy and scared and relieved; in love with you, your ways, and your spirit." that hand trails back down your side, then it rests right over your lower stomach, thumb rubbing across the covered skin. "and this little one we created together." when he presses, he can feel the firmness that wasn't usually there. "I don't think we will be very good at first, but i'd like it very much if we taught each other how to be the gentlest parents possible."

now, you're crying. it's falling in waves and buckets, snotting up your pillow and eliciting embarrassing sounds from your throat. you're kicking your feet, so built up and unsure where to expel it. "whyyyy," you sob, reaching to twist your smaller fist in his shirt. "why would you say that to me? I'm gonna explode—it's so-

"what are you talking about?" he cuts you off, cradling your clenched fist to his chest. he really just wants to wipe those tears away and make love, but he's kind of... afraid. you'll probably bite him just like your tongue.

"when you talk to me like that... it's so... i can feel it."

"hm... do you think our baby can feel it? i wonder if she can hear us."

"she? i feel like it's a boy."

"no." he whispers, shaking his head, and so sweetly purrs, "definitely a girl."

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

And it’s coming over you like its all a big mistake

[ryukatters]

swipe right — k. bakugo x fem! reader

✮ a/n: i remember seeing a post on here a long time ago about a character making a fake tinder profile for their gf and realizing how many people want her. (if someone knows the OG post please lmk so i can link it!) so now i present to you: bakugo falling to his knees in the middle of your apartment bedroom for the exact same reason.

✮ content/warnings: dubcon, quirkless/college! au, jealousy, possessiveness, breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, cum eating, cunnilingus, overstimulation, praise, biting, bkg gets a little rough with you, and bkg's also a fucking simp but when do I ever write him as being otherwise??

✮ summary: your boyfriend decides to make a fake tinder profile for you just to see how many matches you get. he comes to a realization just how many other people want what’s already his.

✮ word count: 4.2k (i'm so sick)

Bakugo can remember how this all started. In very vivid detail, actually. He remembers because Kaminari had pissed him off so much to the extent that it took him a very substantial amount of effort to refrain from bashing his friend’s face in.

It all started during the last monthly hangout amongst Bakugo and his friends— one day out of the month designated to make sure that they all had time to catch up with one another despite their busy schedules.

Everything was normal, with all of them getting more than enough of their fill of food and alcohol while idly playing video games and talking about random topics to fill in the silence in Kaminari’s living room. 

Perfectly normal, until Denki decided to open his stupid mouth, at least. 

He goes off on a tangent about a trend he saw on social media where someone makes a fake Tinder profile for their partner to see how many matches they’d get. He proceeds to tell Bakugo that he should try doing it, for “funsies,”— to which Bakugo scoffs at. 

“Aren’t you curious, Kacchan?” Kaminari smiles cheekily, wrapping an arm around his blond friend’s shoulders, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Bakugo’s becoming visibly more upset with every passing moment. 

“Your girlfriend is really pretty,” Mina chimes in, sticking her tongue out when Katsuki whips his head to glare at her. “I’m still surprised she’s with a grump like you.” 

Kaminari butts in, “I bet there’s a whole line of guys around the block just waiting for a chance to get with her. I mean, just look at her! Hell, I’d even let her peg m—”

For a moment, Bakugo swears he wants to bash Kaminari’s face into his flatscreen. And for a moment, he lets that impulsive thought win— getting up and grabbing two fistfuls of Denki’s shirt before promptly getting cut off by Kirishima.

“Alright alright,” Kirishima forcibly pries Bakugo off of the other blond, pushing him off to the side. “That’s enough, you two. Kaminari was just messing around. I’ll admit, it wasn’t a good joke, but no need to hurt the guy, okay Bakugo?” 

Kirishima knows that Kaminari wasn’t being that serious, but Kirishima can also admit that what he had to say held some ounce of truth. And Kirishima knows Bakugo well enough to see how your boyfriend tends to be rather skittish and protective with matters concerning you— which is exactly why Eijiro had to stop him before it was too late. He really didn’t feel like preparing for Denki’s funeral or helping hide Katsuki escape from a homicide charge.

And that was that…up until a few minutes ago.

Katsuki’s tried to forget that conversation. But try as he might, his mind betrays him and can’t help but wander back to what Denki said that night.

He trusts you of course, and has complete faith in your relationship. However, he’s curious to a fault, just about perhaps too curious for his own good. 

How badly could this end?

As it turns out, this whole scheme seems to be playing out very poorly. 

Dozens of photos of you— screenshotted from your social media accounts— fill Katsuki’s screen. He had to choose photos you uploaded yourself, because most of his photos of you were either too…suggestive or too domestic (and he wants to be the only one to see you in those moments).

He swipes through “your” profile one last time before clicking “done” to officially put you on the market. And just like that, Bakugo’s met with the faces of men who are nowhere near your level. He goes through the batch of profiles, scrutinizing each one he comes across. He’s (un)surprisingly selective with the ones he chooses to swipe right on— making sure that they’re at least somewhat conventionally attractive. To his surprise (or dread, rather), his phone pings right away with a notification from someone who swiped back. Another ping. A message. 

You free tonight? 

Bakugo scoffs. He looks through the guy’s profile— a picture of him at a party with his arms around some girls, another with him doing a victory pose presumably after hiking, and one with him holding a fish. He feels his mouth curl in disgust, about to give into the urge to reply and give this guy a piece of his mind, before he realizes he’s pretending to be you. He takes a deep breath, closes out of the app, and puts down his phone. 

He’s starting to regret this.

Bakugo’s phone has gone off 15 times in the last hour. Bakugo has also felt the need to strangle some stranger through the phone 15 times in the last hour. Your (read: his) profile has existed for less than 60 minutes, and you already have a whole address book of nobodies trying to link with you and get a quick fuck. 

He feels the familiar beginnings of a headache creeping up the back of his skull. He thinks he might need a drink. Why did he decide to do this again?

In hindsight, he probably should have known this is exactly how it was going to go down. 

What was that saying? Curiosity killed the cat?

Yeah.

He was never great at self-preservation in the first place. So this, the feeling of overwhelming jealousy, frustration, possessiveness brewing up a storm threatening to pour out of every single fiber of Bakugo’s being— was no surprise.

He watches as the numbers at the bottom of his screen increase steadily, before tapping on the star icon. 

‘99+ likes!’ it reads. Over 99 people who saw your profile and thought you were beautiful. Bakugo pales, and he can feel the cold sweat building on the nape of his neck. He grips his phone, knuckles turning white. Is he shaking from anger or nervousness?

Anger because all these guys think they even have the slightest chance with someone as amazing as you. Nervousness because what if you decide that they do? You wouldn’t actually leave him for one of these guys, right? Right?

None of these men would walk through hell and back for you. They don’t know how you like your coffee, the details of your skin care routine, how you like to binge watch shows and talk Katsuki’s ear off about them (not that he ever minded, of course). They don’t know you, not like he does. Katsuki looks at you like you hung the moon. In fact, he’s pretty convinced that you did. Everything good in his life— the warmth, the color, the joy,— is encompassed by you. He’d be damned if he lets some greasy little nobody take that from him. Because the moment Bakugo fell in love with you, you became a part of him— inextricably and indefinitely. Loving you has become so intrinsic to him, that even the mere thought of another person loving you or looking at you the same way he does has him going insane. Not that anyone could love you like he did, though. That thought brings him some comfort, but not for long. 

One last notification he sees sends him spiraling. Bakugo swears that he can see red. That’s when he deletes the app, and throws his poor phone in some random corner of the living room, which is markedly one of the smarter choices he’s made as of late. He marches to your bedroom with a fire burning in his chest. 

He stops short of the door and finds you sitting at the edge of your shared bed, fresh out of the shower. You’re applying lotion, and he watches the cream absorb into your skin wordlessly, in awe at how overwhelmingly beautiful you manage to look in the most prosaic of tasks. For a second, he almost forgets the reason he was upset in the first place.  

Your hair is still damp, water droplets accumulating at the tips, and Katsuki feels his mouth run dry the minute he watches a stray bead fall and make its way down your neck and stop perfectly in the dip of your collarbone. Your very existence is forever etched into his heart, every inch of you carved into his memory, but even still he can never get tired of looking at you. At every angle, in every lighting, he needs to see you in it. You could call him obsessed, but he’d simply laugh and agree, because what’s so wrong with that? Especially if it’s you. 

You’re one to be studied— to be adored, Katsuki thinks, to the greatest capacity. It’s what you deserve. And what better person for that task to fall upon than him?

He finds himself naturally gravitating towards you, his finger tracing the same exact path the water had carved just moments before, wordlessly. You try to pay no mind, but it’s difficult as you realize just how close Bakugo was and how your towel barely manages to cover up your most intimate parts. One wrong move and you’d be exposed. With how things were playing out, and the predatory glint in the blond’s eyes, you don’t think your boyfriend would be too perturbed with your current predicament. 

Katsuki presses a delicate kiss to your forehead before he crouches down. Suddenly, you’re at eye level with one another, his hot breath tickling your lips. You think for a moment he’s going to kiss you so you lean forward, lips waiting. But he merely grazes them before he sucks a deep bruise into the juncture of your neck, biting slightly. 

You’re barely given any time to react before he’s grabbing the hand that’s securing your towel and ripping it away, the offending garment falling off your body. Your flesh prickles with goosebumps as its exposed to the sudden chill.  It’s quickly replaced by the heat of Bakugo’s body as he pushes you lightly, your back hitting the mattress. He crawls on top of you, muscular thighs on either side of your hips, your head placed conveniently between his forearms. He’s trapped you, a nonverbal challenge for you to try and escape. 

You’re a work of art, he thinks, but much more valuable than any pièce de résistance framed in any museum. 

Beautiful, yes, but far too blank for his liking. He wants to ruin you, make you his own personal magnum opus. And so he does. 

He presses a clothed knee against your bare cunt, pressing firmly. His lips continue their assault on your neck, leaving angry purpling bruises in their wake. Rough hands find your breast, and you moan in surprise when he gives both of them a harsh squeeze as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. Katsuki kisses you like a man dying of thirst, hungry for everything you can offer him and more. It’s all too much already, the way he’s kissing you has your mind reeling, and you have to turn your head away for a moment to catch your breath. Katsuki thinks it’s a moment too long without you, so he coaxes you into locking lips with him once more. A wave of mischievousness washes over you, prompting you to take your boyfriend’s lower lip in between your teeth, biting down lightly. 

You feel his breath hitch, before he lets out a low groan as he grinds his clothed dick against your bare wetness. He returns the favor, sucking on your bottom lip before letting it go with a wet pop. He pulls back with a lazy smirk, his lips pursing together to scatter messy kisses down the base of your throat and down your chest, alternating between sucking and biting at the flesh. 

He gives you a good once-over, scanning every surface, committing them to memory. You feel the need to curl into yourself with how intensely those vermillion eyes are piercing into you, memorizing every single curve, scar, freckle like he’s done time and time again. 

He drops down to his knees, broad shoulders bullying their way in between your legs, forcibly prying them open. He grips your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh, and drags you down the mattress until your legs are dangling off the bed.

“Jesus, Kats, be more gentle.”

“Shhh. I know you like it when I’m not gentle,” he chuckles. As if to prove a point, he pulls you down even further, giving a harsh bite to your inner thigh. He smiles deviously when you yelp. You try to pull at his hair but his reflexes are too quick, pinning both of your wrists down on either side of you easily. “Besides, this is the perfect height for me to eat you out, dontcha think baby?” 

You want to chastise him for being so crass, so Katsuki, but the words die on the tip of your tongue the minute he gives a sweet, loving kiss to your clit, sucking lightly. 

“You’re mine. I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this except for me.” 

You’re not entirely sure what brought this on, but you find it hard to complain when Bakugo drags his tongue from your throbbing clit to inside your pussy, drinking everything you have to offer. 

Your hands automatically try to find purchase in his blond locks, struggling against the vice grip Katsuki has on your wrists. He decides to take pity on you, loosening his hold so you can slip your hands into his hair, moaning appreciatively when he feels you tug. He rewards you by flicking his tongue on your clit over and over again, just the way you like it. He does it until your moans begin to pitch higher and higher, the same way that they do when you’re close. He doesn’t stop his ministrations even after you cum, riding out your orgasm until your thighs are shaking from overstimulation. He pulls away from you with a loud pop, taking in the sight before him. 

He runs a hand up and down your thigh soothingly. “So fucked out already and we’re barely getting started, baby.”

Your mind is barely processing his words before you feel Katsuki’s erection brush against your stomach, his clothing haphazardly discarded on the floor. He taps the head of his dick against your clit to tease you, a feeling of satisfaction swelling when you cry out from under him.  

He watches in fascination as strings of your arousal cling to him. He positions his length at your entrance, locking eyes with you as you hold your breath in anticipation. Katsuki likes you like this. Needy for him. 

 “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that?” He slips into you with a stuttered groan. 

Katsuki’s always been big. You never get used to the initial stretch, no matter how many times you two fuck. Still, that doesn’t stop him from sliding in with ease from the slick of your last orgasm. It easily coats his cock as he gives a few experimental thrusts. He groans in rapture. How do you manage to feel so good every time? It’s enough to drive him insane. Perhaps he already is. 

“So fucking perfect, no wonder why all those losers want you.” He mutters out the last part, and you’re not sure if you caught that right. 

“What?” He chooses not to respond, and you aren’t given the opportunity to think any further before your legs are thrown over his shoulders, Katsuki’s weight effectively pinning you in place. The stretch knocks all the wind out of your lungs, and all you can do is cling to Katsuki, nails leaving red, angry lines on his well-defined back.

He wastes no time before he starts drilling into you, hips slotting in between your legs perfectly. The position has him pressed against your clit, and your entire body feels like it’s been set ablaze, with Katsuki holding both the power to have it burn even brighter and the ability to extinguish it. And you’re almost there, you can feel your soul slowly ascending, your room filled with hymns of pleasure, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter, threatening to unravel along with your sanity. Katsuki can feel it too— the way you’re squeezing him tighter, how your gasps and moans have climbed just a note higher, how absolutely ruined you look, how he’s responsible for your current state. Which is exactly why he wants to push it even further, he wants to see how much you’ll break for him— and only him. 

Katsuki cuts you off right before you can reach your peak, pulling out but making sure just his tip is inserted. You come to and take a look at your lover and marvel at the sight. He has a crazed look in his eyes. The way he smirks is absolutely wicked. 

You feel distraught— having been so close but having it ripped away from you. You give your boyfriend a petulant pout.

“Katsuki,” you whine, slapping a hand against his sweaty chest, “Why’d you stop? I was so close!”

“Because I didn’t want you to cum yet,” he says simply. “You’ll be good for me, yeah? I’ll give my baby what she deserves, as long as she’s good.” 

You roll your eyes, huffing. That won’t do for him.

As much as he loves seeing you indulge, he feels a need to punish you— at least a little bit to even begin to atone for being the wicked temptress you are. 

“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” Bakugo growls, gripping your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks, causing your lips to purse slightly. “I said be good, okay? Wanna take my time with you.” 

There’s a moment of respite, until you sigh in defeat, knowing better than to argue with him lest you wanted to dig your own grave. “‘Kay, ‘ki.”

He flashes you a smile. Obedient, just how he likes you. “Good girl.”

Katsuki draws his hips back, thrusting just enough to fuck his tip into you. He’s teasing. The amount of willpower on his end it takes not to cum is nauseating. 

“You’re so pretty, aren’t you?” he rasps, one hand finding their way around your neck, squeezing just enough to make your head spin. Your hands reflexively grab his wrist. 

All you can manage is a fucked out moan. Katsuki has to resist the urge to coo, about how he’s managed to turn you into a cockdrunk mess in such a short matter of time. The wave of possessiveness that’s been gnawing at the depths of his soul begins to seep out, and he’s reminded of the reason why the two of you are in this position in the first place. 

He gives your throat another squeeze and a rough slap to your clit. “C’mon princess, answer me. Say it.” He slowly adds more and more pressure until your ears grow hot and air feels like a precious commodity. 

“I-i’m pretty,” you manage to gasp out, tears spilling from your lash line as you begin to lose yourself between the space of pleasure and pain. 

Good. Always so pliant for him.

“That’s right, baby,” he concedes. “So fuckin’ beautiful.” He punctuates the last word with a deep thrust, right against that spongy spot that feels so good. You’re so sensitive that it’s enough to send you spiraling into your second orgasm, walls spasming around him uncontrollably. 

Katsuki stills, staving off his own release with all the restraint he can summon. He silently thanks whatever divine forces are out there that he didn’t cum the minute he felt the first clench of your orgasm. 

He grits his teeth as he wills himself to move, trying not to get lost in the wetness that envelops him. You’re babbling now, senseless moans filling Katsuki’s ears like a sweet melody. 

“Kats, please, I’m too sensitive—” You’re shaking now, muscles trembling with every thrust. 

“But I’m not done with you yet,” he says simply, drawing his hips back with a particularly rough thrust. You choke back whatever you were going to say with a loud cry. “What’s your color, baby?”

You take a moment to answer, brain trying to comprehend the words just uttered to you. You look at Katsuki firmly, “Green.”

“Atta girl,” he praises, the drive of his hips beginning to shallow. He’s close, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. But for you, he tries. “You’re mine, right?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, shivering as goosebumps dance across your skin. 

“Say it,” Katsuki pleads, thrusts growing sloppy by the second. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m all yours, ‘ki.” 

With that, Katsuki’s fate is sealed. He’s left groaning as a flash of pleasure shakes his very soul, filling you up with so much cum that it dribbles onto the mattress even while he’s still inside you. You follow suit, an embarrassingly obscene rhythm of squelching noises fill the silence as you spasm around his dick. He collapses on top of you, but he’s still coherent enough to not dump all his weight on you. 

Your labored breaths fill the room as the two of you come to. Katsuki pulls out of you with a wince, still a bit sensitive. He gives you a peck on the lips before he drags himself down, settling in between your legs much like he was earlier. 

You tense up, “Kats, wait—”

Any and all protests cease the moment Bakugo works his tongue inside of you, slurping lewdly as he drags out the mixture of your cum and his, swallowing. He tries not to stimulate your puffy clit in an attempt to be merciful, but you still feel yourself steadily climbing to what would be your fourth orgasm this session. While the past three have been intense and drowning, this one comes to you in waves, dull pleasure invading your senses as Katsuki continues to eat you out to clean you up. 

He pulls away when you finish, your slick and his saliva coating his chin before he wipes it off on the back of his hand. You stare at his half-hard erection with a half concerned, half quizzical look. “Do you…” you lick your lips, “need help with that? I’m a little sensitive down there  but I could use my mout—”

“Nah, I’m good babe,” he says earnestly, flashing you a smile that he only ever shows around you. “I’ll be back.” With that, your boyfriend leaves the room only to come back with a bottle of water. 

“Drink.” You comply, finishing half the bottle graciously before handing it to him. He downs the rest before he settles next to you on the bed, laying on his side. You mirror him, shifting your body so that you’re both facing each other. 

Katsuki reaches out, finger idly tracing random shapes and lines onto the bare skin on your hip. He has a pensive look on his face, one that he usually doesn’t hold after stolen moments like this; it’s an expression he wears when he’s in deep thought. 

“Baby,” you call out. His eyes snap to yours, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah?”

“Whatcha thinking about?” You watch as a hesitant look flashes across your boyfriend’s face before he shakes his head.

“S’nothin’. Just thinkin’ about us two.” He speaks lightly. It’s always been difficult for him to voice his inner thoughts and feelings, so he tends to beat around the bush. You’ve learned that if you ever want something out of him, you’d have to pry a little. Katsuki always indulges you though. 

“What about us?”

“Do you- do you think you’ll ever get tired of this?” He repeats himself, clearing his throat. The question is followed by a weaker, “...of me?”

You think it’s the most ridiculous question he’s ever asked, because the answer should be obvious. “I’d never get tired of you, Katsuki. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he replies automatically, “but if I ever do anything that upsets you, or if I get too much for you, or if I—” he’s rambling now. Yes, it’s difficult for Katsuki to talk about his feelings, but once you manage to get him to open up, all the walls of his self-made fortress come crashing down and it’s up to you to pick up the pieces. 

“Baby,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his lips, cupping his sharp jaw with one hand. “Look at me.” And he does— ruby eyes meeting yours. “I love you because you’re you. And I choose to be with you everyday. It’s not always gonna be perfect, no relationship is. But I know that I will always wake up and choose you.” 

You can see the anxiety melt away from Katsuki’s body, shoulders slumping as he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Love you too, sap,” is all he says before he’s pulling you against his chest, squeezing you into a bearhug. You two stay that way until both of you are lulled to sleep. 

You’re laying in bed with Katsuki, both of you dozing off when you hear a slight buzz from your phone on the nightstand. You squint as you try to read the notification, and make out that it’s from your friend.

Denki Kaminari: So did it work?

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing, giving a quick glance over your shoulder to check on your boyfriend— fast asleep. You turn back to your phone, your thumbs making quick work at your keyboard. 

You: Just like I said it would. Thanks Denki :)

Writing belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not share my work on Tiktok.

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations🧑‍🎄🎄🧑‍🎄

Credit goes to @astroismypassion

🎄 Scorpio in the 12th house, Mars in the 12th house and Aries over the 12th house natives often crave salty foods late in the evening.

🧑‍🎄 12th house also shows what you are like and like to do before bed or right before falling asleep.

Aries over the 12th house: getting into an argument right before going to bed, light work out, drinking a hot drink, you probably take extra care on your skin on your face especially

Taurus over the 12th house: eating before bed (especially sweets and fruits), preparing clothes for the next day, you probably have a very set bed time routine, drinking a cup of tea, putting on lip balm, listening to music

Gemini over the 12th house: journaling before bed, sending a message to your siblings, a close friend, scrolling on social media, reading a book or news, watching a documentary or news on TV, putting on hand cream, watering the plants, doodling, listening to a podcast

Cancer over the 12th house: spending time with your family members, especially mum, watching movies, eating something home cooked, looking through your photo album on your phone, drinking hot cocoa, warm bath or spending extra time in the shower, listening to music, texting your close friends/family members, using body lotion, drinking a glass of warm milk

Leo over the 12th house: spending time on your hobbies, interests, texting your crush, brushing your hair, warm bath before bed, listening to music

Virgo over the 12th house: reading before bed, reading the news, going through your planner, planning activities for the next day, journaling, gratitude journal, watering plants, doodling/drawing before bed, listening a podcast, stretching, yoga, watching animal videos

Libra over the 12th house: eating before bed (sweets, fruits), doing self-care (putting on a mask) or washing off make up, picking clothes for the next day, putting on night cream, putting on body lotion, putting on lip balm, drinking a cup of tea, colouring a colour book

Scorpio over the 12th house: light work out before bed, meditation, masturbation lol, drinking a hot drink, shaving, you like to be on your own in your room

Sagittarius over the 12th house: reading (but in a foreign language), watching a documentary, eating foreign food, putting on a sleep mask, using Duolingo and practising a language,

Capricorn over the 12th house: going through your planner for the next day, spending time with dad before bad, scrolling through social media, talking to your parents, drinking warm water with lemon, taking more time on your dental hygene

Aquarius over the 12th house: sending a good night message, stalking other people online lol, reading about astrology, guided meditation for sleep, putting on sock because you’re probably cold, charging your phone and other devices, spending time on your tablet

Pisces over the 12th house: watching a film directly in your bed, reading pick a card/tarot readings, watching anime, animated films or cartoons, conscious breathing exercises, guided meditation for sleep, putting on socks, yoga, stretching

🎄 You might not be as compatible as you think with other signs of the same modality as yours. So if you are a Cancer Sun, you might not get along so great, especially in partnerships, with Aries, Libra, Capricorn Sun, so other Cardinal signs. Same goes for Fixed signs, if you’re a Taurus Sun you could not get along that great with Aquarius, Leo, Scorpio Sun, since both might be too dominant and wanting to lead.

🧑‍🎄 When there is Moon conjunct Venus in Synastry, the Venus person tends to lead and the Moon person follows, because they let go off control due to feeling safe around Venus person.

🎄 I noticed the person most likely wanting to marry you has their personal planets (especially Sun) conjunct your Jupiter sign and not the other way around. So if you have Taurus Jupiter in your own Natal chart, Taurus Suns might most likely want to marry you, but it could also mean you might not necessarily want to marry them or see them as your ideal partner. If you have Aquarius Jupiter this doesn’t always mean you will want to marry an Aquarius Sun, but they might be the one wanting to marry you.

🧑‍🎄 You might consider someone your life partner or wanting to marry them if your Jupiter falls into their 1st house in Synastry. You might really see a future with them and this has potential for a long-term commitment.

��� Ex partners are most likely to describe you by your Moon sign after a break up. For example if you have Aries Moon in your Natal chart, your ex could describe you as “unsupportive”.

🧑‍🎄 When there is Sun conjunct Saturn in Synastry the connection could ver much feel “right person, wrong time”.

🎄 8th house shows your desires, 12th house your hopes, desires for the future, 11th house shows aspirations and Ascendant shows the pursuit of your innermost desires.

🧑‍🎄 People who have Moon conjunct Venus in their Natal chart often attract a romantic partner with Cancer Moon or Taurus over the 4th house.

🎄 Capricorn Rising might since childhood transform every hobby into a full-time career. For example, if they loved writing as a child or journaling, they might become an author as an adult.

🧑‍🎄 Cancer Suns really judge a person’s character based on what feeling the person gives them. So based on how they feel around you.

Credit goes to @astroismypassion

[jedisupernova]

falling for the mafia boss's son, kwon jiyong

notes minors dni contains fem reader, non idol au, always written with plus size reader in mind as i am myself but anyone can read, takes place in the late 90s (hence the mention of certain technology or media,) mentions of smoking and drinking, reader and jiyong are both twenty-four, very much slice of life and dialogue heavy, very cute and banter-filled meeting!, jiyong being a flirt (or my attempt at writing flirting,) jiyong and reader are down bad (a lot of banter, her parents are on the stricter side; he has to sneak in) reader and jiyong being silly, yearning, angst (miscommunication, mentions of his hardships, he wants to protect reader from his life but to a fault, arguments, he shows up injured one night and you tend to his wounds YUPPPP, mention of insecurities, reader lowkey needs new friends), smut (keeping quiet, dry humping, oral f receiving, sub!jiyong, p in v, reader gives jiyong a pair of her panties,) and inevitable typos.

requested? no, this is an original idea! its certainly is a 180 from the last jiyong fic i posted, but what is creativity without ambition! so here goes nothing! this is long. enjoy :)

the time on jiyong's watch read 9:13 pm, his eyes drifting to the summer night sky above. it was hot as fuck. the street lamp's fluorescent lighting flickered, making him blink increasingly harder, distracting him from properly inhaling the lit cigarette between his lips—unceremoniously landing a bead of sweat initially perspiring from his temple into his eye. "shit." his mutter disappeared into the commotion of whatever his friends were going back and forth over. last he checked, it was something about someone's car, or some movie, but the other side of his brain just processed technotronic coming from the house the party they were all invited to tonight was in. jiyong took his cigarette between his pointer and middle fingers, using his other hand to rub his bothered eye. neither of his friends took notice, enwrapped in conversation, taking drags of the cigarettes they bummed off jiyong after parking the car some ten minutes ago. a long, defeated breath deflated his chest. "hot as shit, bro—god damn." that earned him concurring nods, their gazes following him to the house peeking over the wooden fence behind them. jiyong wiped his forehead, kissing his teeth disapprovingly; the back of his hand glistened with sweat. he took one last drag of his cigarette, dropping it onto the sidewalk and putting it out with his sneaker. "place better have some fucking ac," he said, turning to his friends. "you ready to head in? alright, lets go."

to his joy, there was air conditioning! and not many people were in the house, so he could actually feel it! hallelujah! he sunk into the couch like it was nobody's business after making himself a drink, laying his head back, letting the rum and coke glide down his throat with a satisfied huff. he mouthed the few lyrics he knew to the music playing from the backyard, trailing into the house from the partially-open sliding door. jiyong's eyes opened at the sound of loud footsteps clambering down the stairs, catching glimpses of a friend group walking down the hall leading through the kitchen and into the backyard. he planned on joining whatever was going on out there later in the night—his friends did so immediately after getting their drinks—but for now, he minded his own. he liked parties, and went to most that he was invited to—unless his father had something to say about it, of course—but his social battery didn't sustain for long. he liked the quiet, or at least as quiet as it could get; settling with himself for the time being.

a while after finishing his drink, he went searching for a bathroom. the one on the first floor was occupied, so he headed upstairs; he's been here before, specifically the barbecue that happened a few weeks ago to usher in summertime. it felt humid upstairs with the window behind the landing wide open, laughter from below mixing in with the speaker sounding like it was on its last breath every time the bass kicked in. just as jiyong raised his knuckles to knock, the door swung open, catching him off guard but startling you entirely. "oh my god." you placed a hand over your heart, eyes closed. jiyong didn't know what to do in those passing couple seconds—his hand was still in the air. you smiled, amused at yourself. "didn't expect that," you muttered to yourself, opening your eyes. "my bad—here you go."

you stepped to the left to make room for him to enter and you exit, but he happened to step the same direction with similar intention. an upside down grin molded your face, hearing him awkwardly chuckle. "stay there." the sound of your warm giggle drizzled over his ears like honey, making him perk up and pay the fuck attention. jiyong's eyes followed you whilst you walked by his right. his feet moved before he knew it, his head looking away when you turned to look at him. in those three seconds, a whirlwind of thoughts ran through either of you. for jiyong, it was she's fine as hell; the image of you in your shirt and denim shorts lingering in his mind for as long as he wanted, topped by the sound of your clipped voice fading with each passing moment since he heard so little.

for you, it was the slight furrow of your eyebrows whilst you descended down the stairs: was that who she was talking about? you wondered—thinking back to the pregame at your friend's house earlier in the evening. rumors had floated around about ju . . . was it—no, its ji. jiyong? yeah, that���about jiyong's family, more-so his father, but no one ever had the gall to ask him. did they just not want to be caught in their own bluff, or afraid of unleashing a weapon-bearing fight if they properly dared mention it to him? no one knows, nor was willing to attempt. your city wasn't necessarily small, but it also wasn't large enough for anyone to fall through the cracks. you could pinpoint countless times throughout the years where you overheard speculations of his family's true source of income whilst in line at the local donut shop on sunday mornings, or his supposed home life becoming the topic of discussion at the sleepover once the clock hit two in the morning—but actually coming across him? perhaps a few times at the grocery store, fleetingly at parties, seeing him walking up the block with his friends, or in his car waiting for the traffic light to turn green—like any other neighbor.

you tsked to yourself, remembering something else from the pregame: "i heard he's been getting a lot of tattoos lately." a friend said after someone else brought up the rumor he'd be at the same party you were all going to, pouring the group shots—nothing was left in the house after scrounging the last few pours of cuervo tequila, so you all made due with the singular zima found in the fridge. you never liked the beer alternative, so on top of holding your miniature glass with a slight grimace, her baseless observation just deepened it: "you think that has anything to do with . . . you know . . . his family?" what did that have to do with anything? people have tattoos for whatever reasons . . . not to fit some aimless narrative. now that the anecdote came back, you do remember seeing a pair of detailed wings tattooed on the back of his neck—so he had to be the, for lack of a better term, infamous jiyong. unless there was someone else with the same name? you thought, until you realized how stupid you sounded. that was him, and that was it.

jiyong made his way outside, shouting over the music for his friends to hear him. it was relatively crowded. partygoers were dispersed all throughout the yard—some roasting s'mores by the small fire pit on the corner of the tiled pavement leading into the grass, others bickering over the party mixtape, and many either cheersing or throwing out their red solo cups for new ones. jiyong spotted you on the other side of the yard, talking to a friend whilst sat in the patio swing. his attention left his own friends, inner monologue drowning them out: move, motherfucker. that person must have heard him via some inter-dimensional force. though he couldn't overhear, your friend excused herself to get some snacks from the kitchen, leaving you temporarily on your own—but not if he had anything to say about it. he left his friends wordlessly mid conversation, making his way over. jiyong didn't think ahead much and acted more-so on autopilot, nearly stopping in his tracks when you looked up from your seat.

"did you wanna sit here?" the nicety slipped out before you could stop yourself, gesturing to the empty seat, halfway to standing on your feet. "i can move." "no, its okay." jiyong shook his head. it clicked for you: oh wow. its him, again. "i can—i'll just. . ." jiyong cut himself off by sitting down. it took a moment for you to process what was happening. "oh," an upside down grin tugged at your mouth. "alright." you sat down, inadvertently copying the direction of his gaze watching the party before you, lingering in one another's peripheries. your friend returned outside, equipped with a small plastic bowl of mini pretzels and potato chips, nearly dropping it upon seeing who took her spot. she scurried to the other side of the yard as fast as her flip flops would let her, grabbing the shoulder of whomever in your friend group that was in her nearest reach; scrambling to find the words, only able to point hurriedly in your direction.

whilst their mouths fell agape, yours remained closed. you glanced at him from the side, fingers toying with the bottom hem of your shirt. jiyong crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes remaining ahead; unsure of what to say but sure of his decision to come to you. albeit . . . he felt a little stupid. he was usually quite smooth with it, and if he was awkward, there was an indescribable charm coupled with it. he wasn't necessarily at a loss for words (at least that's what he told himself,) but it was one of those times where he acted before thinking it through—hence the silence. you turned your head fully to look at him. "is there something you wanted to bring up?" "hm?" he was caught off guard, turning his head towards you. jiyong jutted his bottom lip, shaking his head. "no. why?" you shrugged your shoulders. "people don't usually follow the person they ran into in the bathroom, let alone sit next to them." "i didn't follow you." jiyong countered. "we're at the same party." "okay. you tracked me down, then." "tracked you down?" his furrowed eyebrows amused you, seeing him fall into your unserious trap. "what're you talking about? we're at the same party." he repeated, a little defensive.

you shrugged your shoulders again. "i don't know. seems kind of fishy." "what does?" "this." "how? i'm just sitting here." "next to someone you don't know." "so?" "people don't just do that. even when they're at the same party." "they do." jiyong wanted to win. win what? he didn't know. "they do when they're—when they're . . ." he cut himself off, growing embarrassed. "when they're what?" you asked. jiyong swallowed, adjusting his posture. "when—when they're. . ." he hated that he started to build a sweat, and the humid night air wasn't to blame. "when the other person's really, uh—really pretty." you looked at him. he didn't dare look at you. a big smile unraveled across your face. "all of that," you said. "just for you to be cheesy as fuck." jiyong didn't expect to laugh as hard as he did, let alone his hand that shot up to his mouth, clutching his lips to hold it on—until he glanced at you and caught your eyes on him, the both of you losing it.

"oh god." jiyong hid his face behind his palms. "was it really that bad?" he asked, opening a gap between his pointer and middle fingers, peering up at you. "don't try to save face with that cute shit." you dismissed. "you think i'm cute?" his hands slid back down, a knowing smile on his face. "that's—that's not what i was trying to—" you stumbled on your words. he nodded along, eyebrows slightly furrowed in faux-thought. "oh, okay," he barely hid his grin; now we're back on track, he thought to himself. "what were you trying to say, then? hm?" "go away." you told him, turning away, arms crossed over your chest whilst his eyes stayed on you. "if really you don't like it, you can get up yourself." "no, because i asked you first. and you're the one who came over here." "i don't see you leaving." jiyong said. you let out a breath, admittedly defeated. a small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, turning into a full-blown smile when seeing your hand make a talking gesture—the same one waving him off with a small scoff.

jiyong noticed how you both sat with your arms over your chest, finding it endearing. his eyes fell to his knee, mere centimeters away from yours. if only i just sat a little closer. "you're funny." he said, eyes on your knee. "i like that." your hand slipped from underneath your arm, coming up to fan your face. "did you hear me ask what you liked?" this bickering feels like we've been married for decades, his inner monologue voiced. jiyong leaned towards you a little, his movement earning your eyes. "i like a challenge." his voice was smooth, getting his edge back. until you humbled him in a way eliciting whiplash: "that didn't land in the way you thought it would." jiyong let out a breath, eyes closing as he sat back in defeat. "you have me spent." "you've barely tried." you retorted, an upside down grin on your face as you looked down at your lap.

jiyong's eyes opened, sitting up, stretching his arm out before him. "i came all the way over here to talk to you!" he exclaimed, defending himself. "i've been trying!" "so you didn't just come here to rest that pretty head of yours?" your flirting flew right past his senses, jiyong prioritizing the bickering: "this is going nowhere." he crossed his arms over his chest begrudgingly. "it is," you corrected him. "you're just being dramatic for no reason." "i'm not being—" he was about to argue, until your words sunk into his psyche. "oh—it is?" you nodded, cheeks warming, pad of your ring finger wiping the built-up sweat off the side of your nose. it took a moment before jiyong said something: "what worked?" he asked. you shrugged your shoulders yet again, pondering in thought, though you had the answer. "you're funny." jiyong tsked, hiding his sheepish grin by turning his head the opposite direction. "it was fuckin' stupid when i said that." he said, still loud enough for you to hear over the music playing some twenty or so feet away. "it wasn't." you said. "it was cute."

jiyong looked at you; ego boosted, but his smile and raised eyebrow reflected his heart doubling in size. "so you do think i'm cute?" "i owe you after you admitted you came over here to talk to me. even if it was apparent from the beginning." that last part was half-bluff—you weren't completely sure, a bit taken aback when he first approached and sat down. you didn't know where this was going to go, but when it did take off, you would be remised not to have some fun. jiyong was sweet; quickly introducing himself as a witty conversationalist whom both matched your energy and kept you on your toes. his banter was fruitful and his clever use of profanity even more so—like the anecdote of when some guy gave him senseless trouble outside of his cousin's birthday dinner a couple years ago: "i told him that i am indeed the type. the fuck i was, the fuck i am, the fuck i will be." "i can't lie, jiyong. you curse pretty good." or when you told him about the argument that broke out between your friends over what movie to rent from blockbuster last weekend: "its not my fault that i didn't want to waste my time when i've been begging to what feels like a brick wall for months to see angelina jolie in 'gia.' i'm not sorry." "fuck no—and you shouldn't be."

jiyong looked like any other twenty something year old—hiding awkward tendencies behind a charming yet nervous chuckle, or going off on an unbridged tangent about a tv show he likes because he wants to fill the silence; keeping a pretty girl like you tethered to him by any means he could think of. but if anyone looked close enough (and you did, because he was fine), they would find something off about his ensemble of a loose-fitting graphic tee, scuffed sneakers, and basketball shorts paired with hair that looked fresh despite his dried sweat; side taper half-hidden underneath the hair that fell so effortlessly into his comma cut—a little too fresh. or perhaps the most perplexing clue of all: the two-toned watch that fell up and down his wrist whenever he moved his arm. you didn't know much about being rich, or differentiating fake luxury items from the real deal, but how the band of the watch molded against his wrist like it was part of him, and the dial that stared you down whenever he fixed his hair, told you he didn't mess around.

his eyes softened whenever your hand came up to fan your face or swat away gnats, noticing the slight sheen glazing your nose and forehead with a small grin on his face. you looked beautiful. the fact that you gave him the time of day was attractive enough—you didn't need to go out of your way to re-adjust your posture, making your plush thighs rub against the swing's cushioned seats in a way that stole his common sense, or your laughter making his eyes kiss in their corners, his right hand gripping the arm rest to keep his balance. jiyong didn't keep track of the time, so when his friends came over—one who perhaps had one too many, and the other with his arm slung around his shoulders—saying it was a good time to get out of there, he thought quickly on his feet: "its all good, man. i'll—i'll meet you at the car in, like, five minutes."

jiyong stood up, you mimicking his movements without thinking. "do you have a mobile?" he asked you. "no," you shook your head with an iota of irrational shame. "was—was never able to afford one." you let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your head. "its all good." jiyong assured. "whats your home phone? i'll call you." your eyes widened, shaking your head with an added sense of urgency: "my—my parents would never." "oh, okay. i got you." he nodded, understanding. the grin on his face was knowing and a bit cocky, taking a step closer to you. "what should we do then, hm? i'm not leaving here without an answer, y'know." "what about your friend?" "don't worry about him." jiyong said softly, subtly shaking his head. "he could hurl all over the street—like i give a fuck. i'm only here for you." you tsked, looking away to thwart the flustered feeling creeping up your neck. jiyong put his hands in his pockets, grinning when you spoke: "you really need to stop with this cute shit, jiyong." "i don't see you walking away, now do i?" he quipped, chuckling when you nudged his shoulder. he liked this feeling. "cmon," he gestured with his head. "i know you got something. tell me."

you looked at him after a moment. "you're lucky i have the day off tomorrow." "i do consider myself the richest man in the world." "oh my god, fuck off!" your exclaim slipped into clipped laughter, in disbelief over his commitment to the bit. "i'll give you my home phone. but you can only call at specific times, and when i tell you to." "i'll make anything work for you." you scoffed, only deepening his upside down grin. "you're not getting any reactions out of me anymore." you said, only to stumble on your words when he jutted out his bottom lip. "come with—come to the kitchen. i'll find a napkin to write it down, or some shit." and call jiyong did—at noon, just like you told him after scribbling your number down with a bic pen on its last few drops of ink. it was about ten minutes after your parents left the apartment to make the weekly grocery run, strategically landing you at home to finish washing the dishes from breakfast. you dropped the sudsy pan into the sink without second thought when the phone rang, hastily wiping your rinsed hands on your shirt, dashing behind the counter and to the living room.

"hello?" "sorry i'm late—had to get away from my parents." jiyong laid more comfortably in his bed, foot shoving a stray sock off his comforter; the rustling transferring from his nokia. you looked over your shoulder at the analog clock hanging next to a framed family photo, seeing it was barely past 12:01. "you're actually quite punctual." you told him. "you sound surprised." he said. "can you blame me? you're a man." "not just any man—" "—its only been, like, ten seconds," you cut him off, sitting down on the couch. "don't make me already contemplate hanging up." jiyong smiled wide. "you're sharp." he said. "i like that." "in the twelve hours that we've known each other, i don't think i've ever asked what you like. and i don't plan on it." "i think you're just going to have to suck it the fuck up, because i like you." he let out a satisfied huff hearing you scoff. "plus, i think we've known each other for more than twelve hours. i've seen you before. the grocery store, maybe? i knew you looked familiar—think i finally placed you." he tried to play it cool, though he knew the answer.

"most likely, yeah." you nodded despite him not being able to see, your other hand twirling the phone cord between your fingers. did he think about me last night? "i've been working there part-time for a while. its been hard finding a full-time gig, as embarrassing as it feels to be two years post-grad." "i don't think you should feel bad. its hard out here." said jiyong, sincerity coming through the grainy audio. "i mean, i went to columbia, but you don't see me in a suit with a briefcase and shit." "hold on," you waved your hand. "you can't just be the most random person i've ever met." "what do you mean?" "i went to a nobody-knows community college that i'm sure will be caught in a class action lawsuit for money laundering in ten years time, but i'm just sat here talking to a scholar?" jiyong chuckled, running his hand over his warming face. "i'm not a scholar, i'll tell you that much." he toyed with a loose thread on his comforter—memories of his father repeatedly reeling how much he poured into his spot at the university flashing in his head, beckoned away with a small, defiant flick of his head.

you brought him back down to earth: "i'm gonna go get my thesaurus." he kissed his teeth disapprovingly, pout evident in his voice. "like the fuck you are. stay on the phone." he panicked slightly at the prolonged (it was five seconds) silence from your end of the line. "please?" you grinned. "you're really cheesy." you teased. "how is talking to a fine ass woman fuckin' cheesy?" "you can't just say shit like that casually, jiyong." "well, i will. hear me loud and clear." he cleared his throat into the receiver, catching you off guard, holding back your laughter. "you're fine as hell. do i need to keep saying it?" "maybe." "are you free for dinner tonight? i'll tell you in person." "maybe." "what'll convince you?" you said the first thing you thought of: "if you wear that watch of yours again." jiyong smiled, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "you like the finer things in life. don't you, baby?" he said smoothly. your cheeks felt warmer by the second, unsure of what you just started. "its hard to take you seriously when i can hear that smug grin on your face." you responded, voice akin to velvet despite the crackles over the line. "you already know me so well." jiyong's fingers toyed with the drawstring of his sweatpants. "m'starting to think we're meant to be. that doesn't sound corny, does it?"

"i'm relieved you're able to pinpoint that yourself now." you heard him chuckle. "and, no. it doesn't for once. you can be sweet when you want to be." "i can be good." he told you earnestly. "i can be really good, you know." "i believe you." you told him. "i hear it in your voice." a beat went by. "you know," said jiyong. "i didn't think you were capable of being nice." "don't be a dumbass right now, jiyong. this was such a good moment." you couldn't stop the grin stretching your mouth hearing him burst into laughter. "you're goofy as fuck, boy. oh my goodness." you giggled, running a hand over your face. "okay—okay, stop laughing. do you know where we're going for dinner? because i've long thought of what i'm going to say to get out tonight." jiyong got serious real quick. "oh shit—damn, okay. let me think." he cleared his throat. "there's this—there's this place i know by the rec center that has really good subs. does that sound—" "—fine by me." you didn't give a fuck what you ate. you just wanted to see him. "okay. okay, cool." jiyong nodded, licking his lips in thought. "you wanna meet there? or i could—i could come pick you up, if thats okay. i know we just met and all. and your parents might not be the most . . ." you waited for his choice of word. he didn't disappoint. "enthusiastic."

you let out a laugh. "you're right." you said. "you can pick me up from one block over." "whatever works for you works for me." "i can't lie to you, jiyong," you said. he hasn't sure where this was going. "but i really like the sound of that." jiyong took his ear off his phone, turning his head the opposite direction on his pillow, silently screaming into his palm. i hit the jackpot! i hit the fucking jackpot! his inner monologue rejoiced. he quickly brought the phone back to his ear: "you do?" "mhm." the sound of your voice made him kick at nothing, covering his face from no one. "i do, jiyong." "oh my god." he muttered. "i think i love you." you scoffed, unable to thwart your grin or increasingly flustered state. "what's my favorite fucking color, jiyong?" "i still think i love you," he avoided the question. "i'll know by the end of tonight, anyway." "i don't even want to ask if you're referring to my favorite color or whether you love me because you're starting to get on my nerves." "is it the right one?" "jiyong." "at least tell me if its the right one. look, i'll be honest and tell you that i'm just really happy i sat next to you last night." a moment went by before you spoke. "i am too." you said honestly. "and yes. it was the right nerve." jiyong buried himself behind his palm. "tell me where i should pick you up from. i can be there at seven."

it wasn't long before you started sneaking him in. up the fire escape that conveniently lead into your bedroom on the second floor of the apartment building you've lived in your entire life—it was a no brainer. it also wasn't long before jiyong got you a pager and mobile phone to go with it. to use at your own leisure, of course, but also already programmed with speed dial: "just press eight and i'll pick up anytime." "anytime?" "anytime, baby." "even when you're on the shitter?" "now that you mention it, yes. even when i'm on the shitter." jiyong came at ten pm on the dot on nights you gave him the green light. those first few times, it often began with the two of you bickering in hushed whispers when he didn't lift his leg high enough to climb over the windowsill, losing his balance and leading his foot to come clambering down, echoing off the steel grates.

you looked at each other in silent panic, his eyes dashing to your door behind you; both listening for footsteps, his shoulders sinking in relief when nothing followed, only to straighten back up when you smacked his shoulder. "get it the fuck together!" you whisper-yelled. "do you want my parents to wake up!?" "alright, alright—damn!" jiyong tsked, clearly annoyed, but his voice remained quiet. "its not my fault the developer built this shit higher than a fucking city skyscraper!" "use your nimble legs, they usually get you far enough." "i don't have nimble—" "—its a compliment, jiyong." "i don't have time for fuckin' riddles. give me your shoulder—it'll help me balance." he beckoned you over, hearing you huff. you stepped forward, feeling his palm secure your left shoulder. you leaned in as he prepared to attempt to climb in again, hand on his other cheek, bringing his closest to your lips. "you whiny baby." you whispered. "you making fun of me isn't helping either of us." "that wasn't me making fun of you." "you know what—i can just head home." he gestured behind him. "my car is right across the street." you looked him in the eyes, waiting for a moment or two. "i don't see you leaving, jiyong." "well, i was just—" "—get inside before i close the window."

he watched you like you just did him. "right—goodnight." you reached up to pull the window down. jiyong scrambled; "wait, no—shit! wait!" he reached up and tousled his hands with yours, either of your fingers clumped together. his face was directly in front of yours, looking into your eyes. a small, please-forgive-me grin stretched his mouth. "you look really pretty." he whispered sweetly. "just shut up and get inside." you stepped aside, feeling his hand on your shoulder. he climbed in successfully, arms making residence around your waist in no time, bringing you in for a kiss. "you're lucky i like you." he whispered hurriedly with intent, quickly reconnecting your lips. "excuse me?" you felt him giggle against your lips. "its—its the other way around. have to deal with your goofy shit all the time." "but you like it, right? because you like me." his arms pulled you closer to him, your supple cheek squishing against his lips. "right?" he kissed harder, your failed attempt at acting annoyed manifesting in a curt tsk. jiyong was in his own world: "right, my pretty girl?" "i wanna say no just to fuck with you." jiyong abruptly stopped, sinking his face into your neck. "i like hugging you." he murmured. "i think you just like annoying me." his giggle was your answer, feeling a chaste kiss pressed dotingly onto your neck when your hands traveled up his back and into his hair. "you're a pain in the ass."

jiyong was someone who knew what he wanted. so when he asked to be official after your second date, you were surprised and even let out a small laugh, thinking he was playing—but he was dead serious: "you've known me for less than a week, jiyong." you said from his passenger's seat. his gaze left your apartment building a block down and returned to you, shrugging his shoulders. "i mean, sure—yeah." he concurred, wiping the sweat off his forehead. the mechanic still didn't fix his ac right. "but i'd say i've known you long enough to know that i want you." he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, because it was. why waste time, especially when you know the other person feels the same? warmth mounted your cheeks, averting your gaze to the center console. "can i think about it?" you asked. jiyong grinned, eyes momentarily watching your fingers glide against the leather lining of the console, avoiding the urge to hold your hand by tapping his own against the steering wheel. "yeah," he responded gently. "but i already kinda know what the answer is." "no you don't." you tried to quip, your quiet voice a giveaway. "did you not say yes to getting ice cream tomorrow? at the pier? maybe i misheard—" "—you didn't, ji."

he smiled. "good. thats good." he spoke softly. he faced you, eyes fluttering down before taking your hand in his. he brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss. he turned to your palm, mouth molding against the clammy skin before making his way down to your wrist. his eyes opened when your nerves acted before you could think, wordlessly calling him over to you when your palm now rested against his cheek. jiyong moved without an iota of hesitation, leaning over the center console. his eyes looked into yours with a look of can i?, voice unexpectedly barely moving a morsel above a whisper. "can i kiss—" "—yes. come here." he didn't need to be told twice, closing that gap damn near immediately. your hands held his face when he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss. his lips felt soft albeit somewhat chapped, molding against your lips in a way that made a shaky breath exit your nostrils; his hand trailing up your thigh.

"jesus—fuck." you were startled by someone lugging their garbage into the dumpster a few feet away from the car, a hand coming up to your chest as jiyong cursed under his breath. he looked over your shoulder, eyes narrowing at the unsuspecting stranger. his attention returned to you upon feeling your fingers toy with the collar of his graphic tee. jiyong leaned in, the chaste kiss sweet. "my answer's yes." you muttered against his lips. "that's news to no one, baby." his hand rested atop your thigh, thumb tracing your plush skin. "at least act surprised," you tutted, holding his face in your hands, amused at his lips being half-puckered; clearly expecting another kiss. "i have a reputation to uphold." he smiled, not hiding his chuckle, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "what—for who?" you tried to come up with something witty, but each passing second prevented anything from landing correctly. you shrugged your shoulders, playfully defeated. "i can't lie to you—i've heard them say that in movies, and it always sounded really cool." he erupted into colorful laughter, his forehead falling to your shoulder. you caught him, unable to hold your own giggles back.

nights in your bedroom were spent underneath your duvet; recounting your days to each other in hushed whispers, making plans for future dates after swiping that day's newspaper from the kitchen counter—"'eyes wide shut' is still playing? seunghyun mentioned wanting to see it recently, i think. i think he went the other day." "tom cruise kind of freaks me out. what about 'but i'm a cheerleader,' tomorrow at 7:15? i heard its good fun.", giggling in between sweet kisses, or attempting to stay quiet if things got heated. whether it was you unbuttoning his jeans or his hand slipping past the hem of your underwear, either of your free hands was covering the other's mouth. jiyong's mewls were muffled behind your palm as your fist pumped his hardened cock— incessant ruffling of his briefs against your hand hidden behind the innocent creak of the bed when you turned onto your back to spread your thighs further, giving his thumb enough leverage to nurse your clit. his body followed your movements without hesitation, laying on his side, bottom lip caught between his teeth at how your t-shirt bunched up in the space between the bottom of your back and the top of your ass—breathing heavily into your palm.

it was easy to tuck him underneath your shirt when he made love to those perky nipples, relishing in the sound of your sharp breath after the chill of his watch band pressed against the warm, bouncy skin of your right breast, his tongue tending to the left. his ministrations were experienced, but how his hand trailed up and down your side, squeezing and rubbing your hip dotingly felt personal. or the way he hummed to himself in satisfaction from time to time, muttering whispers of "one and only," and "how can you be so fucking hot." he didn't give a fuck that his lips were begging for some vaseline, or that his jaw was feeling increasingly tighter—your breathy "jiyong, baby . . ." was all he needed to hear to keep going. even better if you arched your back, squishing his nose against your chest whilst his re-adjusting his posture stretches out the shirt you slept in. he moved to your right breast, encircling your areola before capturing it between his lips. he moved to lay atop you, waist between your thighs.

you felt his bulge against you. "you know whats f-f—mmph!—funny?" you whispered. "hm?" jiyong hummed. "you're in the perfect p-position t-to—s-shit—to f-fuck me if you wanted to." "don't put that idea into my head," jiyong whispered quickly, popping sotly off of your nipple. "you don't know how long i've been thinking about that." "there's no way we'd stay quiet enough, s-so forget 'b-bout it—least for now—shit!" your hand shot up, covering your mouth as the warmth of his tongue made your eyes roll back. "s-show me." it was hard to clarify with how scattered your mind was at the moment. "p-pretend to—i can feel you—j-ji, baby." you cut yourself off, thinking it was useless to try to compose yourself; thoughts coming out fragmented. he got the message, though—practically shoving of his cock caged in his briefs against your clothed pussy, moving his hips against yours. you let out a small gasp, back arching. jiyong collided his hips harshly with yours, feeling your thighs jiggle and a sound of surprise from your lips. "damn! go slow!" you exclaimed in a whisper, amused smile evident in your tone.

he did it again, eliciting a peculiar small grunt from his forcibly-muted efforts, amusing you further. "i get you that hot and bothered, huh?" "you have no fucking i-idea—f-fuck." he came to a halt, catching his breath, feeling how desperate his dick was between his fucking temples. "if you act up like this," you said. "then there's no way we can fuck here." "no—i'll behave myself." he hurriedly assured, making you grin. "i'll behave, baby. i will. holy fuck—its hot under here." jiyong carefully slid out from underneath your shirt, gradually standing on his knees on the bed. he let out a breath, wiping his cheeks and forehead with the back of his hand. "like i was saying," he let out a breath. "i'll behave—" "you're ridiculous." you cut him off. jiyong looked down at you, seeing you propped up on your elbows. "what?" "since when did you rival fedex?" "what?" he repeated, confused—until he followed your gaze; so hard, and with how the fabric of his briefs looked, it was as if his dick doubled in size.

he bit at corner of his bottom lip, hands on his hips. "i mean—" he began. "you asked me to show you, so here you go." you tsked, raising your leg, nudging his shoulder with the ball of your right foot. he caught your ankle, pressing a kiss before letting your leg go. you propped your feet against the bed, knees together in the air. "nah—open 'em." he tutted softly. "gonna have a taste before i leave. make you feel real fuckin' good." and he fucking did—face sunken into your cunt, his tongue going back and forth between nursing your clit and hole; hands atop your thighs, holding them in place. he heard your whimpers, as muffled as they were, even through the erratic meshing of your plush skin against his ears. your other hand sunk into his hair before having to use both to cover your mouth once that knot began to form in your abdomen. "j-jiyong!" your ghost of a whisper penetrated his senses. his response manifested in one arm slung over your stomach, his other hand trailing past your stretch marks, reaching for the closest breast and kneading it in his palm; humming in content against your slick pussy.

you and jiyong lived in your own world those first few months. neither of your respective friends knew—not because it was hidden on purpose or anything, but jiyong was too busy running red lights to come see you, and you were occupied with thinking of a slick way to end a phone call after hearing the pager beep in your nightside table drawer. though there wasn't verbal confirmation until later, there were definite signs: a particularly blunt friend pointing something out when you got to lunch ten minutes late ("there's something different about you, but i can't place it—" "—she smells like sex. also has the glow." "hey! no i don't!"); jiyong thinking his bucket hat would deter attention from the mostly-faded-but-still-noticeable hickey on his neck, only for seunghyun to point it out the moment he got in his car to head to the mall ("that goofy hat isn't doing shit." "she calls me that, too." "it takes nothing to get everything out of you, ji."); when you were too quick to leave a night out, saying you'd take public transit home, ultimately leading you to be cornered by the same friend, strategically pulled you into her car away from the others ("be for real. are you seeing someone?" "we're still—" "—okay, so you are. who is it? don't tell me its that co-worker that ate the—what was it? expired tuna? willingly?" "i'm offended that you think i would ever consider that. we met at a party, anyway—" "jiyong!? oh my god! oh my god!" "how did you—" "—i saw you two on that swing, but i didn't think—oh my god! tell me everything!" "only if you let me get a fucking word in—holy shit!"); to jiyong straight up telling seunghyun "i can't tonight, man. m'seeing my girl." to which his best friend responded "she rang me up the other day at the market, but i don't think she knew who i was. you need to fix that."

things took a turn the night your parents were out at a co-worker's wedding. they left at eight, not expected to be back until well past midnight. jiyong was in your bedroom no later than 8:10, shoes kicked off, hand comfortably behind his head, slumped against the pillow next to yours in bed. perhaps it was the fact you two were truly alone for the first time with your parents gone and window closed—for once not at the ready to dash out if footsteps erupted down the hall—that the conversation trickled elsewhere. something about these last few months was just something different for jiyong . . . he felt connected. safe. most importantly, trusted. you felt cared for, desired, and seen. it showed in those lingering stares; the air just feeling right whenever you two are together; his hand ghosting past yours before working up the courage to hold it in a way that always granted him that shy grin of yours; your cheeks brushing against one another's when you're looking at the same thing . . . the list was endless. something just—it just clicked. the question of are we moving too quickly? pestered at the back of either of your minds . . . but one look, and the puzzle was completed. the answer clear. any doubts eradicated.

trust was in bloom, and so was his willingness to be vulnerable. when it occurred, you shut the fuck up, putting your own shock aside: "my parents have never been the type—nah." jiyong chuckled. it was after some anecdote you brought up from middle school about parent-teacher conferences—specifically how you were outed for having a failing grade in chemistry. "my mom went to those things, but my dad—its like you'd have to drag him there. he was always busy, or some shit." you hummed, reaching over and softly grazing your finger against his forehead, fixing a fallen strand. it wasn't intended, but jiyong took the gentle gesture as a means of saying you can tell me anything. his eyes flickered to the linen before fully turning onto his side, directly facing you. he avoided the stirring turmoil in his chest, bringing his pointer finger to your bottom lip, pulling it down and letting go; chuckling at the small plop it made against your top lip, endeared by your playful scoff.

"listen, uh—" he began. "i know people—people talk. about my . . . about my family, or whatever. about my dad, specifically." he rubbed his eye, avoiding looking at you. "he does work, uh . . . he does work—he works underground—" "—jiyong, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." you told him, seeing the strain on his face. "no," he shook his head. "i want to. i mean—if i can find the fucking words." he let out a curt chuckle, frustrated with himself. he took a breath, still not looking at your eyes, but the bottom hem of your shirt. "i guess i—" he huffed. "i guess i always kinda knew something was different. like, my 'uncles' weren't my uncles. well, two of them are. but most aren't." you listened carefully, cheek rubbing against the pillowcase when you nodded. "it was a feeling, i guess? and then in sixth grade it was like . . . my frontal lobe developed. that's real fucking early, i know, but i don't know how else to describe it. everything just—it just made sense."

jiyong finally looked up. your expression was unreadable, but you didn't look scared. or intimidated. so that was a good sign. "i'm just jiyong." he spoke softly. he wasn't sure why he said that but something in him compelled him to do so. his hair ruffled against the pillow, subtly shaking his head. "i don't do any of that. i'm set straight—normal." for the most part, his inner monologue voiced. you scooted closer, the tip of your nose brushing against his. your brought your hand up, pad of your thumb tracing his stubble. he watched you with a glint in his eyes; entranced. "no one's interrogating you." you whispered, a smile stretching your mouth, seeing him visibly relax. he let out a long breath, forehead falling onto yours, eyes fluttering closed. "and you are just jiyong." you told him, hand reaching behind him, coaxing tenderly up and down his back. "well, my jiyong. specifically speaking." "you got that right." he kissed your cheek, nestling into your chest, arms slung around your waist. you held him without hesitation, quickly combing his hair back with your fingers as it tickled your chin. jiyong closed his eyes, letting something else slip out: "you make my life feel normal." he muttered, hidden in your warmth. "you make my life a lot more interesting." you told him, the vibrations of your chuckle making him hold you tighter.

a couple hours later, he was out of your bed, stood in front of your rotating fan perched beside your dresser. "you'd think it wouldn't be still hot as shit in damn near october." jiyong muttered, quickly leaning down once the fan turned him way, flushed cheeks momentarily relieved. "i know." you concurred, left in nothing but a shirt and underwear; laid on your side in bed, head propped up by your hand. jiyong huffed when the fan turned away, tugging at the collar of his shirt and pulling it over his head, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the fabric. you quickly looked away when he turned around, sitting on the edge of the bed. the unintended brewing silence caught his attention, turning his head to look at you. "this is the longest you've gone without talking since we started dating." "shut up, ji." he grinned, leaning down, bringing his lips to yours.

"you've seen me like this before. why so shy now, hm?" he murmured against your mouth; the kiss slow, deliberate. "s'cause you're fine." you mumbled. "s'my line, baby." you stopped the kiss, lips hovering above his. "you're so cheesy sometimes that it hurts, jiyong." he laughed against your mouth. "but you like it. i know you do." he said between kisses. his hand reached your hip, sliding down your thigh until his fingers tried to nestle between them. you opened your thighs enough to let his hand in, closing them around his wrist. he cupped and palmed your clothed pussy as best he could, kissing you a bit harder. "i know my girl likes it when i'm half fucking naked." he whispered. his eyes opened when the kiss ceased, feeling your quiet breaths brush against his mouth. you perched your left foot atop the bed, effectively separating your thighs, allowing jiyong to feel your puffy lips underneath the fabric of your underwear. "look at her. so good f'me, so ready." he praised, glancing down as his hand tucked into the hem, sinking his middle finger between your puffy lips. he moved it side to side, watching you as a small gasp left your mouth. you adjusted your hips—to your fortune, the move aligned the pad of his finger to your clit, making you shudder, fighting rolling your eyes back by squeezing them shut.

aimlessly, your hand pawed at his bare chest. "j-ji—kiss me." he leaned in, the side of his nose aligning with yours. "don't ever need to ask," he murmured. "jus' do it." he kissed you repeatedly, going slower when you moaned into his mouth; it was the way you liked it—purposeful and fucking sensual. you both were present and so fucking crazy for each other that it could suffocate any room . . . and it was beginning to be your own. "both of your lips are so soft against my mouth, baby," he muttered atop your mouth, adding his tongue to the mix. "y'know i have dreams of eating that pussy, right? can't get enough of it—" "—j-jiyong!" you gasped, holding onto the back of his neck when the pad of his finger fastened its speed. "should i do it now? hm? should i eat this sweet pussy—make love to your fucking clit before i fuck it? yeah?" that latter was his usual dirty talk that got you the fuck going, putting the idea into your head before giving you brain that had yours malfunctioning. it felt so risky with your parents down the hall, so you never did it until—wait.

"j-ji—jiyong. stop—wait." you reached down, fingers wrapping around his wrist. he halted his ministrations, looking at you. "c-can't—can't think." you breathed heavily. "what's up? everything okay?" he asked, lips finding your temple. his finger left its spot between your puffy lips, palm resting against you. "do you—" your mind was scrambled. "do you have a condom? i want you. tonight." there was a small gap between his lips—until it clicked in his head. "right. right—" he nodded, reaching into his pocket and opening his wallet. if he thought he was flustered before, his cheeks were on fire now. the one fucking time—his inner monologue cursed. "shit—i don't have any." "go get some." "one step ahead of you." his hand slipped out of your underwear, sucking briefly on his middle finger before grabbing his shirt from the floor, shoving his feet into his shoes. "won't be longer than ten fucking minutes. i swear." he told you, leaning down and kissing your lips. "just—just stay horny." jiyong said a little awkwardly before climbing out the window. his own libido clouded his senses, dizzying his temples as he descended down the stairs and climbed down the short ladder. "will do." you muttered to yourself, chuckling.

your bed creaked as loud and incessantly as either you or jiyong willed it to. once he was in and you were adjusted ("how's it feel, baby? feel okay?" "y-yeah. just—just hold me, ji."), he fucked you right and good. you felt like everything he dreamed of and more—all those nights he lulled himself to sleep tracing the linen back and forth with his palm, imagining it was your hips; balling the fabric in his fist as he showed himself no mercy with the other, dreaming of what you might sound like around him. "f-feel good with me, baby. c-c'mon." he'd whisper to himself in the confines of his bedroom—panting it next to your ear whilst his hips rammed into yours. you felt as if you achieved your final form: arms above your head in bliss, shirt pushed up to your neck whilst your tits bounced intermittently, your fine ass man between your legs; fucking you with such tenderness coupled with carnal desire, stretching you out in a way you didn't know you needed or was possible, quite frankly. jiyong took his time to memorize your body: all the divots and crevices poetically curated by your cellulite, the uneven lines of your stretch marks, how the rolls adorning your hips jiggled differently than those on your stomach. his hips stuttered, vulnerable moan escaping his lungs when your thighs wrapped around his waist as best you could in your horned-out haze, pleading "more, jiyongie—m-more. want it harder," so beautifully. he leaned down, both of your heavy breaths meshing together as he adjusted his balance on his knees, rutting into you harder than before. all mine, he thought to himself, eyebrows curling upward at the sound of your indescribable moan, how fucking lucky am i?

the only problem was once you started . . . you couldn't stop. this newly-emerged can of worms was barely contained when your parents were once again just down the hall—but ambition was nothing without strategy. you two mapped out the least-noisy parts of your bed and acted accordingly: if jiyong's behind you, he's on his feet whilst your elbows propped you up on your bedside, your feet on the carpeted floors as his pelvis pounded your globes (nearly popping a vein trying to keep quiet in the process); if you were on top, strangely enough the top middle of your bed worked well, but jiyong couldn't change how he sat once he settled; or the one time you fucked on the floor because you really wanted to try the position whilst laid on your sides, but the bed would be too nosy. you swore to never do it again after waking up with a migraine and stuffy nose from the air conditioning blowing directly onto your head.

at some point, you couldn't take it anymore. it was after the thanksgiving holiday—the early hours of black friday, to be specific. whilst your friends were hitting the mall, jiyong was hitting it from the back. he drowned himself in your duvet trying to keep his whimpers at bay, your own palm suffering under the pressure of your mouth. when you finished, he kept his balance by gripping your left globe, squeezing it to thwart the urge to smack it silly. drool threatened to leak out the corner of his mouth, swiping it with the back of his other hand before pulling the condom off. a thin string connected your palm and your mouth, that same hand going into his hair without thinking upon feeling his lips against your cheek. "i love you so much." he whispered, hand tenderly rubbing your hip. "l-love you too. can't keep—" you swallowed, mouth dry. "can't keep being quiet. s'too hard." "i know. i feel the same." "help me—help me stand up, jiyongie." "i got you. c'mere, baby."

you were on the brink two weeks later. swiveling your hips, his hands holding your waist and lower back in place, swallowing his mewls and whimpers with your connected lips. jiyong was so needy—cut fingernails clawing at your bare back, faint whispers of "keep fucking me. keep f-fucking me just like that—hngh!" against your mouth, hastily re-connecting the kiss to muffle his verbose libido. he was more whiny than usual that night—this being the first time you've seen each other in a while from misaligned free time and abrupt family plans. it showed. "oh f-fuck yeah, baby—" his whisper was so faint and high he sounded as if he was depleted of oxygen. the way his face was scrunched up—mouth hung open, eyes shut, eyebrows knit deeply together—didn't help. "k-keep fucking me—keep fucking jiyongie just like that. y-yeah! fuck—" your mixed slick combined with the lubricated condom made his dick slip out of you a few times, permitting a breather, but not for long. your knees burned and you felt dizzy, but his cock was fucking addicting. it was all for you and no one fucking else's. his pathetic fucking whines merely scratched the surface of attesting to that—how about him chanting your name like a goddamn prayer? catching him grinding into the duvet when he's eating you out? begging for mercy with that fucking quiver, only to stutter a million thank yous once that euphoric wave hits? it was endless. he was yours. you'd take that tylenol and hydrate later—for now, it was just you and him. no one else existed in your shared world.

your gummy walls clenched around him, sending him into an untamable orbit. "a-agh!" he whined aloud, sucking in a breath with your hand covered his mouth with haste, his eyes widening. "you better stop moaning like a bitch." you whispered. his eyes were misty, subconsciously mourning the temporary loss of movement. "i c-can't help it, baby," he shook his head, shaking off your palm. "y-you feel so fucking good. m'so fucking turned on right now—you have no idea, holy s-shit." both of his arms wrapped around your waist, pressing kisses onto your bare chest. "i'll be good. i'll—i'll behave, baby." he whispered, looking up at you. his hand grabbed your right breast, eyes watching yours with a glint. "i'll be your good boy—your good jiyongie. look, i'll do this to keep quiet." his tongue encircled your nipple before taking it between his lips, lapping the peak repeatedly.

it was an effective method, considering when you started moving again, all that could be heard was the moderate, non-suspicious tinkering of your metal bed frame—but now your self-control was withering away. your fingers entangled in his hair, vibrations of his moans molding into your plush skin . . . you couldn't help yourself: "f-fuck!" you gasped, hand aimlessly grabbing onto the wall in front of you, nails scratching against the chipped paint. jiyong sucked diligently as if nothing happened. you attempted to squish this shit like a bug, needing your boyfriend to wake the fuck up: "cut that shit out, ji—ha-a!" you sucked in a breath. "i can't k-keep quiet." "if i don't have this, i'm going to wake up the entire neighborhood." he muttered. "not before we wake my fucking parents!" you whisper-yelled. you nudged the side of his head with a tsk, your nipple slipping out of his mouth with you leaned to your left, grabbing your shirt. "oh hell no—" jiyong realized what was happening, you cutting him off: "shut up." you tutted, putting your shirt on. "thats what you get."

you held either side of his face, kissing his lips sweetly. "i love it when you're like this." you felt him hum. "all desperate." "i know," jiyong answered, kissing you back. "you ride my shit into the sunset whenever i do." he chuckled when you turned away, clearly flustered. "come back here." he murmured gently, lips decorating your supple cheek. "but m'being honest. this is how you make me. s'fucking hard keeping quiet, baby." "i can't keep doing this, jiyong." you shook your head. "i'm going crazy." "i know, pretty girl, i know." he nodded, palms rubbing up and down your thighs. "my place isn't really an option, either." he shook his head, seeing you nod. you talked about this before. "always busy with some shit. but i'm gonna get us a room—its about time. so we can be loud as we want to, yeah? fuck good and hard?" "y-yes." you let out a shaky breath, slowly beginning to move your hips. "needed it, like, yesterday." "i'll book it first thing tomorrow." he whispered, bottom lip choked between his teeth. "just finish us off, baby," his voice was already an octave higher. "no one does it like you—ha-a—a—oh f-fuck!"

it was an interesting feeling, knowing you were going somewhere just to fuck your boyfriend. those car rides were either humorously quiet or overly conversational—the little white lies you told your parents at the back of your mind as you filed into jiyong's passenger's seat after your shift ended: "i'll be late tonight. its someone's birthday," "i'm picking up another shift," or his personal favorite "the girls and i are having a sleepover." ("am i one of the girls?" "in your dreams.") he swiped his card at the hotel receptionist's desk without a second thought; clothes on the floor and bed creaking less than an hour later. the nearby 24 hour mart was the go-to for condom and snack runs, or the neighboring strip mall where you went for dinner ("do you want to go re-fuel?" "'re-fuel' is crazy, jiyong.") or he'd pick up an order—styrofoam take-out containers sprawled out in bed, eating your burgers and curly fries with nothing but the thin hotel quilt atop either of you, talking about whatever as the local weatherman played on the box television.

"keep moving like that! holy shit! holy shit!" he cried out one night, fucking up into you as you slammed down onto him. his hands went back and forth between gripping the side of your thighs to smacking either of your plush globes; or laying his palms on your thighs, looking down as he both watched and felt them shake with each unrelenting thrust. "i love feeling this fucking j-jiggle," he sucked in a breath. "and gripping this shit." his hands squeezed your ass before kneading to your love handles, looking up at you upon hearing you moan. "have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are," his breathing was jagged, sweat perspiring across his forehead. "the fuck do y-you—hngh!—t-the fuck do you mean no one's ever wanted you this bad? huh? felt like i needed to start a prayer service when i met you, baby—f-fuck! oh my god—ha-a—a!" he whimpered, hips stuttering to a sudden halt after you clenched around him. you let out a breath, adjusting your knees, hands letting go of the headboard to opt for your arms wrapping around his shoulders. "thats it, thats it." he praised gently. "get comfortable f'me. for your jiyongie—your good jiyongie. there you go, baby." he found his face lost in your neck when he started moving again; fingers entangled in his hair, nails scratching against his tattoo. "o—oh! j-jiyong! oh f-fuck, b-baby—" you cut yourself off with a gasp, guttural moan following. you felt so free. "felt like i needed to start a prayer service when i met you, baby—f-fuck! oh fuck—yeah! yeah!" he was close, determined to finish his thought. "felt like i needed to go to church and t-thank g-god herself for bringing me t-to you—f-fuck!"

no part of the room was spared. godspeed to whomever was on the housekeeping shift that saturday morning after the stench you two left in that damn bathroom . . . meant to get in the shower at ten to make the eleven check-out time and also complementary weekend brunch . . . but its not your fault the both of you are fine as fuck! "like that! like that! m-more—more! f-fuck!" your voice bounced off the tiled walls; acoustics of the bathroom drilling your moans into his brain for his next however so many lives—not that he was complaining what-so-fucking-ever. your knee was atop the counter, stomach laying comfortably in the sink as your hands held onto the wall and mirror before you, being fucked delectably from behind. the plop of his heavy balls against you hardly rivaled the sound of the air vent, let alone how loud you were. "o-oh my god, baby! f-fuck—fuck me! fuck me just like that! a-ah!" your walls swallowed and spit him out whole, leaving nothing to the imagination with the condom covered in creamy slick. he was panicking a little, though, because all of his cock was in you. he didn't have anymore, so he just went harder.

it seemed to do the trick. his mouth fell open at the sound of your shaky "oh my fucking god!", glancing at the mirror and seeing an expression on your face that he thought only existed in his fantasies. "f-fuck!" he whimpered. "y-you're f-fucking tight—feels so f-fucking good—a-agh! jiyongie f-feels so good!" referring to himself in third person was a tell-tale sign he was pussy drunk, only making you more hornier, knocking over the hotel hand soap in your effort to fuck him back. damn—is my dick really that good? he wondered to himself, nearly stumbling in trying to regain his balance. it ended in you two making it on time to brunch—but with his t-shirt on inside out and backwards, and droplets of water adorning your hair, along with a sheer streak of body lotion on display whenever your lifted your arm to take a bite of your omelette, of course.

godspeed to whomever was next door, too, like that one time a couple took an overnight pitstop during their road trip. it was downhill for them starting at 11 pm that friday night. you were stroking jiyong's cock as he laid on your chest, his moans muffled by your mouth, but the boyfriend's eyebrows raised nonetheless as he got ready for bed. the girlfriend nudged his shoulder and gestured to the wall when you were getting your pussy ate, moans undeniable as jiyong's tongue made love to your clit, slurping you up like never before. she kept her laughter in, eyes widening humorously at the circumstance. the smile was swiped clean off of her face when jiyong started fucking you—grunts of fighting for power as your ass rammed his pelvis, mewls of pleasure, and whorish moans bleeding through the walls like it was made of paper. the couple stared at the ceiling in complete darkness, not a wink of sleep in sight for either of them. to top it all off, a phone kept ringing. until something went crashing down.

"who keeps—who keeps fuckin' calling—god damn!" they heard him curse when your mobile rang again. "m-must be one of the girls." you were out of breath, the ringtone dramatically deafening. "c-can you—can you get it? take out the battery or something. i can't reach—can't think straight, sick of the phone—hngh!" your thoughts came out fragmented, shutting up once jiyong leaned over to the bedside table; inadvertently shoving his cock deeper inside you. he slid the back off, picking the battery out and shoved everything onto the floor hastily. "thats fucking better—f-fuck!" you pushed into him, feeling him grip your hips and rut into you at breakneck speed. "y-yes! yes!" you cried. the girlfriend was fed up, but not with you: "why don't you fuck me like that?" she asked her boyfriend. "uh—" he stuttered. "she's—she's playing it up. clearly. i mean, who really sounds that dramatic? right?" he was overpowered by the sound of you calling jiyong's name so delicately that anyone could see what was really going on. the girlfriend huffed, turning away from him and onto her side, tugging the duvet. "that's what someone who doesn't know what they're doing would say." she muttered. "good-fucking-night."

its true: jiyong knew you like the back of his hand. no matter how he got on your nerves sometimes (with love, of course.) however, as your five month anniversary went by, and you rang in the start of the 21st century together ("we survived y2k, baby. i think this calls for some celebration." "just finish your cig in peace, ji."), you realized you didn't really . . . know him. like, some of the basics. here's some context—what initially tipped you off was something completely unrelated: a conversation that arose when you were out with friends; out at brunch at a local diner, taking up an entire booth, catching up after some time apart. an anecdote filled your ears: "we went all the way to his mom's for his little brother's birthday," a friend was recounting her previous weekend with her boyfriend; the tinkering of silverware and iced teas decorating the air. "it was fun. the food was so good—i haven't stopped thinking about the baked ziti." a wave of chuckles spread around the booth, including from you. as she went on, your inner monologue took your attention away from your french toast: does jiyong have a sibling? i think he mentioned having an older sister before . . . but where does he live? oh my god—where does he live?

you grabbed your glass of water, taking a sip, mentally going down the rabbit hole. does his mom live with him? are his parents divorced? i mean, with his dad's work, its highly unlikely . . . but still—what's his family like? holy shit, i don't even know his favorite fucking movie. now the standing question is was this a product of your own actions, or was he just secretive to the point it all fell under the radar? it felt complex and confusing, and also as if the universe was targeting you directly. the next thing cemented it: the mention of your name from someone in the group took you out of your head. "hm? what's up?" you muttered. "does jiyong have any hobbies?" you have got to be kidding me. you thought to yourself, out of everything i could've been asked. and i don't even fucking know. the look on her face was almost knowing, but in a different way. the subtle snarkiness ruminated in some of your friends since you told them you and jiyong were dating—a product of not having the gall to ask you about his family directly, you've figured. "he does," you quickly said, nodding. "he likes making mixtapes—" "has he made you one?" "yeah, he has. a couple, actually." you nodded again. now lay off; and she did.

not only was jiyong the type to know what he wanted, but he knew when something was up. a lifetime in a household riddled with conflict will do that to you. he doted on your cheek with sweet kisses, remnants of your shared desire sporadically sprinkled throughout the hotel room the following weekend. his arms were wrapped around your naked body, bringing you closer to his own whilst he lowly hummed in content—but you weren't paying attention, and deliberately so. your eyes remained glue to the uninteresting re-run playing on the late night television channel. jiyong was losing his patience, but kept himself leveled: "is something on your mind, baby?" he asked gently. "no." you responded curtly. he pursed his lips, "your pout says different." you let out a huff, defeated, turning your head towards him. a moment passed before you spoke: "i don't know you." you blurted. immediately confused, jiyong's eyebrows furrowed. "what?" "i mean—" you shook your head, "let me explain." you turned to face him fully. "the other day, i was out with my friends. one of them talked about, like, going to her boyfriend's mom's house for a birthday party, and i just thought about how i didn't even know where you live. like, what part of the city, or something." you thought aloud.

your effort to find your words subconsciously led you to sit up in bed, hand out as if you were rifling through the metaphorical word bank. "like, i don't even know what your favorite movie is, ji." you shook your head. "the godfather." he joked, shit-eating grin on his face; head propped against his palm, elbow on his pillow. "this is what i fucking mean!" you exclaimed, gesturing towards him. "be for real, jiyong. now's not the time." "okay, okay. i'm sorry," he apologized, sitting up himself. "i'm not really one for movies." he said. "i'm more into tv—like twin peaks. i really like that show." you looked at him. your subtle pout made you look kissable to the level of a federal offense. "what's your favorite ice cream flavor?" "easy: rocky road." answered jiyong. he looked at you for the next question, but it didn't feel satisfactory. nothing did. your face sunk into your palms. "i don't even know where you live, jiyong." you repeated, albeit with an added sense of self-pity. "that's, like, the first thing someone knows about their significant other. i said 'i love you' before i even knew whether you live on a fucking cul-de-sac, or some shit."

his chest felt heavy. he knew you were right. perhaps his efforts of protecting you from the mess of his life backfired. he didn't feel the need to be retaliatory or on the offense, but instead owned up to it. "i'm sorry." he muttered. "no, jiyong. don't apologize," you shook your head. "that's not what i—you know what . . . i don't even know what i meant. just—just forget it." "no, don't do that." he tsked, shaking his head. "that's the last thing we should do right now. c'mere, baby." he scooted closer to you, wrapping his arm around you, bringing your head to his shoulder. "i'm not the best at being open." he murmured, only for your ears to hear. "but i'm going to try my best to change that—for you. you hear me?" he kissed your temple. "its the least i could fuckin' do." he thought aloud. a long breath left his lungs, eyes fluttering closed, letting himself feel the uncomfortable emotions stirring in his chest. "how about i bring you around tomorrow before i drop you home?" he spoke into your supple skin, pressing a kiss. "my parents won't be home, so it won't be a lot at once. but it'll be a start. how's that sound, baby?" "okay. as long as you're good with it." you said. "i'm more than good with it." he assured with a nod. "you're the person i trust the most, y'know."

his family's house was beautiful. lived in, personal, and not intimidating whatsoever—in fact, it was normal. luxurious, yes, but normal. he lived in a gated community lined with homes with price tags you could only imagine, parking his car on the driveway made with any regular asphalt (you felt asinine for being compelled by such a small detail, but couldn't blame yourself either). the few granite steps leading to the front door were lined with potted flowers in bloom on either end. you had hardly any time to take in just how fucking wide the door was, because before you knew it, paws were pitter-pattering on the floor, followed by a handful of barks. "this is rodney." jiyong bent down after taking his shoes off, scratching behind the beagle's ears. "we got him for my older sister when she turned sixteen. i didn't name him that nerdy shit—she did."

jiyong then gave a tour: the wall of family photos that lined the left side of the hallway leading to the kitchen—the frames aged yet elegant (the portraits weren't giving jcpenney but a friend of a friend of a friend who knows an exclusive french photographer, and mixed in effortlessly with developed photos from disposable cameras and polaroids from family reunions); a descriptive yet comedic detailing of the food in the fridge after you mentally got over how spacious the kitchen island is ("this sliced meat right here—my dad's gone to the same butcher since he was a kid. oh, and this tupperware—my mom's bulgogi marinade is top tier." "i can't wait to try it one day, ji." "you will, baby. you will."); peeking out the windows on the lited doors serving as an entryway into the backyard, staring at the pool before harkening your attention back to him standing in the living room, the couch and nintendo 64 between you two ("me, and this couch. like this—" he crossed his fingers. "every thursday at nine for twin peaks." "no wonder you disappear." "prior obligations, baby."); to finally his bedroom, with rodney filing in and settling into his duvet whilst showed you his cds ("wu-tang clan changed my life." "can i borrow it to listen to it sometime?" "its like you want me to drop everything and propose right now." "its never ending with you, jiyong.")

when rodney decided he was over it, he jumped down and left the room, allotting the bed to you and jiyong. some time later, you laid comfortably atop the duvet, fingers entangled in jiyong's hair as your lips molded against his, his palms tenderly rubbing up and down your side. from time to time, you grew flustered, breaking the kiss and turning away, beckoned back to him upon his lips trailing from your cheek to the corner of your mouth. when it happened for the third time, a smile stretched his mouth. "hey," his breath was hot against your cheek, deepening your sheepish state. "come back here. stop doing that, baby." he purposefully elongated the last syllable, kissing your supple skin slowly. "don't get all shy on me." "i don't know," you muttered. "sneaking over to my boyfriend's house . . . making out with him in his bedroom . . . getting all shy like this. its like i'm finally experiencing what everyone else did when they were sixteen." you looked at him, slightly embarrassed. "does that sound stupid?" "not at all," jiyong shook his head, admiration apparent in his eyes. "you're so fucking cute that it pisses me off sometimes." he laughed at your scoff and eye roll, leaning closer when you nudged him away. "like, i get to be your baby. can you believe that?" "you're always on the brink of being my enemy." "that's hot." "jesus—its never ending!"

slowly ushering you into his life began to mend some things. he pushed aside those movie dates where you sat at the back of the theater, lips together like there was some sort of magnetic force; the gelato café where you've tried every flavor twice and repeatedly beat him at chess on the set out for customers; you two fighting the glitchy atm as he tries to deposit money to pay the overpriced rental rates for pattleboats at a nearby waterfront ("its like the universe doesn't want me to ride the dragon paddleboat." "you sound more like me everyday, ji.") for a restaurant his family has frequented since he was a kid. it was lavish and elegant—yet a sense of community was palpable. jiyong greeted the hostess like he's known her his entire life (because he has), cooly pulling out your chair out for you before settling in himself. he had a pristine suit on coupled with the watch he met you in, wearing them both with ease like a second skin of sorts, ordering the chicken parm for the both of you ("its the best dish and also ginormous") and a wine you were pretty sure had three digits after the dollar sign on the menu.

as out-of-body of an experience this was, you felt you blended in somewhat. it was all in your outfit: a long sleeve red dress that draped just above your knees, complemented by black tights, pearl earrings jiyong gifted you for christmas, and a coat to protect from the bitter winter cold outside. jiyong could tell you were uneasy at first, eyes lingering on you whilst the waiter poured water into your glasses, seeing you try to hide your pensive expression with a grin. "c'mere," he called softly, arm draped on the back of your chair. "see that lady over there? the one with the blue silk top?" "mhm." "has some of the worst french tips you've ever seen. she used to babysit me when i was a kid—shit was in my nightmares." "what a way to reach consciousness." you giggled, making him smile. "i know, right?" he concurred, looking around. "oh—that guy over there, by the plant," he pointed to the right. "he was caught with his twenty-one year old secretary. his wife took the kids—think they're about my age now—he went to turkey and got a hair transplant." he wanted for it to be in view. "move your head, motherfucker." jiyong muttered, glancing at you when you nudged his shoulder. "jiyong!" you chuckled. "what? i wanna show you—look! now!" he whispered. you were taken aback. "i'll be for real with you: i would've never guessed." his commentary was disarming and helped you relax; the kiss he planted on your cheek helping his case.

you felt the fleeting glances from others in the restaurant throughout the night. everyone really knows each other, you thought to yourself as you cut into the chicken parm. however, it wasn't attached to a flare of vitriol or scoping-out-the-fresh-meat, like your one friend would suggest if she knew where you were tonight, but with an air of curiosity and gentle would you look at that? before returning to their business. many, if not all of your fellow diners, were older and had known jiyong his entire life. it was tight-knit, exclusive—further illustrated by the aunties that came up to your table when you finished your meal and were waiting on dessert, doting on him with "you've grown up so well," and smiles brightening even more so upon seeing you. what topped it all off was when an elderly man greeted jiyong at your table in the midst of sharing a small plate of flan, followed by his wife and two younger children—all dressed to the nines. jiyong shot up from his seat, extending his hand, only to be pulled into a hug. you quickly figured this was one of his uncles, standing to your feet after jiyong said your name: "this is my girlfriend," you walked around the table, smiling politely. after making introductory small talk, you returned to your seat, not seeing the uncle grab jiyong's elbow: "you look married." he muttered, making jiyong chuckle, nodding.

"blood-related?" you asked him a moment or two later, glancing at the family being seated on the opposite end of the room. "take a guess." said jiyong, wiping the caramel drizzle from the corner of his mouth with a cloth napkin. "hm. . ." you thought aloud. you genuinely considered it: they shared a similar cadence and held their postures akin to looking into mirrors, but something in you said it was otherwise. "i'm gonna say no." you looked at him, hearing his spoon tinker against the porcelain plate. you shrugged your shoulders, "intuition, i guess." jiyong swallowed his bite of flan, smiling afterward. "what?" you questioned. "did i get it right?" jiyong nodded. "you did, yeah. he's my dad's oldest business partner. used to take me on fishing trips—it was him that shocked me the most when i put the pieces together, y'know?" "mhm. i see, i see." you nodded. you scooped some flan in your spoon, slipping it into your mouth. you sat back on your chair, letting out a breath as your arms crossed over your chest. jiyong couldn't help his grin—you looked like a natural. "you're gonna fit in well here." he told you. "i barely know what i'm doing." you said. "well," he countered. "there's nothing to know. i'm just . . . . me. you just need to be you."

you grabbed your wine glass, stirring it with a subtle rotation of the stem held by your fingers. "i told my parents about us." said jiyong. "you did?" you asked, eyebrows furrowed, taking another sip. jiyong nodded, "i told my mom, like, two weeks after we met. she was so excited." he tried to act cool about it, but you saw through the sudden avoidant eye contact and nervous chuckle; amused grin on your face. "how about your dad?" you set your glass down. "he found out through her." explained jiyong, seeing you nod. "then—then he tried to ask me about you like he didn't know. he's not that good at being subtle." he shook his head, smile stretching his mouth hearing your laughter. his family sounded sweet and admirable, a stark contrast from their perceived reputation. a product of being multi-faceted and cunning, you figured, but you found it endearing nonetheless. "would you—" jiyong cleared his throat. you knew what was coming. "would you ever tell your parents about me?" "absolutely," you answered without hesitation. "they might, y'know, stop drop and roll to the hospital. but they're just going to have to suck it the fuck up, quite frankly."

jiyong smiled so big that his eyes kissed in the corners. "that's right." he chuckled, nodding. "would they be more calm if there was a diamond on your ring finger?" you gave him a look, eyes narrowing a little. "i think that might induce cardiac arrest, but not before it does me—because i know you're not about to get down on one knee right now." "i'm not!" he smiled, shaking his head. "i promise, i'm not! well, not yet—" "—jiyong." "its just an idea!" he defended. "to think about!" you tsked, unable to hide your grin, watching as he took the checkbook from the waiter. "yeah, okay," you nodded. "think about it, silently, to yourself as you pay the bill." "mhm, mhm." he nodded, biting his bottom lip; utmost failure of keeping his smile at bay, placing his card into the book and handing it back to the waiter. "you don't see us doing that, though?" he wondered aloud. "if i say yes, you can't use it against me and make me all flustered and shit." "i can't promise you that." "well, then i guess you'll never know." jiyong smiled knowingly. "think i got my answer, baby."

as the good fluttered in, so did the bad. things got real rather quickly—in every meaning of the word. it wasn't that you were naive and expected some adrenaline-pumping life with jiyong. he was normal, and just a person whom was born into circumstances out of his control. he felt so lucky to have found someone so generous and grounding, accepting of his family without materialistic expectations or with a looming hunger for intel. you wanted him for him; the good, but also the ugly—no matter how visceral it may be. living a life of nuance wasn't a culture shock. everyone experienced it in their own respective lives, whether it was what you perused for at the grocery store, how you were raised, the car you drove, your personal quirks, your defining experiences; the list was endless. jiyong's just happened to be the talk of the city, and on full public display when he was pushed to the edge. so when he showed up to your window on a late thursday night, knocking softly and one when your bedroom door was closed (the rules you established long ago), with small cuts on his face and a bruise forming on his chin, you didn't know what to do.

"h-hey baby," he smiled—an effort to fight his increasingly glossy eyes. "how are—how's it going?" "ji," your voice was quiet, taking the sight of him in. "what . . . what happened?" "uh—" he licked his lips, wiping a fallen tear, seeing it mixed with a droplet of blood leaked from a cut on his eyebrow. its now or never, he thought to himself. "y'know how—y'know how when he first met, i told you sometimes some guys try to give me trouble?" he sniffled. you nodded, "yeah." "well, sometimes," he sucked in a breath. "sometimes i let them." the shame felt atomic. it all happened so quickly . . . out to dinner with his friends . . . having a smoke in the parking lot outside . . . the son of his father's many business partners that's been on the brink of being ousted coming up to him . . . the beef trickling back to jiyong, the eldest and only son of his father's, having to take the heat . . . next thing he knew, he was flooring it to your apartment complex, his face pulsating.

he shook his head. "i didn't have anywhere else to go." he looked at you pleadingly. "its—its—" hard to explain, his inner monologue finished, but he couldn't get the words out. "do you . . . do you have a first aid kit?" his voice fell to a whisper. a moment went by before you responded, everything starting to sink in. "i do have something—" "—t-thank you!" he let out a breath. he grabbed your hands, kissing your inner wrists. "i'm so sorry b-baby. i didn't mean to scare you—i love you so fucking much." he cried. "hey, ji, i need you to breath." you brought him back down to earth, watching him inhale and exhale shakily. "you stay here and out of sight until i get back." you motioned to the brick wall to your left. he's done it before, hiding himself during a close call with your parents early in your relationship. "okay?" "y-yeah." he nodded. "don't—don't take long." "i won't."

you did what you could with the tools at your disposal: a bottle of antiseptic that's been lodged in the bathroom cabinet for years in case it was needed; applying it to his cuts with a cotton round, neosporin that was bought recently after your dad nipped his finger fixing a loose hinge on a kitchen cabinet, and a pack of bandaids that have been there as long as the antiseptic. it wasn't much, but it did the job. jiyong didn't have it in him to hiss at the slight stinging, let alone scrunch his face up in muted discomfort. you two sat in silence, you carefully placing the bandaid on his eyebrow as best you could, your other hand lifting his hair so it wouldn't stick to the adhesive. "do you wanna tell me what happened?" you spoke quietly, fingers fixing his hair. jiyong shook his head. "its fucking embarrassing." a beat went by. "i don't wanna scare you—or something." "you wouldn't. its not embarrassing to tell your girlfriend about something, ji." you told him. he recounted the night as best he could, but didn't lift his head to look at you; falling into mutters when it got to the more sensitive parts. it left you bewildered, but accepting—there wasn't any other choice.

"i'm sorry, jiyong." your hand rubbed his bicep tenderly. "you don't deserve that pressure. no one does." "it can get real fuckin' tough." he nodded, feeling the tears brew again. "like there's no way out sometimes. just gotta suck it up, y'know?" he looked up at you, sniffling. "i know." you whispered. "can i—" he let out a shaky breath. "can i stay here tonight?" "you know that's not possible, ji." you said—your parents down the hall. "i know," he nodded quickly, wiping his cheek. "but i just—i had to ask. how about the hotel? do you wanna go?" "i have work early in the morning." "oh shit—yeah. i forgot. sorry." he muttered. he knew this was coming: he'd have to deal with these emotions himself. he wasn't new to this, but it would've been nice to spend the night with his love. "its okay." you assured, reaching for his hand. "can you—can you hold me? i'm sorry, i don't wanna be a burden—" "—shut up." you cut him off, pulling him into your embrace. he nuzzled his face into your neck nearly immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist, eyes closing at the feel of your hands traveling up his back, settling behind his shoulders. you talked to him in a way that would resonate: "when you're the love of my fucking life, there's no such thing as being a burden." you whispered into his ear. "do you fucking hear me, ji? hm?" "yes." he responded meekly, holding onto you tighter.

your palm smoothened his hair, petting the back of his head like he’d wither away at any second. “i told my parents about us.” “you did?” he expected the worst. “what did … what did they say?” “they brought up your dad,” sounds about right, jiyong thought to himself. “which is surprising, since they usually keep to themselves, so i didn’t expect them to know. but i guess if you don’t talk, you listen.” you thought aloud, hearing and feeling jiyong hum as he listened. he opened his eyes, pondering if he should say what was brewing in his head. i’ve spilled so much tonight, he figured, might as well. “what did you say?” he asked. “i told them they have no idea what they’re talking about,” his eyes fluttered closed, holding you closer. “and left it at that.” he felt his face grow hot. “would they—would they ever wanna meet me?” “funnily enough, my mom asked me this morning before she left for work.” your hand traced up and down his arm. “between you and i,” you grinned. “she looked a little excited at the prospect.” “really?” jiyong lifted his head. “that's—that’s amazing.” a twinkle returned to his eyes. “we can take her to val’s,” the restaurant he took you to, “anything she wants, she gets. i don’t give a fuck how high the bill is.” he shook his head, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. “what about your dad?” “he’ll come around.” you said. you saw his face drop a little. “it’ll take some time, but he’ll come around. i promise.” your hand came up, fingers fixing his hair, though it looked fine; you just wanted to be near him. jiyong nodded, turning his head to kiss your palm before leaning in, bringing his lips to yours. “i don’t know where i’d be without you.” “me neither.”

the next several months were smooth sailing. your first valentine’s was spent at val’s before making the headboard bash into the wall at the hotel—the bouquet of roses jiyong gave you sitting idly next to the gifts you got for one another on the tv stand. come spring, you met his family! not only his immediate, but most of his extended, as well. it called for extensive preparation: “what do i wear?” you asked him from your end of the line, mobile flip phone held between your ear and shoulder as you reached for your go-to cereal. “i don’t know—something casual?” jiyong lugged his laundry bag down the basement stairs. “its a fuckin’ dog’s birthday party. wear anything you want.” he let out a breath, lifting the top of the washer open. “no, jiyong,” you huffed, pouring your cereal into your bowl. “be for real. i’m not showing up in jeans. tell me so i can thrift accordingly.” “thrift? fuck no. i’m taking you to the mall to figure this out. what time’s your shift end?” “two.” you looked at the time on the oven—you had to be out the door in twenty minutes. “great,” you heard jiyong as you chewed. “we’ll be there at two-thirty.”

rodney’s adoption day party was as lively as a graduation or wedding engagement celebration. the love was in the air, specifically an excuse for a huge family to get together and eat good food. jiyong’s mother dashed over to you in her kitten heels before her son could utter a mere syllable, harnessing the most welcoming aura. “you’re more beautiful than i ever could’ve imagined, oh my goodness!” she seemed like the happiest person in the world, holding your face so softly in her hands as if you were god-sent. she took the boxed tiramisu you brought with a look of appreciation, taking your hand in hers, and effectively away from jiyong as she brought you to the festivities in the backyard; much to his chagrin. “how’re you feeling?” jiyong asked when his mother was beckoned away by an in law, hand on your lower back. “a lot of things,” you nodded. “many things—good things. colliding.” he chuckled. “good,” he nodded. “come here, we’ll start with my cousins.”

no one had to tell you his father was the one standing on the opposite end of the poolside, the way he carried himself did the talking. he was conversing with a small group when jiyong brought you over. he was half an inch taller than jiyong, never faltering his posture, even when extending his hand to shake yours. you were so fucking nervous, looking up at him with your best smile and polite greeting. it was like he knew, because what he said next was so disarming it nearly made you dizzy: “i’d usually be a lot less formal with my son’s girlfriend, but i’ve got a reputation to uphold with these guys.” he gestured his head to the right. you let out a laugh, missing him patting jiyong’s shoulder and giving him an approving, re-assuring wink. you went to motherfucking town on that bulgogi, coupled with bottomless in-house mimosas (“compliments to the chef, your mom—holy shit.” “that’s what i’m saying!”); surprised when rodney recognized you after only meeting a couple times, delighted when he came over and sat by your feet (“you’re his mommy.” “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”); or him watching happily when you got along with one of his older cousins, talking to her about coldplay’s upcoming record. a job well done; a new chapter opened.

you were invited frequently back to his house for dinner thereafter. your parents did come around, treated to dinner at val's—jiyong answering whatever questions your father threw at him with unbridled ease. finally, after all this time, it felt as if things were falling into place. so much so that when it came time for his birthday, several weeks after celebrating your first year together, you took a page out of his book: making a mixtape. sure, your family computer was running like a jet engine by the end of it … and you picked up an album of an artist he likes just in case it didn’t work … along with something else … but its the thought that counts, right? right. you handed him the small gift bag before after he climbed out your bedroom window, ready to say goodnight. “happy birthday, my love.” you held his face, bringing your lips to his. “thank you, baby.” he smiled. “what is it?” you tsked, making him chuckle. “open it when you get home. its just … a little something.” “a little something?” “a token for you to remember me by.” you grinned, referring to his family’s week long trip visiting his elder sister and brother-in-law, set to fly out early in the morning. “your dramatic ass.” he teased, giving you a sweet kiss. “i love you. i’ll be back before you know it.” “i love you too,” you rested your hands on the windowsill, watching him descend down the fire escape. “page me when you get home—drive safe!” “i will!”

the mixtape worked, holy shit! he read the accompanying card with a grin on his face, heart doubled in size, practically seeping out of his pores when he opened a greatest hits cd of one of his favorite artists. he set them down on his nightside table, peering into the bag and seeing a box was left. he fished it out—it looked like it would house jewelry, nothing bigger than that. did she get me a bracelet? necklace, maybe? he wondered, lifting the lid. what stared back at him was unmistakable ribbed knit black fabric, lined with what looked to be white elastic hemming tucked into the sides; half of the brand name visible. “holy fucking shit.” he whispered to himself. he’s seen you wear this pair before—better yet, he’s taken it off of you before. he picked the folded underwear out of the box, watching it dangle off his fingers in awe. a thought flashed in his mind. he leaned in, inhaling. then he inhaled again. and again. and again. is that why she went to the bathroom before i left? to fucking pack this—he inhaled sharply, looking down and seeing how hard he was through his shorts. holy fuck.

he triple checked that his bedroom door was locked, taking an extra precaution and lodging the top of his desk chair underneath the handle. jiyong kicked his shorts and briefs off, laying comfortably in bed. he took a deep breath, beginning to stroke himself. he started slow, not wanting to work himself up too quickly. he stared at your underwear held in his palm, letting it dangle onto the linen before scooping it back up, teeth raking over his bottom lip. “look how hard you made me, b-baby—s-shit!” he whispered to himself, stomach curling inward, that fucking knot in his abdomen already threatening him. “look how hard you made your jiyongie.” the amount of precum he already had was (to him) embarrassing, making him grip his stiffened dick more firmly to prevent it from slipping; inadvertently making his mind numb and toes curl. “f-fuck!” he mewled. “keep—keep f-fucking me, b-baby! keep fucking jiyongie just like that—a-agh!” his voice escaped into a higher register, almost invisible in his broken whisper. he pressed the back of his hand against his lips to quiet himself, bringing your underwear back to his nose, eyes rolling back upon catching your scent again. a vein popped onto his temple, sweat building on his forehead—eyes shut, thinking of how your skin jiggles every time he fucks you; the way you look up at him before taking his dick in your warm mouth; the thought of you taking your underwear off in the bathroom and packing it for him.

“o-oh my god!” he whimpered. without thinking, he wrapped your underwear around his dick the best his horned-out mind could, fucking his fist. “c-can’t h-help it, b-baby—can’t hold it in—f-fuck!” he came so hard, feeling it bleed through the fabric and trail down his balls. he breathed so hard he could power a fucking windmill, body feeling like jelly as he aimlessly reached for his jeans on the floor, fishing out his flip phone and speed-dialing you. all you heard was his heavy breathing: “hello? ji?” “i’m gonna f-fucking marry you.” he huffed, chest heaving. “what?” you furrowed your eyebrows, the microphone a little muffled. “is everything okay?” “i said—” he licked his lips. “i said i’m gonna marry you—a-agh! f-fucking—f-fuck.” he whimpered into the microphone, his mewls making it all click. you looked down at your thighs, heat brewing between them. “did you—” you swallowed. “did you like your gift?” “like it?” jiyong huffed. “baby, i—i came in it.” how could she act all innocent when she knows what she’s doing? oh my god—i’m gonna get hard all over again, his inner monologue rambled, breathing finally leveling. your jaw fell, catching it quickly behind your palm. “good to—good to know.” you muttered, hiding your face from no one. i wonder if that hotel would accept guests at one in the morning … you thought to yourself.

by the end of your second summer together, there was a stack of photos on your dresser—developed from various disposable cameras. most were from the same barbecue, beginning with a photo of you and a friend making drinks in the kitchen; the snacks lining the counter; the small bonfire that somehow became overexposed when developed; jiyong giving a thumbs up when the flash went off—a tester photo when you thought you fucked the camera up; you and your friends trying to coordinate a photo; you in the middle with jiyong and seunghyun (you finally know who he is! he’ll never let that inside joke go) on either side of you; and two of you and jiyong smiling grandly in both—the first with his arms around you sweetly; the second he calls “just let your dad handcuff me right now,” his hands visibly on your ass, cigarette hanging between his lips as he grinned. he couldn’t help the very characteristic thing he said after picking the photos up from the department store, rifling through them with you in his car: “damn. we look hot as fuck, baby.”

honey's tag list! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა: @gongyoosgf; @infinetlyforgotten; @riddlerloveb0t; @mesopotamism; @pepsicolapussi; @breakmeoff

[inthedoghousern]

settle down

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: lando has always been a good friend of your brother, so you know he's off limits, but sometimes you just can't help yourself. guess you'll never learn. inspired by "settle down" by the 1975.

contains: 18+, cursing, alcohol/drinking/smoking, suggestive content (make outs!).

4.4k words

a/n: ok let me clarify: loosely inspired. this isn't reallyyyyy the 'storyline' of the 1975's settle down, but that's okay!

You're wearing your hair down and it slightly covers your face as you go to answer the knocking coming from your front door. When you open it, you're surprised to find your brother's best friend standing there. 

"Oh, you're early, no?" You ask, puzzled, while pushing your hair behind your ears. You knew your brother was throwing a party tonight, but that was in a little bit, and your brother wasn't even home at the moment. 

"He told me to come early to help set up. Whatever that means," he answers. 

"Not sure if he knows that because he's not here," you tell him. Your brother is an idiot. "Well come in I guess." You shrug and move to the side, motioning Lando in. 

You didn't really mind. Of course, you and Lando were friendly, considering he was so close with your brother. When you were younger you even hung out with the two of them a lot. As you got older, their racing and your school stuff just caused the friendship between you and Lando to be more casual. And it was fine. Sometimes schedules would work out and Lando, your brother, and you would cross paths. But for the most part, you just followed his life online like everyone else. 

Though you had to be honest, back then, Lando didn't seem to have much of an effect on you, but now as he stands in front of you, you feel a lump forming in your throat. When did he get so good-looking?

You don't know what has come over you as the two of you enter the house. You feel like falling all over the place. You two make your way to the living room and sit on the couch. It's silent for a moment before Lando speaks up.

"Where even is he?"

"Pretty sure he's stocking up on drinks for tonight. I don't know why he wouldn't have waited to bring you, or just like, tell you to come later." You shake your head. 

Lando laughs and shakes his head too and the silence returns. 

Now you ask a question. “Hasn't been just us in a while, huh?”

“It's been a minute.” Lando chuckles along with you, the silence now slightly less awkward.

You lean back on the sofa. “So how are you? I haven’t seen you in forever,” you ask with a smile. 

“I’m good, I’m good. Honestly, nothing too interesting going on.” He shifts on the couch.

The two of you sit in silence again, until Lando speaks up. 

“You're staying for the party, right?”

“Yeah. Thought I’d stick around this time.”

Lando tilts his head to the side. “Is that so?”

Your stomach does a flip. You try to shake away the thoughts entering your mind. He’s your brother's best friend, you've known him for years, you need to relax. 

“Mhm,” you hum in response. 

Lando looks down for a moment and then over at you. 

“When’s your brother getting back?”

“Not sure.” You open your phone and check his location. As you look away, Lando eyes wander to your neck, then your torso and legs, then your lips, all in the span of a few seconds as you sit on the couch next to him. He had spent countless hours with your family, sat and talked with you many many times. What a familiar face yours was to him. But today he couldn't help but notice something had changed between you. Was it all the time you had spent a part? Or maybe the fact that he's finally seeing you in person and not through a screen. Lando would never admit it, but lately he tended to linger on your social media posts longer than he should.

Lando meets your eyes again when you look up from your phone.

“Yeah, I have no idea, looks like he's still shopping. Do you want me to ask?”

Lando shrugs, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“It’s alright, I was just asking.” He leans back again, stretching his arms over his head as he does.

You can’t help but look at the exposed skin of his stomach when his t-shirt rises. Your eyes glance down, but you look away as quickly and inconspicuously as possible. 

But Lando does notice your brief glance down and back up again. If you could see his expression, you’d notice it’s a mixture of amusement, and something else. He doesn’t say anything though. Instead, he leans forward, speaking slightly softer. 

“You know, I've missed seeing you.”

You can feel heat rising up the back of your neck. Still, you feel a smile tugging at the sides of your mouth and now the two of you are making eye contact. “Oh really?”

Lando can feel your breath on him. He lets out a small breath himself, letting out a shaky laugh. He looks you deeply in your eyes and brings his arm to the back of the sofa behind you. 

Time seems to move extremely slowly. The atmosphere is charged, your eyes locked on to one another. Lando holds your gaze for a moment, waiting to see if you have anything more to say. 

You lean towards him. He feels you press yourself against him. The two of you are so close together, you can feel Lando’s body heat rising, his muscles tightening.

He leans forward, brushing his lips against yours very softly.

You kiss him back. As you do so, Lando gently moves his hands to your waist and pulls you closer to him and you wrap your arms around his neck. The kiss continues and grows much more passionate. You feel Lando’s hands moving up and down your back, the two of you fully enveloped in one another.

Your position shifts, and now you’re sitting on his lap. Still connected in your kiss. 

Lando’s mouth moves along your jaw, “Fuck Lando,” you breathe out as he kisses your jaw and neck. Your hands are buried in his hair. 

Your words bring a small chuckle from him, and he smiles into your neck. He's finding himself so fixated on the girl with the soft sounds. Her hair all over the place. 

You're also fixated on this boy. Lando Norris. The guy you've known your whole life. The guy who's best friends with your brother. The guy who was off limits. He isn’t supposed to be the guy to make you feel like this, and yet, here you are, on top of him. 

Lando’s hands slide under your shirt as he continues to kiss you. 

The feeling of Lando running his hands all over you and his suffocating kisses are almost enough to make you forget where you are. Who you are. Almost. The illusion breaks when you hear a sound from outside. 

A car door shutting. 

The two of you freeze. As one, you both turn your heads. The sound is followed by footsteps. Heavy footsteps. 

It’s your brother.

“Fuck,” you laugh, panicking. You quickly slide off of Lando. 

“Goddamnit.” Lando shakes his head with a smile and sits back. 

You’re both a bit of a mess. You two are breathing heavily and you're flushed. Your hair disheveled. You’ve just barely finished fixing yourself when you heard your brother’s voice from the front door. 

“I’m back.”

“Hey!” You clear your throat. “Lando’s here." 

“Thought so, I saw his car in the driveway.” Your brother steps into the living room, a bag in his arm. 

“What’s up man,” Lando gets up. “You got more stuff in the car?” He asks your brother. 

“Yeah a few more boxes,” he responds. 

“Alright let me help.” They walk back outside together and you lean back on the couch, looking up and covering your face with your hands. 

You sit there for a moment, feeling a bit shaken. You feel a little dirty almost? But you can’t stop thinking about the way Lando kissed you.

You let your hands fall to your sides before the two of them walk back in. Your brother sits on the couch and Lando sits in a chair across from you. Just a few feet away. It’s like nothing happened. You know he can't be found with you.

Luckily, your brother is completely oblivious. 

“People should start getting here in like an hour,” he comments. 

You get up from the couch. “Alright, I’m gonna get ready then. See you guys later.” 

You rush upstairs and shut the door. Your heart is pounding, and you’re still in disbelief. As you lie down on your bed, your mind races with everything that just happened. 

You cannot let your brother find out.

He would probably kill you, or kill Lando. 

No, he’d kill both of you. 

-

You spend more time than you should getting ready, but you’re hoping to calm down a little. Eventually, you start to hear music from downstairs, and the bass shakes your floor. You also begin hearing the sound of voices and laughter as your brother greets people at the door. 

You take a deep breath as you look at yourself one last time in the mirror. Now or never. Just avoid him. 

You walk down the stairs and are immediately met with 'hellos' and 'heys' from different directions. You greet as you weave your way through the house, and finally, you get to the kitchen. You beeline to the fridge, getting a drink. 

“Hello helloooo,” you hear from behind. When you turn around you're met with your best friend. 

"Hey!" Her arrival is a breath of fresh air after feeling so out of sorts with Lando. She gives you a big smile and hugs you tightly.

“Thank god you’re here,” you say as you pull away from the hug. “Get a drink and then we need to talk. It’s important.”

Your best friend gives you a curious look, raising her eyebrow at you in surprise. She glances around for a moment and then back at you. 

“What is it? Is something going on?” People are in and out of the kitchen around you two. The house is getting busier and busier. You look around quickly and then whisper in your friend’s ear, “It’s about Lando.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” she whispers, a look of excitement in her eye and concern as well.

“Yeah, I know. Now get a drink and let’s get outside or something,” you laugh. 

“Are you being serious? Did you fuck Lando?” She leans in closer as if she doesn’t believe what she’s hearing is real.

“Shush! Oh my god come on.” You pass her a drink and grab her hand, pulling her behind you. 

Though, as you try to exit the kitchen people are also walking in, causing a bit of a standoff. And of course. It’s Lando and your brother. 

“Hey what’s up!” your brother greets your best friend. 

Out of you four, your brother is the only one who is out of the loop on the current... situation.

Lando directs a nod toward your friend but soon looks back at you. You're staring back. 

“Hi nice to see you both I was just going out for a smoke talk to you later goodbye," your best friend quickly rambles to the two boys, and then you both push past out of the kitchen. 

You can feel Lando's eyes on the back of your head as you go out the door.

-

You sit on the porch and she lights a cigarette, taking a drag, and then turning to you, “I can’t believe it. You’re not fucking with me right?” She says laughing. 

You laugh and put your head in your hands. “I’m being so serious," you mutter but then look up again. "But we didn't sleep together. It was just a... heavy makeout...? That got interrupted."

She starts laughing and you laugh with her, the two of you in disbelief. 

“Dude you can’t just hook up with Lando! Oh my god, your brother is going to freak out.” She says, still laughing. 

“I know. He cannot find out.” You smile and take a sip of your drink.

Your best friend looks at you over her cigarette, “…well, I mean, was it good?”

"It wasn’t bad…” you trail off with a grin. Your best friend smirks as you speak, raising her eyebrow and laughing out loud. 

“It wasn’t bad.” She repeats, and you can hear the amusement in her voice. 

“You’re a mess.” She says, and the two of you burst out laughing as if it’s not a big deal at all. She's right, you are a mess. You're avoiding him and yet wondering if he's talking 'bout you too. 

The two of you keep talking and drinking on the porch until your cans are empty. “Alright,” you say slapping your knees and standing up. “We should be social, and I need another drink.”

“You would be right," your best friend says immediately and gets to her feet. You’re relieved to have her with you, maybe she’ll help you keep your mind off of Lando and what just happened. And getting another drink wouldn’t hurt either. 

“C’mon.” Your best friend pulls you away from the porch and the two of you reenter the party.

-

You're back in the house and the night resumes. You have fun for a bit, talking to your other friends, drinking, and doing some shots. You know Lando is here somewhere, but you don’t know where and you don’t really care. Don't want to care at least. 

At one point, your best friend pulls you aside again, “I’m gonna have another smoke, you coming?” she asks. 

“Yeah sure, I could use some air.” You two go outside again. It's gotten later and you're feeling the cold air prickle against your skin. 

She lights her cigarette as someone else from the party comes out, and they light up too. The three of you talk for a while, but you're starting to feel too cold, and you're the only one not smoking. 

“Hey, I’m going back in,” you tell her. She nods, “Cool, I’ll see you inside later, I’m gonna chill out here for a bit.” 

You head back into the party, and once again it’s crowded: people are moving between rooms, there’s music blasting, and you can smell the liquor in the air. 

You're pushing through bodies as you walk through the living room. You pass someone and the two of your arms collide hard. You go to mumble a 'sorry', but you stop yourself when you see who it is. 

Lando. You both pause. 

You feel the heat coming off of his body and your chilled skin from the night air touches against him. You're cold and he burns. You shiver, unsure if it's from the temperature outside or the man standing in front of you. 

“Cold?” he asks leaning close so you can hear him over the music. 

You laugh, “I was just outside. Won’t take long to warm back up in here though.” 

He smiles slightly at you and nods, but the look in his eyes reveals he knows there’s more to it than that. 

You can still feel the heat coming off of him, and you don’t know how to avoid it. You’re trying to block out the memories of what happened in this living room earlier, but it’s pretty obvious the tension between the two of you is still there.

“Wanna go get another drink?” he asks. 

There’s a part of you that knows you should say no, but there’s also a certain adrenaline rush that courses through you in his presence. He doesn’t seem to care about the circumstances, and he’s actually making this interesting.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Let’s get a drink then,” he says, grabbing your shoulders and turning you towards the kitchen. You walk ahead as he follows with his hands on your shoulders. The sensation of him holding you makes your heart race, you feel like his touch could burn a hole right through you. 

You get to the kitchen and Lando lets go of you, making his way to the fridge, grabbing you both drinks. You sit on the counter as Lando stands in front of you with his own drink.

You take some time to just look at him, your eyes locked on his, and he looks right back at you. There’s this air of tension between the two of you and despite neither of you outright acknowledging it; you both know. 

“Having fun?” you ask him, taking a sip of your drink. 

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he teases you, taking one step forward so that he’s standing closer than he was before.

“Are you having fun?”

“Yes, I am,” you say looking down at him from your position on the counter. 

“Good.” 

It’s such a simple word, but the way he speaks it is almost provocative. Everything about him right now is like that.

You both sip from your drinks, and he’s so close to you that you feel like you could lean forward and kiss him without moving. The idea has you feeling a bit dizzy.

You don’t say anything and neither does he; everything between the two of you is so intense, so silent. You're losing your words. You two are speaking in bodies. 

You break the eye contact and don’t say anything as you put your drink down and get off of the counter. You and Lando are nearly pressed together for a moment when you get down, but you move to the side and start leaving the kitchen. 

Confusion is all over Lando’s face, he turns as you walk by. 

“Where are you going?” He laughs as he starts to follow. 

You start moving through the party to the stairs, and you don’t look behind you to see if he’s following. You know he is. As you get to the staircase you start climbing up and Lando's nearly on your heels with every step you take. 

When you reach the second floor and it’s dark and quiet. You open the door to your room and walk inside, Lando is right behind you as you do so. You enter the room and hear Lando closing the door and clicking the lock. The party is downstairs, and up here it’s a different world. 

You and Lando stand there for a moment, and the silence is deafening. You both know why the other came to this room and in the low light, he moves closer to you. 

You can feel his hand wrap around your waist slightly and he pulls you towards him. Lando smiles softly as you wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and your body is pressed against his. 

“You know…” he whispers to you, “I really would like to finish what we started earlier…”

“Or is the idea of your brother being downstairs too much?” he whispers softly, as his hands move to the small of your back, holding you gently and close to his body.

The air seems to be hot as you press yourself against Lando. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, the heat coming off of his body as he leaned his own against you. 

“I love the guy but I really wish he wasn’t here. Or that anyone was here,” his voice almost a whisper, “but I guess that means we have to be really quiet…”. 

You smile and shake your head, “I guess…” your eyes are flickering from his eyes to his lips. You shouldn’t want this, but you really do want this. 

Lando smiles back, his hand trailing your back slowly. It’s a tease and you know it. His one hand starts to move up your back, making its way towards the back of your neck, and he brings his free one to the side of your face. Your arms are still wrapped around him. He traces his fingers along your cheek slowly, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. 

Your bodies are close together and you can feel their heat against each other. The air is thick, and you know what needs to happen next.

You both lean towards each other and meet in the middle, finally tasting each other again. The kiss is filled with passion and you can feel his lips on yours, his tongue meeting your own.

Lando deepens the kiss and you're pushed back into the door. Pinned between his body and the wall. He doesn’t break the kiss and his hands slide down your body, moving down to your hips. 

Lando starts kissing down your jaw and neck again. There is an ease about the way he moves now, he can take his time now that you're behind closed doors. 

He makes his way down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses behind him. The feeling is electric as his hands rest on your hips still, his touch is soft and tender as he moves his lips back up and kisses you again on the lips.

The feeling of your hands in Lando's hair makes him grin against you. Your kiss becomes more passionate as you pull his hair, and you can feel touch of his hands beneath your shirt. Fingers against your skin. Your mind is hazy from the kiss and the alcohol but you let the feeling wash over you. 

He tugs at the hem of your shirt and pulls it off of you. 

You break the kiss finally and breathe in the heat of the room. With your shirt removed his hands trail the bare skin of your back and sides, and his lips trace your neck.

The heat is so intense it makes your body feel like it has a mind of its own.

You lightly push him off, towards the edge of the bed, with a laugh. He laughs with you and goes along with your push, sitting down. You see that he has a smirk on his face, and as you look him over he leans back on his hands and continues to watch you. 

The air is tense with a build-up of tension, waiting for the next move.

You stand in front of him and grab both of his arms, lightly pulling them up above his head. Lando chuckles softly at the move, and with your help, he lifts his arms fully to keep them there. 

You pull the shirt off of Lando slowly, revealing his bare chest. You can see his muscles twitch slightly from your touch.

When the shirt is tossed, Lando’s hands rest on your hips again, bringing you closer and pulling you down on top of him. 

He's watching you with half-lidded eyes, a soft smile on his face, and his hands slide up your sides and your back. The feeling is intoxicating, you feel your breath coming quicker and quicker as Lando’s hands make their way up your body.

You kiss him again, hands grasping his shoulders. Your bodies are pressed together and the heat of the moment is too much to resist. You can feel Lando’s hands all over you, caressing your shoulders and neck, and playing with your hair.

He groans as you grind against him, and he lets one of his hands move to the small of your back to pull you closer to him. Lando wants more of you.

Then

Suddenly someone is trying the door handle and there's knocking. You and Lando quickly break away from the kiss. For crying out loud. 

“For fucksa-“ Lando starts but you slap your hand against his mouth. 

“Settle down,” you mouth at him. 

“Hey, are you in there?” You recognize your best friend's voice from the other side of the door. You can feel Lando smiling into your hand. He shakes his head and leans into your shoulder. 

You clear your throat, “Yeah I’m in here!” you answer. You hear Lando chuckle softly but he keeps quiet as he is pressed against your shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” your friend asks from the other side of the door, “I’ve been looking downstairs for yo-”

“Yeah I’m alright” You interrupt. 

“Okay, well….” you hear your friend hesitate for a moment, “...wait. Shut the fuck up.” You hear her familiar laugh. 

“Do you have Lando in there with you?” she asks, her voice sounding louder, she must be closer to the door now. 

This question makes Lando laugh out loud. You hit his chest. He was the one who was saying we had to be 'so quiet' and now he just confirmed his presence.

You can hear your best friend laugh as well on the other side of the door, and you know she won’t stop until she hears you answer the question. 

“Yes, I do," you admit, “Now go away!”

Your best friend laughs even harder outside. “Alright alright. Bye. Bye, Lando. I’ll try to keep your brother away too, you're welcome!” She finishes and you can hear her leave. 

“She knows?” he laughs against your ear, “I thought this whole thing was secret…”

“Shut up. Be happy it was her at the door and not you know who,” you joke. 

Lando grabs your hips and lifts you off of him. In a few swift motions he has you lying on the bed and he’s on top of you. He leans down and kisses up from your collarbone to just under your ear.

“If we get interrupted one more time…,” he trails off into your ear and then pulls away looking at you. His face right above yours. 

You shake your head smiling, you run your hands through his hair looking up at him. 

Lando smiles back at you. You can see the desire in his eyes. 

You can still feel his breath all over you from his kissing just moments earlier. Your skin is sensitive from the heat, from him, and you feel a wave of goosebumps run up your body just from his touch. 

Lando leans forward and the two of you kiss again.

The bass from downstairs vibrates through the floor and drowns out the music, the voices, the party. 

Your head is spinning. This is so wrong. But also it feels sort of right. Whatever was happening between the two of you was going to make your life chaotic. But even so, the same thought keeps running through your head…

Now I just can’t stop myself around you. 

[harrywavycurly]

Lonely request!! Bachelorette instagram posts that make Harry not only miss his bestie turned fiancé but also kinda concerned because what exactly are they doing in Miami 😂❤️

Hiiii babes!!! So I combined both of these into a little something and I hope you enjoy it! 💖

Find all things Lonely here✨

CW: Mentions of drinking

Tag List: @blckburd @fangirl509east @ell0ra-br3kk3r @youngpastafanmug @mattieshattuck1

A/N: Harry misses you and if he’s being honest he’s just curious what all you’ve gotten up to while in Miami, enjoy some fluff and if you squint you’ll see some jealous Harry✨

Harry lets out a sigh as he runs his free hand that’s not holding his phone through his hair, a small smile creeps its way onto his face as a photo of you quickly flashes across his screen in a pair of heart shaped bedazzled sunglasses that say “bride to be” on them as you lay out next to a pool. It’s only been two days since you left for your Miami bachelorette trip with Niall and the rest of the bridesmaids and he’s been glued to his phone checking instagram what feels like every five minutes to see what you’re doing, like right now he’s on Niall’s instagram story and can see you’re having a themed lunch of some sort while yesterday all you really did according to your social media was have a pool day and went to a nice little dinner. Niall made it quite clear to Harry that while you were off in Miami his communication with you was to be limited, it’s your bachelorette trip and to quote your bestfriend you “don’t need your future husband up your ass the whole time” so Harry is trying his hardest not bother you and he’s done well so far but it’s only day two and he’ll be honest, he already misses you terribly.

Normally Harry has things like studio time or if he’s lucky a tour to prep for to help distract him in situations like this, but he’s not currently working on anything at the moment so he has nothing but time to sit on the couch and scroll through everyone’s Instagram for even the smallest little crumb of a detail of what you’re up to. He doesn’t expect you to be doing anything too scandalous because that’s just not who you are, but still it’s your bachelorette trip and Harry’s been privy to a few of those types of parties so he knows how wild those can be. But really Harry simply wants to know what that Irishman planned for you because he kept most of it to himself not even telling you the majority of the plans besides what you needed to know in order to know what to pack. And Harry knows if there’s one thing Niall can do, it’s plan one hell of a party so to turn it into a full blown trip only makes him even more curious what he has up his sleeve for you. So when Harry is scrolling on your page and sees you’ve posted a few new photos he feels his eyes go a bit wide before he runs a hand over his face and lets out a laugh as he shakes his head.

He likes both photos and starts to scroll but before he gets far he feels his phone begin to vibrate and soon your name and photo is filling up his screen making a grin take over his face. Harry quickly hits answer and brings the phone up to his ear and is met with the sound of laughter making him wonder if you didn’t mean to call him.

“Harry?” You mumble as Harry hears what sounds like a door closing making the loud laughter turn into a muffled sound in the background. “S’that better? I can’t hear you.” Harry chuckles as he begins to realize what kind of call this is.

“Hi my love.” He can practically hear you smile into the phone as you let out a long dramatic sigh as he hears a ruffling sound making him think you probably just plopped down onto a bed.

“I can hear you now-oh did you know m’gon a be a wife? Like someone’s actual wife.” Harry just grins as the slightly mumbled words fall from your lips and he wishes he was there because he’s always loved being around you when you were a little drunk, you always tended to be more cuddly.

“Yeah? You getting married baby?” He asks sweetly as he gets comfortable on the couch, you let out a giggle that makes his heart feel like it’s going to actually melt due to how adorable you sound.

“Yes.” You answer with a smile on your face as you roll over into your back. “T’you silly.” Harry lets out a scoff as he playfully rolls his eyes as if you could see him making you laugh. “Did you forget about me? I’ve only been gone two days.” You ask with a huff and Harry knows there’s a good possibility you’re pouting and he can’t help but want to laugh because if you only knew how he’s been essentially cyberstalking you since the moment you left the house two days ago, you wouldn’t feel the need to ask him this question.

“You still want to marry me then?” He hears you let out a groan and he smiles to himself because he knows you’re rolling your eyes at him. You always act so annoyed when he asks you this question but he knows you kinda love to hear him need the reassurance that you still want to be his wife in a few months.

“Yes and I even-oh my god I forgot to tell you!” You sit up and Harry hears what he knows is the sound of your slippers padding across the floor as you walk towards the bathroom that’s attached to your bedroom. “We had a brunch thingy and guess what was on the napkins next to the cheese and crackers.” You reach over and grab your drink off the vanity just as Harry is about to answer. “Dicks. Like little tiny cute-”

“Tiny and cute? These are words you use to describe dicks often or just the ones on napkins?” The grin that takes over Harry’s face makes his cheeks hurt as your laugh comes through the phone and he knows it’s the kinda laugh that’s going to leave you with pink cheeks and watery eyes.

“Don’t worry I don’t use those words to describe yours I use-”

“Who the bloody fuck are you talking to?” Harry rolls his eyes at Niall’s loud voice in the background and he knows he only has a few minutes left on the phone with you.

“Uh my lawyer?” Harry bites back a laugh at your sad attempt of a cover up. “He uhm needed my signature on a-a uh prenup thing-thingy.” If Harry was there he’d have the hardest time taking what you just said seriously because your words are slightly slurred and your tone makes it seem like you just asked a question instead of explaining yourself, so he knows Niall is more than likely staring at you with a raised brow and a glare.

“He called you did he?” Niall asks and Harry knows right then that you’re done for. “Babe your lawyer is a woman named Janet.”

“Oh fuck Harry he caught me.” Harry laughs and can only shake his head at your admission, he hears Niall let out a laugh and then hears him tell you something along the lines of hurry up. “I gotta go back to my party.”

“You called me in the middle of your party?”

“I did. I miss you.”

“I miss you too baby. I love you.”

“I love you too but I have to go now before Niall comes back and steals my phone.” Harry knows you’re not kidding, Niall would very much enjoy barging into your room and taking your phone for the remainder of the trip so he just lets out a soft sigh and clears his throat before telling you goodbye and that he loves you one more time before the two of you hang up.

The next two days seem to drag on as Harry does as much as he can to busy himself as an attempt to give himself a break from checking on you via social media every few minutes. Even going as far as inviting Mitch over for an impromptu writing session that lasted a few hours, and while it helped for a bit but as soon as he was waving bye to his friend as he backed out of the driveway Harry couldn’t help but slide his phone out of his back pocket as soon as he was back inside the house. He lets out a sigh as he paces the length of the couch in the living room, chewing on his bottom lip as his thumb hovers over the icon of the app he’s become very familiar with the past several days. Giving into his desires Harry lets his thumb hit the app bringing him to his home page of his Instagram, he pauses his pacing as he places a hand on his hip and looks off towards the kitchen with a raised brow.

“Have I always been clingy like this?” He mumbles to himself as he contemplates going straight to your profile or looking through one of your friend’s first. “No certainly not? It’s because she’s my fiancé now right?” Normally Harry would feel a bit odd talking to himself but at the moment he can’t be bothered because he needs to have some sort of dialogue going in order to help him not feel as clingy and obsessed with you as he begins tapping his way through Emily, one of your bridesmaids instagram story.

“It’s normal to want to see what your fiancé is doing while away and-what was that?” Harry is caught off guard by what he sees on his screen and it’s gone much too quickly for his liking so he simply taps a few times and brings his phone up closer to his face so he can get a better look at the slightly blurry boomerang on Emily’s story.

Now Harry knew that one of the major things planned for this trip was a boat day, it was the main detail that Niall actually let you help him plan because he didn’t want to pick something to do that you’d be miserable with and honestly who doesn’t enjoy a day relaxing in the sun on a giant boat with a few friends? But what Harry didn’t put together in his mind was that with a boat day comes boat attire, which means he wasn’t at all prepared to see a blurry boomerang of you in what appears to be a white and silver bikini with the word “bride” printed in black on the bottoms in a pretty cursive font while you dance around with a drink in your hand and a bedazzled headband that has a mini veil attached to it. He has no shame in admitting he watches the blurry boomerang about ten times before he finally moves on through the rest of Emily’s story, hoping to see more of your outfit but he’s disappointed when he reaches the end and the only other photo he sees of you is just of your hand holding a drink that showcases your engagement ring with the words “blinded by the bling” and while it makes Harry chuckle it’s not exactly what he’s wanting to see, but that’s when he notices someone familiar in the background and instantly goes to her profile.

“Don’t let me down Gem.” He whispers to himself as he goes to his sister’s Instagram and he smiles when he sees she has quite the long story and most of it is for her close friends meaning it’s probably of the trip she’s currently on with you.

His sister being invited to your bachelorette trip wasn’t shocking, the two of you get along great and she’s in the wedding but Harry won’t lie and say he’s not a little jealous that she gets to be around you right now while he’s stuck at home, hell even his mom is going to be there on the last two days so she can celebrate you agreeing to spend forever with her son. So the least Gemma could do in Harry’s opinion is post some shots of you enjoying your boat day in your lovely little bridal bikini.

“Holy shit.” He reaches down and grabs the back of the couch for support as he finally gets exactly what he’s been looking and hoping for. It’s a photo of you laying out on a lounge chair with a grin on your face and the same heart shaped sunglasses on that he saw you wearing a few days ago and the sun is hitting your swimsuit just right causing the silver bits to shine and you have a slice of watermelon in your hand that isn’t holding a drink and Gem has written “The Watermelon Sugar Bride” and included the song in the background of the story as well. Harry taps through his sister’s story and smiles when he gets to a video of the two of you singing along to one of his songs until you spot Niall and Tammy in the background making funny faces making you tell them to fuck off resulting in Gem saying “excuse me! This is a family show.” And without missing a beat you turn to face her camera and wiggle your eyebrows as you go “or is it?”

“That’s my future wife right there.” Is all Harry says with a grin as he goes through the rest of Gem’s story laughing at the random photos of Niall who constantly looks a little worried as he’s looking at you or one of the girls. He decides to go to Niall’s profile to see what he’s posted recently and he laughs at the captions before liking them.

It feels as if you’ve been gone for months when really you’ve been gone for five days but Harry can’t hardly contain the excitement he feels knowing you’ll be home tomorrow. He knows you’ve had a great time and really enjoyed yourself, his mom FaceTimed him last night while at dinner so he could see everyone and you looked almost like you were glowing with how adored Harry knew you felt in that moment. You had a smile on your face and a certain sparkle in your eyes that made Harry’s heart swell because you just looked so happy, and since you were coming home tomorrow Niall wasn’t as strict with his rules on communication so it didn’t shock Harry at all when he saw your name flash across his phone screen while he was making coffee.

“Good morning sweetheart.” He says with a smile as he reaches for the sugar next to the coffee maker. He hears you let out a little yawn letting him know you’re probably still tucked in bed, he puts you on speaker so he can spoon some sugar into his mug and stir it in without having to mess with holding the phone up to his ear.

“I can practically smell the coffee through the phone and it’s rude.” You whine making Harry chuckle as he brings the mug up to his lips to take a sip to see if it needs anything else.

“Where’s that bestie of yours hmm? Isn’t he on coffee duty while I’m not around?” He asks after taking another sip and he hears you let out a groan as you roll over to your back.

“He’s so bad at making coffee.”

“I beg your pardon? I make it how a normal human is s’posed to drink it you caffeine goblin.”

“No you make it all watered down and-”

“Watered down? I add two scoops for every four cups of water that’s the proper way to make it.” Harry just goes about his business and pops a bagel into the toaster as you and Niall argue over the right way to make coffee, it doesn’t shock Harry that Niall is with you in bed at such an hour because he’s always been an early riser so of course he’s going to go to your room for some morning cuddles before everyone else wakes up especially since Amelia sadly wasn’t able to stay the whole trip and had to leave a few days early he doesn’t like having an empty bed.

“I’m the bride Niall you’re supposed to just make it how I like it.” Harry raises a brow at your statement and not even a second passes before you’re in a fit of laughter and he can’t help but just shake his head because he knew you weren’t being serious.

“Harry you ready to have her back mate?” Niall asks as he takes the phone from you and Harry just smiles to himself as he takes the bagel from the toaster and puts it on his plate. “Because I’m ready to be rid of her.”

“Oh please you’re going to miss me the moment you drop me off at home and you know it.” Harry laughs at your accusation because if Niall is anything like him then it’s true, he’s going to miss you the moment you’re away from him especially after spending so much time with you on this trip.

“I’m very ready to have her back yes.” Harry answers as he picks up the phone after taking it off speaker. “I’m never letting her go on a trip without me again.” He teases making Niall laugh while he hears you mumble something about him being clingy.

“Well I gotta go make some shit coffee so here’s your missus but make it snappy yeah? We have plans for today.” With that Niall gives you back your phone and Harry hears the sound of a door open and close letting him know you’re alone in your room now.

“I get to see your face tomorrow and I think I might cry because I really have missed you so much and I don’t know why but this trip just-it just made it all feel so real? We get married in just a few months as in you’re going to be my husband and I’m going to really be your wife.” Harry does his best to hold back his emotions as your words hit him, he had a feeling that this trip was going to be a big deal for you because just a few weeks prior you had found your dress and had your first bridal moment so being surrounded by your friends and loved ones all celebrating the fact you’re a bride to be he knew was just going to be a lot. “You really love me enough to want to be with me forever.” He clears his throat and blinks a few times to help get himself in order before he can respond.

“I love you so much that I don’t think forever is actually long enough but it’s a start.” He knows you just rolled your eyes at how corny he sounds but he also knows your cheeks are pink and you have a smile on your face because you love it when he says things like that to you. “I can’t wait to be able to call you my wife. And honestly baby I’ve missed you so much I’ve been stalking you on Instagram all week and I’m probably going to cry the moment I see you get out of Niall’s car because I can’t help it.” He admits with a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair and he smiles when he hears you let out a small chuckle.

“You’re like obsessed with me aren’t you?” You ask with a slight tease to your voice but Harry just shrugs as he grabs his coffee mug and brings it up to his lips.

“Just a little bit.” He answers without hesitation making you smile because even though you don’t say it, both of you know you’re just as obsessed with him.

[taraxippos]

Do you have any nature documentaries you would recommend? I find a lot of them too sensationalized and not informative enough for my tastes

I think 'Nature' on PBS is like. THE best single show overall. It's been running since as long as I can remember and has a ton of episodes (most of the older seasons aren't available anymore though). It has different people involved with each production can have pretty significant variety in tone and approach, so some episodes are kinda flops but it never really falls into that wild crazy over-sensationalized end of the spectrum (just like. goofy or boring at worst). A lot of the time they tend to follow specific wildlife biologists working with the subject matter so you get an especially detailed look and expert perspectives involved. You can watch a good deal of them for free on the PBS website/youtube channel but some require a PBS subscription (I haven't found them streaming for free elsewhere)

BBC tends to make some of the the better nature docs out of the major networks like I think Planet Earth (and its sequel), Blue Planet (and its sequel), Frozen Planet, and Seven Worlds One Planet are all very good. BBC 'The Mating Game' falls into all the silliness one might expect but is also pretty solid and stood out to me because I realized I had NEVER seen homosexual behavior depicted in a nature documentary (depicts pair bonded female albatross at one point)

Prehistoric Planet is also excellent on the off chance you haven't seen it (there can be some nitpicks on like anatomical accuracy and the feasibility of some of the speculative behavior but this is like BY FAR by best quality dinosaur media I've ever seen).

I also accumulated a small playlist of nature docs on youtube that I thought were solid a couple years back. You can find some really good stuff available for free on youtube like there's a TON of nature docs out there, a lot of them pretty niche stuff or low budget but solid independent projects (just make sure you have a functional ad blocker because they're generally uploaded by specific channels laden with ads for the revenue)

[aryana-thefairy]

🦋Astrology indicators of beauty 🦋

(Who am I ? I am Aryana and I like to post about astrology , divine feminine , law of attraction , connect with me 💌✨)

Libra Sun / Rising ♎️

You are undeniably beautiful. You have people falling all over you. This is the most common placements for beauty in models and world wide famous actors / actress . Venus in its rightful place 💗 too many secret admirers to count 💌 most people with this placements have beautiful glowing skin unless aspected by harsh Saturn placements. What is there not to love about you ? You are so attractive , everyone wants you desperately. The personification of goddess Aphrodite in human form 🐚

Lilith in first house / twelve house 🫦

Everyone’s secret fantasy. Men desire you and the girls dislike you. Don’t take it in a bad way , most women are threatened by your beauty and sexuality. You are the definition of sexy and with this placement , it can get scary sometimes, be wary of people trying to use you. Unfortunately , these people tend to get sexualised from a young age and are punished for who they are. As you grow older , harness your power of wisdom , there is more to you than what meets the eye. Don’t feel guilty about other people’s judgements about you. You are sexy , they want you and those who can’t have you , they can only talk about you. This placement reminds me of the movie Malena.

Sun conjunct Venus 🔮

Everyone likes you , you are adorable and popular. You have guys lined up for you. Not only that , people want to be around you all the time. Everyone wants to be your friend. One thing I have noticed about this placement is that , people think you are shallow because you are too beautiful but that is not the case. Don’t let their comments define you. You are charismatic and interesting too , your beauty is a bonus 😉 big kisses , let’s be friends 🥺💗

Sun conjunct mercury 😉

You charm people’s pants off , that is a bit of understatement. There is something about you beyond just looks. You are one smooth talker , people constantly think you are flirting. This placement gives a sensual voice. I want to hear you talk all day. Your voice is like a siren. Don’t misuse your power. Do good 💗 spread love like you always do. Yes , you are aware of it. People always think that Venus signs determine who is popular , but it is always mercury girls for the win👯‍♀️

Neptune in first house / Neptune rising 🪐

There is something otherworldly and ethereal about this placement. You are so unique and you stand out . You are like an alien , do you know who has this aspect ? Marilyn Monroe , one of the most beautiful and popular woman of all times. You set trends , people copy you. You might feel like an alien at times , but you are the star ⭐️ and spotlight is always on you. This placement also indicates fame , I won’t be surprised if you have a large social media following.

First astrological post but definitely not the last 😉

If you like astrology, law of attraction , feminine tips , or any advice , definitely follow for more

I am utterly grateful to you , my inbox is always open for suggestions 💌

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

The other day, I was reminiscing with friends about dumb stuff we used to believe when we were kids and I was vividly reminded of being in elementary school and told by another kid that if a girl pees standing up too often it weakens her stomach muscles and eventually, quote, "her parts fall out."

Obviously, that doesn't happen. We all had a good laugh at the story, but it made me wonder - as someone who teaches sex ed - what is the strangest or most memorable misconception you've heard from a kid?

I don't think I've heard anything that wild, which may be because of the rather unrepresentative group of kids I tend to work with—unsurprisingly, parents that value sex education highly enough to bring their kids to dedicated weekend sex ed classes outside of school tend to have conversations at least outlining the basics before I jump in. by the time kids make it to me they're somewhere between 4th-6th grade, plenty of time to learn about pregnancy thanks to the arrival of younger siblings, start experiencing some parts of puberty themselves, and gather info from family, peers, and the media they consume.

granted, not all of that info is necessarily accurate, and obviously there are some misunderstandings. I've corrected the idea that menstruation happens out of the anus, that the eggs that get fertilized to cause human pregnancy are of similar size with chicken eggs, and the recurring notion that childbirth happens through the navel rather than the vagina. but I can see how all of those ideas might form; they're not so wildly off base that I can't see how a kid would arrive at those conclusions based on partial information. and for every kid who thinks they'll menstruate out their butt, I have a kid who can correctly identify the cervix on a chart and tell me what it does. kids are smart!

[fxrmuladaydreams]

drunken bets (cs55)

carlos x mclaren social media!reader

summary: carlos makes a bet with a few other drivers, claiming that he can get you, a new (introverted) mclaren employee, to fall for him

notes: what can i say? i love writing driver x mclaren worker apparently 😂 i think it’s because she can be bffs with lando and oscar and that makes me soft. someone had to be the villian/bad influence so i’m sorry drunk pierre/lance. i hope you guys like the “she fell first, he fell harder” trope

next part

The music in the club blasts through the speakers. Drinks are thrown back as warm bodies dance, or more so grind, against each other to the beat.

Carlos feels the buzz from the alcohol coursing through him. He takes drink after drink. He deserves to relax after this race weekend, hangover be damned. He’s approached countless times by girls looking to spend some time with him, all to which he brushes off, choosing to go home alone at the end of the night.

“C’mon man, what’s up?” Lance asks as Carlos sends another breathtaking girl away. “You’re just not in the mood?”

“I don’t think he can do it. I think he needs his “smooth operator” title revoked.” Pierre drunkenly laughs.

Carlos scoffs, pushing Pierre away by his shoulder. “I could get any girl I wanted. Try me.”

Pierre grins and nods. “Alright,” he looks around the club and nods to a blonde at the bar. “How about her?”

Lance shakes his head. “No, that’s too easy. She’s been staring at him all night.”

Pierre points out a few more girls, all of whom have already expressed some kind of interest in the Spanish driver, until an idea pops into his head.

“What about that new McLaren girl?”

Carlos knew who he was talking about almost instantly. You were a newer part of McLaren’s marketing team. While most others from the team could be found creating content with the boys, you tended to keep yourself behind a computer. Lando said you were hired to do things like edit videos or photos, more behind the scenes stuff.

Others had taken an interest in you when you had shown up. A few engineers or pit crew from other teams attempted to get closer with you, all while you turned them down with a quick no. Hell, even Pierre tried to shoot his shot, but you very quickly shut him down.

You tended to stick closer to Lando and Oscar, both boys somehow able to get you to open up to them.

“You mean Y/n? She won’t date anyone.” Lance shrugs.

“Yeah, so I don’t think Mr. Smooth Operator could get her to date him.” Pierre smirks.

“I could.” Carlos is quick to defend. “Easy.”

“Alright then, let’s make this interesting. You get Y/n to have actual romantic feelings for you, and I’ll give you one hundred euros.”

Carlos reaches his hand out for Pierre to shake. “Deal.”

Carlos wakes up with a pounding headache the next morning, the sun streaming in way too bright through his hotel window. He drags himself out of bed and into the shower, attempting to feel a little more like a human before he actually has to go outside and face the world.

He eats a simple breakfast, something that doesn’t make him feel like he’s about to puke his guts all over his plate. Then he finally starts to pack his suitcase for his trip back home.

He checks his phone before pushing it into his pocket. He sees a few message notifications from Pierre and Lance.

From Lance

Insane night last night. I never want to drink again.

From Pierre

I honestly don’t remember much from last night, but I do remember a bet, and I can’t wait to be 100 euros richer

Carlos groans as he remembers the bet he made the previous night. There’s no way they’re going to let this go, they’ll make sure it hangs over his head until the end of time.

A selfish part of him wants to go on with the bet, to prove that even though he’s had some time being single for a while, he’s still a hot ticket item in the dating world. It wouldn’t hurt his image either, he thinks. If he’s seen pursuing and dating someone who isn’t a model it could make him look like he’s matured, like he’s ready to settle down instead of spending his nights in different beds wherever they travel.

From Carlos

I think you mean 100 euros poorer

The next race weekend he makes it a point to hang around the McLaren garage. No one’s surprised to see him there, given his close friendship with Lando, so the striking Ferrari red practically goes unnoticed in the sea of papaya.

He keeps an eye out for you as he sits with Lando, excusing himself when he spots you making your way towards them. You’ve got a set of headphones on over your ears, clearly enthralled by whatever you’ve got playing on the tablet you’re holding.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts walking in your direction, scrolling through whatever social media app he happened to quickly open. He walks until his shoulder bumps into yours, a little too rough, nearly knocking the tablet out of your hands.

Carlos wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you upright, and manages to catch the tablet with his other hand.

“Are you alright?” He asks, flashing you a smile.

You nod and take a step back from him. “I’m okay, are you?”

He swipes a hand through his hair, then holds your tablet out for you to take. “I’m good. It’s Y/n, right?”

“Yeah, I’m at McLaren.” You tilt your head towards the McLaren garage.

“Yeah, I can see that.” He laughs, glancing down at your papaya team kit.

“Right, sorry.” You laugh. “I should probably go, filming and editing to do and what not.”

Carlos gives you a smile and a nod followed by a quick goodbye. He brushes his arm against yours as he walks away. He has to keep himself from looking back at you to see your reaction, but gets a text from Lando later in the day that gives him the satisfaction he was looking for.

From Lando

What did you do to my editor?

The next time Carlos sees you, he recreates your first meeting, bumping into you just so he can wrap his arms around you again.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” He laughs, holding you.

You laugh with him and shake your head. Your hands rest against his chest from attempting to catch yourself. “We really do.”

He smiles as he lets go of you, but keeps himself planted where he’s standing, giving you his undivided attention.

“I saw the recent McLaren video, it was really good. It kind of makes me wish you worked here when I was with McLaren.” He says tilting his head up teasingly.

“It’s mostly my coworkers, I pretty much just make it look good after it’s filmed.” You tell him, you duck your head down to avoid his gaze.

“Still.” He shrugs.

He’s pulled away by Charles after that, who gives you a quick hello before dragging Carlos back to Ferrari’s garage.

You see Carlos a lot more now around McLaren. You chalk it up to his friendship with Lando, but you begin to notice his seeking you out. He shares meals with you now, even if he ends up sitting with you while you’re focus is locked on your laptop.

Carlos is surprised to find that he’s started to genuinely enjoy your company, that he actually looks forward to seeing you every race weekend. He shakes away the feeling that blossoms in his chest whenever he sees you, afraid of becoming too attached.

That all flies out the window when he’s headed back to his hotel one day though. Dark clouds covered the sky, turning it almost black as rain poured down. You could hear thunder rumbling in the distance, likely headed towards the track.

Carlos sees you standing under the awning of McLaren hospitality, looking up at the sky. You’ve got your phone in your hand and a disgruntled look on your face.

He lifts his bright red umbrella up over his head and dashes over to the McLaren building. He puts his umbrella back down once he’s standing next to you, shaking the drops of water off.

“Did you forget an umbrella?” He asks.

You turn away from your phone to look up at him. He’s got a teasing smile on his face. The humidity in the air has made his hair impossibly fluffier, but somehow still picture perfect. He’s bundled up in a Ferrari windbreaker, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah. And I walked here from the hotel today, so I can either try to get a taxi or I can wait until the weather clears up.” Just as you finish explaining your problem thunder booms above you.

Carlos shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I’m not letting you walk out in this.” He gestures to the sky.

“Well the other option is find a taxi.”

“I’ll drive you.” He says it as if it’s an obvious solution. Before you can respond he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him so that you’re both under his umbrella, then starts walking towards the parking lot.

You try to keep up with his pace, occasionally bumping into him, but he makes sure to hold the umbrella over the both of you. He leads you to his car, and holds the umbrella over you as you climb into the passenger side.

You notice how water clings to his hair, drops falling down his coat on his right side, evidence of him prioritizing keeping you dry over himself.

“Carlos, you could get sick, and it’d be my fault.” You scold him.

He shrugs and gives you a smile. “Then you’ll just have to nurse me back to health.”

He parks at the entrance to the hotel McLaren had booked, and walks you into the building. When you expect him to leave, he places a hand on your lower back guiding you to the elevator. He walks you all the way to your door, and leaves you with a “goodnight” and a soft squeeze of your hand.

You get a text from him later that night.

From Carlos

Lando gave me your number. What time should I pick you up tomorrow?

From Y/n

You don’t have to, that’s okay

From Carlos

That’s not an answer cariño

You feel yourself start to smile at the message on your screen and text him what time you usually leave.

He picks you up the next morning, driving you to the track with him. You make conversation about little things like how you slept and what you had for breakfast. He’s quick to run over to your side of the car to open the door for you, and keeps himself close to you as you enter the paddock.

He meets you at the end of the day as well to drive you back to the hotel. He keeps up this new routine each race weekend following. He enjoys your company, and you seem to enjoy his. After a few weekends you could say you have a new chauffeur in the form of a Ferrari driver.

With this new closeness to Carlos comes a wave of media attention you should have expected. Photos are posted over social media of the two of you walking together, you looking up at Carlos with bright eyes, or him looking down at you with his doe eyes.

It’s easy to tell that all of the new attention makes you uncomfortable, but you don’t want to lose your friendship with Carlos so you stick it out. You’re grateful when you see a clip of an interview with Carlos where he’s asked about you, and he sets the record straight.

“There’s nothing going on, we just like to hang out together. We’re just friends.” He smiles.

Although you’re glad he’s put an end to the speculation, you can’t help but feel like your recent hangouts have been only barely platonic. After the nights you’ve claimed are “movie nights” that have turned into falling asleep in each other’s arms, it’s hard to put a platonic label on your relationship.

The first time it happens, it’s you who wakes up first. His chest is warm beneath your head, and his arms lock you against his body. You tilt your head up to look at him. His hair is unkempt, yet still looks effortlessly good. You reach up and brush a few strands away from his face. You watch him for a few minutes, wondering how you were so lucky to be spending your time with someone so beautiful. You rest your head back on his chest and let sleep wash over you again, listening to the soft beats of his heart.

Carlos wakes up not long after you’ve gone back to sleep, lifting an arm to run a hand through his hair. He can feel the little puffs of air from your breathing against his chest, his heart melts when you subconsciously nuzzle your face deeper into him to get more comfortable. You look so sweet, so soft, and a part of him hates himself for it. He let himself accept that stupid bet, and he let himself fall for you. He wishes he’d never let his friends talk him into making that bet, but he also decides he’d never trade the time he’s spent with you for anything.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when you slowly lift yourself up off of him. He misses your warmth as soon as he can’t feel it anymore.

The two of you continue spending your evenings together, wanting nothing more than to keep falling asleep wrapped up in one another.

He finds himself searching for you in the crowd at parties and events, even those he knows you won’t be at, just so he can spend more time with you. He texts you everyday you’re apart to make sure that you’ve eaten and gotten enough sleep.

Carlos can’t bear the thought of being away from you for more than a week between races. He casually mentions that he’s going back to Spain for the small break, and asks if you want to join him.

You laugh and scoff shaking your head. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious, it could be fun. You could relax a little bit. I could take you on my boat. C’mon.” He persuades you.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time off.”

“You’re not. I want you there, I promise. Please?” He takes your hands in his, swinging them back and forth. He gives you his best puppy dog eyes and bats his eyelashes at you.

“Alright, I’ll go with you.” You sigh, but can’t stop the smile from spreading over your face.

It’s different, sharing a space with Carlos outside of the four-walled hotel rooms you’ve stayed in for work. It feels intimate being with him in his home country. He books a private villa to stay in on the beach.

The trip quickly feels more romantic than friendly, what with him cooking your dinner for you, and your evenings in either the hot tub or curled up together on the couch.

You spend your days with Carlos on his boat. You reading a book you brought with you, and Carlos laying out in the sun to tan.

It’s hard not to stare at him, his tanned toned chest on display, while his swim trunks hang low on his hips. He has just as much trouble keeping his eyes away from you as well, he can’t help but watch you as you scamper around the boat in a different little bikini everyday.

Occasionally he convinces you to hop in the water with him, to which you reluctantly agree. You keep your arms locked around him when you feel something brush against your leg in the water. Carlos keeps a firm hold on your waist as he can’t stop laughing at your distress.

Eventually you get back on his boat and sit side by side on the edge, with your feet dangling in the water. You stare down at the crystal blue sea, looking for any creatures swimming around.

Carlos looks back out to the shore. The smile that’s been plastered on his face for the last few days falls when he sees a figure on the beach. They’re far enough away that he can’t really tell who it is, but close enough that he can see the camera in their hands.

He leans back and grabs a towel, laying it over your shoulders, covering up the skin you had on display. He wraps a protective arm around you and pulls you closer to his chest, in hopes that the photos he knows will be everywhere in a few days won’t be clear enough to reveal you in them.

That night he decides to cook on the boat, which turns out to be a little more chaotic than he’d originally planned. He struggles to keep everything straight, but finds it all worth it in the end when he gets to see you surrounded by the sunset. You look breathtaking, looking out into the sea. The soft breezes wisps your hair away from your face. The sinking sun casts a gold light to wash over you.

He wants to tell you how he feels, but he knows he needs to come clean. Maybe you’ll forgive him, he hopes you will. He needs to put this in the past so that he can love you publicly and wholeheartedly.

You quietly share your meal, then break the silence simultaneously.

“I have something I need to tell you.”

“Carlos-”

“You first.” He nods.

You take a deep breath. “Carlos, I want to thank you for bringing me here, and really for spending all this time with me. I’m glad you bumped into me at the paddock because I’ve gained a new friend from it. You’re one of the best men I know, and I really appreciate you taking care of me.”

“Thank you.” He feels his chest tighten at your words.

“The truth is, I’ve come to care about you a lot more than I thought I would. A few of the other drivers tried to ask me out when I was first hired, but I told them no. I was happy when you didn’t try to make a move on me, and instead wanted to pursue a friendship with me.” You look down at your hands, and fiddle with your fingers. “But if you did try to make a move on me now… I don’t think I’d mind it…” Your last sentence comes out quieter than the others.

“Really?” Carlos asks, a soft smile growing on his face.

You clear your throat. “What were you going to say?”

He can’t tell you now. He can’t poison this perfect moment, after you’ve confessed your feelings to him.

“I was going to say that I feel the same way.”

[raesquantum]

reprogramming your mindset

warning: this has some specific scientific/psychological terms that may be new to some of you. idk maybe not. 🤷‍♀️

so, if you're on or have ever been on shifttok, you're probably familiar with Reya's reprogramming your mind concept. In theory, I think it's a great idea. however, I'm not a fan of how she promotes the idea. I think there needs to be more emphasis on the repetition part of reprogramming. with a B.A. in psychology, I'm going to give my input/suggestions on how to approach this.

Why Repetition?

First of all, in neuroscience/neuropsychological terms, we need to follow the idea of Hebb's law. To start off with understanding that neural pathways are the channels that send a signal from one area of the brain to another. For the sake of shifting, we're going to be using this with the examples of those pathways being thoughts and beliefs towards shifting.

Hebb's law or Hebb's rule is a concept where a cell consistently activates another nearby cell, because of this; the connection between the two cells becomes stronger. Often referred to as 'cells that fire together, wire together'. The similar idea is birds of the feather flock together.

the idea of repetition of your affirmations or beliefs works with the subconscious to create these new neural pathways. By repeating your affirmations, these thoughts change the 'default' way of your thinking. Which is likely the negative 'I can't shift, I'll never do it', etc etc.

This means the more you repeat it, the more you'll believe it/ingrain it into your subconscious. repeating these positive affirmations for your beliefs (writing or verbally speaking) work to re-carve those pathways and strengthens them into being your new 'default' thinking. It helps to speak these things out loud since it's been proven your brain processes information differently depending on how it is expressed. I.e. when it is spoken, written, or thought in the mind. So try different ways. (personally I like speaking aloud.)

This would also be a good time to start affirming that your beliefs are true. (I.e. saying 'it is true that I shift easily.) this also works with law of assumption.

Emotions

I see a lot of people preaching the idea of using your emotions to help you manifest/shift. And while can be extremely effective, it can also be very detrimental if you're not in the right headspace. To start off, I suggest avoiding emotions altogether with your affirmations. This is because emotions tend to lead us down a rabbit hole/stray us from our original plans. first figure out your affirmations and get used to repeating them before adding emotion.

That being said, emotions are also extremely powerful. emotional experiences leave the strongest imprints on our mind/subconscious. If you do choose to use emotions, use like gratitude, or love, or joy. (these have the highest vibrational energies.)

Having strong emotional engagement will help your subconscious prioritize these affirmations and desires as truth.

Theta/hypnogogia

If you have been around shifting on social media for a while, you're probably familiar with the theta brainwave state. This is a state where we’re in hypnogogia (the state just before falling asleep or just after waking up.) this is often the best time to do any type of affirmations, whether for shifting or manifestation because this is when the subconscious is most susceptible to information.

Repeating the affirmations and when you're ready; engaging emotion, the theta state is the best time to do it. The theta state can act as a bridge into your subconscious.

In the state, repeat your affirmations with emotions. Try to make them your last thoughts before you fall asleep and your first thoughts when you wake up.

It takes time

I know no one wants to hear that it takes time. But you have to be gentle with yourself and your thinking. you need to understand the fact that you are forming new pathways in your mind by developing these new thoughts and beliefs, and therefore, you are literally forming a habit. Habits take time to build. just like you formed a habit by stating and believing negative or limiting beliefs all this time.

Sometimes habits can be formed in as little as three weeks. however, most people take 30 to 90 days to truly form a consistent habit. And in this case, form a new, solid mindset/belief system. HOWEVER, this does not mean that you won't shift, or change your thought pattern sooner. This is just the average amount of time it takes for habits to be built. ultimately, time is irrelevant so long as you build the habit.

I.e. every morning you want to drink an entire glass of water. After a certain point this will be instilled in your routine (your beliefs/thought patterns), and you will just instinctually go to do it.

This is what we want to do to your mind with your affirmations/beliefs of shifting.

So, Step one: find the affirmation(s) that speak to you. repeat these frequently throughout the day (writing, thinking, speaking, singing, etc) and when you go into the theta state.

Some general options:

My subconscious remembers to shift. (this is for when you're in that Theta/hypngognic state and feel like you can't lock in, or just fall asleep)

I believe in my ability to shift/ I can shift.

I find ease in the entirety of shifting

I am a master shifter (though it is best to define specifically what a 'master shifter' looks like to you. then affirm with those beliefs.

tbh you can do whatever affirmations you want, as long as you like those affirmations and stay consistent with the repetition of them.

Step two: Add emotions. This is option to add if and when you feel ready/are in a good space. But be careful not too stray into negative or unwanted emotions. Focus on high vibrational ones, such as gratitude or love.

Step three: repeat these affirmations in your mind or out loud right before falling asleep and right after waking up. Repeating these affirmations while you are still in the theta brainwave state help to increase and strengthen those pathways in your subconscious.

step four: be patient and kind to yourself. Habits take time. so stay consistent and stay determined.

In conclusion, you are altering pre-existing pathways in your subconscious and paving new ones. this is not something that happens overnight, especially when you take into consideration that the first 7 to 14 years of our lives are when our subconscious are built. This process will take time. But not forever.

you are physically altering parts of your brain to accept and believe these new concepts/thoughts. which is kinda cool if you ask me. This also works really well, not just for reprogramming for shifting, but for any types of manifestation. And a popular belief I see on here is that shifting and manifestation are one in the same.

I do agree with Reya's advice on reprogramming (on tiktok) to not try to shift during this time. This is because you're forming new beliefs and a failed attempt can hinder the new subconscious programming that you want.

EITHER WAY... Good luck, happy reprogramming.

[dollbnuuy]

agere headcanon ask game !

seen a few of these go around and i thought i'd try my hands at making my own! just send me a character and a number :) feel free to rb and do this yourself!

how did they find out about age regression? did they stumble upon it online? did a friend tell them about it?

do they have a specific age or range they regress to, or do they just go off vibes?

why do they regress? is it trauma or stress related? do they regress to go back to simpler times, or to create new memories? what causes them to regress?

is their regression more voluntary or involuntary? do they ever regress without realizing it?

do they ever find themselves only regressing partially, or do they fully drop when they regress?

are they a stuffie or a blankie kid? both? neither?

do they have a caregiver? are they a caregiver/flip?

in what ways are they different when they're regressed? do aspects of their personality or interests change at all? are they similar to how they were when they were an actual kid, or completely different?

do they identify with any specific labels (regressor, flip, pet regressor, etc.)?

do they have any regression gear (teethers, pacifiers, diapers, specific toys or outfits, etc.)? do they try to hide it from friends/family?

do they fall into any 'regressor stereotypes' (baby talk, loving disney movies, liking pastels, etc.), or do they diverge from the 'norm' (liking horror media, regressing to an older age, etc.)?

do they have any specific nicknames for when they regress? how about nicknames they've given to their caregiver(s) or friends?

what do they like to do when they're regressed? do they like to play pretend, watch tv/movies, color, etc.?

what kind of snacks/drinks do they gravitate towards when regressed? do they use a sippy cup or bottle? how about those little divider plates/trays?

what do they wear when they're regressed? do they have specific clothes, or do they just wear whatever is most comfortable? do they have a comfort article of clothing?

where do they tend to regress? do they mostly regress at home, at the park, at a specific friend's house? do they have a specific place they like to go once they're regressed?

do they prefer to play indoors or outdoors? do they get upset when it rains?

do they take naps? if so, do they take them at a specific time, or just nap whenever they feel like it? do they get fussy over having to take one?

what kind of things do you associate with their regression? is their a specific aesthetic or general 'vibe' you think suits them and their regression?

what is age regression to them? what do they like/dislike? are they proud of their regression, or feel a bit more insecure about it?

[olderthannetfic]

So, you mentioned low standards of research in podcasts. I don't listen to podcasts or watch a lot of videos about fandom analysis, but I have seen error corrections happening in the wild for what I have listened to, so I can only imagine how annoying it is when you know your shit.

Do you have any resources that come to mind as things everyone who likes fandom should be comfortable with, or specific essays on uniquely important fandoms (such as Sherlock Holmes or Star Trek) that everyone should read? Obviously the OTW resources are up there; what else?

Aside from resources, do you think there are any skills that are especially vital for getting to the bottom of fandom trends? Interview skills are probably pretty high up there.

Any pitfalls you see a lot of young fans falling into?

(I do a lot of fandom history research. It is the thing that gives me joy in fandom; other people like shipping or AUs, I like my little mini-anthropology sandbox and watching how ideas spread. I'm not necessarily good at it, but it's fun!)

--

Well... it's the usual things.

For example, a lot of fans claim to love fandom stats, but the ones that get passed around come from like three people. The people doing those stats, including me, don't usually have a statistics background, which doesn't automatically make them bad, but it really seems like people are just trusting anything with a pie chart.

We've recently seen people discover that those year-end AO3 ship stats have a seriously weird methodology. They don't show the thing their fans are actually trying to find out. People were pissed. But most of the time, they don't even bother asking what the methodology is or trying to do anything themselves.

There's far too much sitting back and waiting for some BNF to spoon feed one publicly-available information.

--

The big failings aren't usually the math itself but, of course, not knowing what question to ask, so it pertains to history research, not just stats.

You'll see a lot of stuff on shipping that looks at AO3 because AO3 shipping numbers are easy to pull... But AO3 shipping numbers don't just happen to be easy to pull: that is both an effect and a cause that is directly related to AO3's content. Someone interested in meta shouldn't be asking "What do AO3's numbers show?" as their first question. They should be asking "Why is this metadata available or not available and what does that mean on a sociological level?"

--

Thing two is the eternal I Have Apparently Never Heard of Anime problem. A fuckton of people theorizing about fandom trends seem to know fucking nothing about whole massive sectors of fandom or treat them as afterthoughts. This is okay if you're writing a history of Media Fandom. It is criminally stupid if you're trying to talk about what makes a piece of media have fic when another doesn't, what kinds of websites make fandoms take off, etc. Those kinds of broad questions need a broad understanding of what's out there.

It's not anime-specific, and I'm not asking for a high degree of knowledge.

I have routinely had people tell me that best friend ships and mystery/crime as a genre aren't popular, and that's why AO3 has this or that pattern... Meanwhile, buddy cops are the bedrock of oldschool slash fandom and make up basically all of the longest-running Western m/m fandoms that aren't Star Trek. CSI slop tends to have legions of future canon het shippers, and they make plenty of fanworks. It's just that some of this is more visible on FFN or older places, not AO3.

I'm always seeing things like someone speculating about how this and that anime fandom thing or bit of mid-00s FFN community drama led to this other thing on AO3, not realizing that AO3 came out of LJ Western fandom slash culture. To them, FFN is so central that it must be the main reference point, not the bajillion and one archives AO3 founders ran or Usenet or mailing lists or LJ.

I once saw someone asking on twitter about where a prominent Ranma fic might have been posted in the mid-90s. People claiming "My professor is an authority!" came out of the woodwork in droves to blither about K/S zines and then LJ. Not only was this entirely wrong, but the right answer was blindingly obvious if you knew enough to interpret the google results. I can only assume that the person tweeting had never heard of Usenet and didn't recognize the acronym for the big anime fanfic group that literally everything like this was first posted to.

I'm talking people insisting that fandom only goes for white characters when it's very obvious that fandom goes for majority leads who are not othered. All the bawwing in the world about "People assume anime characters are white" won't get rid of The Untamed or Kpop thirsters or whatever.

I'm talking sweeping pronouncements about gender and fanfic writers where the person hasn't even heard of FIMFiction or SpaceBattles or Dark Lord Potter cheesefests.

I've been in fandom for a long time, but I wasn't in all these parts, and I wasn't around for 80s zines. You don't need deep knowledge until you pick a research topic. But it's shocking how little shallow, broad knowledge a lot of people have when they're writing their Theory Of All Of Fandom History.

--

People are stupid as shit about survivorship bias, and fandom history is no exception. They're also dumb in the opposite direction, assuming that the thing they like now has always existed in this exact form.

For example, someone got mad at Fanlore for supposedly not documenting the history of f/f zines. Others have searched and searched for the zines of their old show they got into last year and are bewildered to not find any. The reality is that Fanlore editors are attempting to document every Media Fandom zine and have combed through old adzines looking for any mention of anything. Because of the methods of distribution—because it was expensive—small fandoms often had no zines at all.

Femslash fandom doesn't seem to have gotten enough critical mass to do much until Xena. The internet has really democratized things, but even the early internet was still somewhat in that old mindset where only certain popular things have a fandom. I think Yuletide itself, which started in 2003, really helped spread the idea of rare-but-existing fandoms being a thing. FFN and perhaps some other multifandom archives like Media Miner played a huge role.

Nowadays, we think of fic as just how you respond to media, any media, even if there are only two fics for that one car commercial, but that isn't how people saw things in every era—or at least it's not how fandom infrastructure worked. A lot of the time, the big hosting spots were single-fandom archives, often with restrictive content rules. Finding somewhere to post a m/m/f OT3 fic used to be hard. Never mind early zines when photocopiers didn't even exist yet and you had to sell out your print run of 500 to make a go of it.

All good research starts with a lot of preliminary investigation to figure out what you're even trying to look for.

Actually bothering to look for fans talking about their own history or casually chatting with your interview subjects before the formal interview will put a person miles ahead of many of the cringeworthy fandom ~papers~ I've seen.

The biggest mistake people make is going "Okay, these numbers aren't perfect, but some numbers are better than no numbers".

Bullshit.

As soon as there's a pie chart of the false numbers, everyone's brain turns off and they never look at the chart subtitle, never mind the research notes.

Bad numbers are often worse than no numbers.

Look at the logic behind the methodology first. Look at the social context. Basic understanding of human nature and familiarizing oneself with the shape and hangout locations of a community will get you most of the way there before you sit down for a specific interview or try to collect any specific numbers.

--

None of this is a fandom thing. Research is research. It's just that most people think "research" means watching a tiktok that the algorithm likes and were never taught how to evaluate a source for reliability.

Evaluating sources is a skill. I had explicit lessons on it in school. Lots of people don't, and that sucks.

Honestly, watching the more thoughtful debunking content on non-fandom topics, like Miniminuteman's stuff on pseudo-archaeology or Dan Olson's... everything, is a good window into critical thinking, and that's most of what's missing from bad fandom history.

--

But more than any of that, more is more. Not the crap stats, but the narrower, more personal accounts, the interviews. The more fans who investigate their little corner that isn't the same old AO3 site-wide "Why is there so much m/m?" ship stats or the same canned "Everything comes from K/S" history, the better.

What I object to is not amateur efforts but efforts that pull from the same small pool of data or that just reblog a tiny handful of supposed authorities.

--

If people are going to read just one thing... hmm... go try to look up a history of rec.arts.anime.creative, not because I think it's the most important fandom history out there but because it's at the nexus of things a lot of current fandom history work miss.

[valyrfia]

hi i came here from thearchercore where they said that you think there seem to be friendship cliques forming around the paddock as of late like carlando vs. lestappen. i've seen these divides between fans but what makes you think there's also that divide between drivers?

I wouldn't call them friendship cliques. More....workplace alliances regarding the way F1 is going and the way F1 should go.

(Full disclaimer. This is a theory of grid dynamics that's been brewing for a little while in my head and I've only really bounced it off people in dms so far, so feel free to critique or refine it.)

Now, why would these two camps clash? Apart from interpersonal reasons (power struggles at any of the teams for example, I think any of the drivers listed racing or PR would resent being labelled as the team's n2 driver), F1 itself as a sport is at a crossroads. We're seeing the obvious effect of DTS in popularising the sport and making these athletes world-famous. In the past, only the world champions really became world-renowned. Now, most drivers are massive social media stars, or even proper A-list celebrities in their own right (Daniel at the Met Gala, for example). This one one hand is brilliant for the sport, because it brings more attention and eyes, and F1 becomes far more popular than it ever has been in the past. Liberty media especially is fond of this, as it brings in more profit for them.

However, in a lot of ways quintessential aspects of racing are lost via appealing to the masses. We see this in the removal of traditional purpose-built tracks in the calendar to make way for street races, in team line ups prioritising the PR-friendliness of a driver much more than before. The question of can the individual personalities of these drivers be sold is now a much bigger factor when considering a line up now than it was even ten years ago.

Since the question of racing vs. PR is raging in F1 in general right now, I think there's natural battle lines being drawn up in the paddock at the moment, that seem to fall along drivers which prioritise racing results over PR, and drivers that rely on PR/sponsors to boost their image without the racing results to necessarily back it up. Let's call them the racing clique vs. the PR clique for simplification.

Furthermore, I think these battlelines are drawn between teammates more often than not. So for example, I'd say Oscar tends to fall into the racing clique, Lando the PR clique (because let's be frank, his level of hype in British media especially WITHOUT a grand prix win is a little ridiculous). Likewise, if we consider our once and future RBR teammate pair, Max is the racing, Daniel the PR.

Ferrari is a little trickier because Charles is a PR mastermind and plays the PR game well in order to manipulate public perception about him. However, I will say that above all Charles has a fair estimation of his own abilities, an incredible racing IQ, and a sharp hunger to win that shines through despite the scrupulous Ferrari PR training (lest we forget the origin of the Il Predestinato name). For this reason, I think I place him in the racing camp. Considering the way that the Sainz camp uses leaks, well-timed sympathy posts, and Carlando to boost the public perception of Carlos's racing ability, I would place Carlos in the PR camp.

There are also other natural flash tensions between these people, but from Lando and Daniel distancing themselves from Max post his Vegas derogatory comments (@tsarinablogs has written some good thinkpieces on this), to the Ferrari civil war (as currently being chronicled by @thearchercore, along with some pretty good evidence as to McLaren trying to copy Ferrari's contract renewal hype, which further puts Lando and Charles into conflict). I don't think the happy go lucky Landoscar dynamic will survive McLaren being a competitive car, especially if Oscar wins a grand prix before Oscar.

There are faultlines and flashpoints forming in the paddock, and I think that especially with the incoming silly season, this question of PR vs. racing when picking drivers will be thrown into haut relief and that'll serve to only heighten the natural and/or pre-existing tensions between these two different groups of people.