#and then got stuck on the desire to be Good at it and earn the praise of his teacher

[noxexistant]

it’s so not feasible in literally any universe but the concept of morris doing ballet still possesses me body and soul

[melioraskz]

Rather be your whore than a noble man’s wife.

A/N : I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately… this wasn’t based on anything in particular and is definitely not historically accurate, this is just another universe LOL!

Warning : brief mention of SA, mentions of whores, homophobia (not by any of the characters, just mentioned in a backstory!), giving head (female receiving), tiny hint of overstimulation, almost caught in the act, probably forgot something lol ! NOT PROOFREAD !!!

(Pirate) Han Jisung x (afab) Reader

Summary : After being captured by a gang of bandits you get saved by a mysterious man called Jisung, what you don’t know is that he is in fact something your parents always warned you for, a pirate.

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“Stay away from me!”

“Wow wow wow little lady, relax. I’m not going to harm you” the man in front of you said with his hands up in the air in surrender despite the small yet devilishly sharp knife still laid between his thumb and index finger.

“Do you want my help or not?” He asked, raising a brow as he looked at you up and down.

“I’ve got everything under control, thank you very much” you spat back, sighing deeply as you try to once again squirm out of the tight robe that was around your body and hands.

Everything was in fact not under control. There you were, bound to the pole, hands tied behind your back and hair stuck to your face with the sweat from your forehead, breathing heavy with your dress half cut up by the bandits who took you capture. Despite their desperate tries you had manage to keep them away from you enough for them to not take it further than some disgusting groping and touched here and there. However despite your deadly looks you shot their way it couldn’t take away the looks of desire they shot in your direction as another one tried to cut off a button of your blouse…

The aggravating man who had jumped on board of the ship all cocky started to whistle as he sat up on the edge of the boat, carelessly taking the knife and removed some dirt under his finger nails. “Just let me know when you need my help, missy” he sung, acting all nonchalantly as if he wasn’t also on a bandit ship, all alone against the 30 men that could show up any second. Not that you had any hope that he would survive one of the men for that matter. They were all buff, scary with scars everywhere, you could tell they were up to no good. This guy? He was skinny, lanky built, curly brown hair and despite his aura feeling like he would be a big man… he was quite a short guy.

“Fine, just get me out of here before they come back” you mutter, the guy looking up at you, stopping mid-through the melody he was whistling. Then he shook his head and his lips left a few of tsk tsk tsk to show his displeasure. “What sort of lady are you? Not even a simple please? I’ve met whores down at the red district with more charm and politeness than you” he stated and rose a brow. That awful awful cockiness would drive you mad but you were desperate.

“Please can you help me out of these fucking ropes? I’m not planning on becoming these bandits slave or sex toy” you state, earning a pleased smirk by the mysterious guy who by ease jumped down from the edge and walked up to you. He then easily cut off the rope using the knife before he put it back into the holder in his belt.

“There we go, now I suggest we leave before those idiots come back” he says, a smug smile on his lips. Within a second you had stepped away from the damn pole, singing deeply as you rubbed your previously tied up wrists with your hands to ease the irritation that the rope had caused. “Thanks” you sigh, walking over to the edge and looked out at the dock, multiple ships stood there and you could hear the muffled sounds of parties and people if you looked out to the town ahead of you… “where even are we?” You sigh, not sure where they had taken you, surely from the accent of the man it was far away from your home…

“Welcome to Incheon city, ma’am! The place filled with dreams, nightmares, whores, pirates and a great amount of cheap alcohol” the man burst out, now somehow standing on the edge walking around as if it wasn’t a 10 meter drop down to the ice cold water below. “Oh fuck! I’m Jisung, by the way, Han Jisung” he added. “It’s nice to meet you, what’s your name?” He asked proudly.

You were about to answer when you heard a voice behind you.

“She has escaped!” A roaring man’s voice yelled as he had climbed up the ladder on the other side. You remembered that man very well, after all he had tried to fuck you at least seven times since your capture a few days ago. Along with him came 4 others, you look back at Jisung with panicked eyes, but you were met by a pair of awfully calm ones. He let out a sigh in displeasure, almost as if he thought the whole ordeal were just bothersome.

“Alright boys, let’s say after me” Jisung started, grabbing one of the robes that the bandits used to climb up to the watch tower. “If you are despite to get a quick fuck, go to a whore house, not kidnap someone” he then continued, cutting the rope off with the knife he had previously used on the ropes that had you tied up. Then before the men could reach you he swung in the rope, using his legs and made 2 of the men fall to the ground in a loud groan. That’s when he grabbed both of the men’s revolvers, tossing one of them to you, which you catch in pure panic. Looking at the man, he easily got all men on the floor, despise them being twice his weight. “Close those pretty eyes for me, pretty lady” Jisung instructed, as if it was an instinct you did exactly like he said and as soon as your eyelids had fallen down so all you saw was darkness the ship echoed with a shot, another another, another and-

“All done, missy” a voice said, opening your eyes you saw the men’s lifeless bodies on the wooden floor, blood painting the deck that poured out of their head. It wasn’t the first time you had ever encountered a dead body before but it was certainly the first time seeing so much blood at the same time, despite being outside you swore you could smell the stench of iron in the red dark liquid ahead of you. Jisung however didn’t give you the luxury to take in the scene for more than a few second, he had other plans. He grabbed the rope he had used before and swung in it, grabbing your waist as you let out a screech, holding onto him with all dear might. You were certain you’d fall straight into the ice cold water below but before you could think twice you felt your feet hit a steady familiar sensation. You open your eyes you had no clue that you even closed in the first place and there you were, still holding onto the man with all your might but standing on the ground below…

“We should leave before more men come back and notice the tiny little mess I caused on their ship” he stated, you realise how damn close he was to your body… your heart beating fast in your chest, perhaps it was the adrenaline of being rescued or seeing the dead bodies that flooded through you, perhaps it was for the fact that this bold man had laid his hands on you and it wasn’t for the wrong intentions, at least that’s what you thought it was?

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

The music was loud, people chit chattering even louder, women with dresses that enhances the chest area was practically fucking some men in the corners. But after what you went through? The dodgy bar that Jisung took you to was a luxury hotel from what you had been dealing with capture at that ship…

You get snapped out of your thoughts with about bang, in front of you stood now a large pint of beer, fizzing and foaming up to the edges. Jisung then sat down and took a large chunk of his own pint he still held in his hand. “There we go, don’t worry, the beer is on me. I figured you’d need it after that whole experience. I doubt those shitheads knows how to feed a lady” he stated, chuckling a bit, using the other chair next to him as a stand for his feet as he let out a groan in relief. “Now, what was that name of yours? I didn’t get catch it last time”

“My name?”

“Your name”

“Oh, right. It’s Y/N, Y/L/N Y/N” you whispered. When you said your surname you saw how Jisung choked on his beer, almost spitting it out again in shock. He hit his chest repeatedly until the beer had gone down the right pipe again.

“Fucking hell? As in the Y/L/N-clan? You’re their daughter? You’re a fucking high class noble woman! How the fuck did you end up captured by them then? Isn’t that miles and miles away?” He asked. Looking at you with huge eyes, the foam of the beer had given him a light moustache. You let out a slight giggle from the look on his face, then you take a big chunk of your own beer.

“I ran away, they set you marry me away 4 days ago, that night I couldn’t take it, I hated that old man they set me up with, he was at least three times my age but the wallet weight more than my family’s love for me I suppose. What I didn’t calculate for was that I’d be captured in the middle of the night by those men who had no idea who I was, so they said they’d keep me as their whore, slave or both. I sailed stuck to that pole until this evening, so thank you for saving me, I wish I could repay you but I don’t have anything of worth on me” you whispered, feeling a flood of guilt flush over you, he had saved your life and you couldn’t even repay him?

“I’m not asking for a payment, Y/N. I saved you because I felt like it, not from the goodness of my heart, not from whatever your noble brain can come up with, I saved you because I was bored and saw you on their deck. Alright? No need to pay me” he stated. Crossing his feet over the other on the chair next to him.

“But there must be something-“

“Enough. I don’t need anything I promise, we’re alright” he said quickly. Looking directly into your eyes. You could feel your heart beat faster again… it could possibly not be adrenaline now, right? For sure he is handsome, but is he even your type? Do you even have a type?

“So what will happen with you now? I’d say get a new dress is your first option, you can’t walk around with your tits almost hung out unless you want someone to accuse you for being a whore” Jisung stated, which made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You quickly tried to gather the material that was left from what the men had cut off, looking down at your ripped and ruined clothings...

“I have no money and nowhere to go, but do not worry about me, I’ll find a way” I say calmly, smiling in a reassuring manner, even if you were terrified. When you had ran away from home you had no plan, you just knew you had to get out of there before it was too late…

“I may have an old dress or two for you to get, neither of my mates will mind, it’s not like they walk around in a skirt ever..”

“Your mates?”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Your chest was beating faster than ever, you felt like you’d pass out any moment…

“You’re a pirate?”

Your entire life your parents had warned you about the pirates that hunted the seven seas. They took what they wanted, murdered, fucked the women and ran off, your father had always said if you ever had the displease of coming a cross a pirate run away and don’t look back before you call the local sheriff. Perhaps if you had heard about this before he rescued you, you’d agree to your father’s words but now? Especially after spending a couple hours with the man you had come to quite enjoy his company. A sexy man who seemed charming enough with perhaps a bit too big of an ego than you’d like, how could he be such a criminal? Being a pirate is a death sentence if you get caught, you won’t even get a trial? Why would this man choose this path of life?

“What did you expect?” Jisung asked in an amused tone as he practically carried you up the rope to his ship, placing you down on the edge of the ships railing, letting you sit there as he climbed on the other side and then carried you bridal style over to the deck where he sat you down carefully.

“I thought you-“

“Were a man of honour and prosperity? Ma’am you’ve come to the wrong place if you’re looking for a hero or a good man” he stated as he fumbled up a key that was hooked on a piece of string around his neck underneath his shirt. He then unlocked the giant trap door leading to the inside of the ship. You both climb down there, you were met by the stench of rum and seawater which made you make a slight grimace.

“We should have some women’s clothing down here from when we raided this noble family all the way in Busan. Like fuck you should have seen those dumb posh faces when-“ he stopped himself, realising that you may take offence by his harsh words about the upper class since he now knew you were upper class as well. “Sorry..”

“No offence taken. To be quite frank, there is a reason I left that place, no money in the world could make me feel happy in that hell. I may have lived in a mansion but that mansion was a jail impossible to break out of in my eyes” you say, sighing deeply as you start to look around through bits and bobs that was scattered around the room. “To be honest I’m envying you. You’re free, away from responsibilities, marriage, birthing children, preferably sons and don’t even get me started on the dreadful gatherings, all the noble ladies wanted to speak about was money of men. I’m tired of it..” you say, slowly turning to a desk with a bunch of documents and paper on it, on the top of a shelf that stood right above the desk was a picture in a frame of 8 young men next to the very ship they were in right now, you could easily pick out where Jisung were despite the low resolution of the picture, with his arm around one of the other guys with a huge smile on his mouth.

“That’s my crew, you see the one with the hat is our leader, or captain, Chan is his name. It started when him and I met all the way in Australia where we stole this glory out of some poor bastard who used it for the queens guards, we decorated it and then before we could leave Australia we met this poor bloke called Felix who joined us” Jisung explained, then pointing at a guy with long bright hair who was winking with one eye. “He already had a huge penny on his head at home after his father found out he was a homosexual, we took him in, we don’t give a fuck who he sticks his dick inside, he is our brother nonetheless” he stated.

“That’s very beautiful if you ask me. You claim to be a bad person but a bad person wouldn’t do that” you explained slowly, looking at him, realising he stood right behind you, with his head almost hanging over your shoulder so that he also could view the old frame, you slowly chew on the inside of your cheek… he really was handsome for a pirate… Han clear his throat before he continues, slowly feeling a bit unease by her words, why would a lady like her truly find him, a criminal, that good?

“Well we figured as we were going to be pirates we already would have a straight way to the gallons if caught, adding hiding a gay man on the list didn’t seem too bad” Jisung stated, looking at you for a few seconds before his eyes quickly turn to the picture again.

“And that’s Seungmin and Jeongin, we met them finally enough at that raid in Busan, they joined us quickly, they’re young but extremely fun and always tells the best stories when we are up late at night around a campfire” he explains with a slight smile. “Oh and that’s Changbin, Hyunjin and Minho. Minho is second captain after Chan, he is also the head cook, probably the only one of us that can actually cook well. Changbin is also the fastest at climbing ropes you’ll ever see! I swear we have accused him of being a witch at least fourteen times!” He explained, smiling at himself as he thought of his dear friends. “And a little secret, we are fairly sure that Felix has had sex with Hyunjin before, we don’t know when but there is something with the way they act…However, whenever we try to get some information out of them they bulge, what a dumb bunch for thinking we’d judge them” he explained and laughed. “They’re all dumb but… they’re the only family I have left”

“Where are they now then?” You ask, realising you hadn’t even seen a trace of any of the said men since you entered the ship.

“Oh they’re in town, probably getting fucked up with all the alcohol, that was my plan too until… yeah” Jisung admitted. “I’m sorry for ruining your plans, Jisung” you sigh as you quickly turn around, face as close as it could be without touching from each other, his eyes looking almost black in front of you due to the lack of light in there… your heart racing faster and faster, he was dangerously close to you, with one hand resting on the shelf behind you, trapping you between the desk and his body…

“Trust me… I’m glad I had my plans changed, otherwise I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting you” Jisung whisper, you can feel his breath against your skin, keeping you eyes at him you slowly placed one hand on his chest that was slightly exposed due to the buttons he had unbuttoned. You swore you could see a slight smirk on his lips perk up. You could feel his hand that wasn’t against the shelf behind you travel to your lower back in a firm get gentle grip.

Before you could even think of what you were doing, you kissed him. You didn’t know what went through your head fuck you liked it. You could taste the beer you had previously had in your mouth as the kiss progressed, deepening and becoming more rough as you became familiar with each other. He hadn’t even questioned it as he had kissed you back the moment your lips met his.

The kiss was hot, breathy, yet you felt more relaxed with this man than you had ever done with a man at home. You felt how his hand that was on the shelf met your hip on the opposite side as the other before he easily lift up up and placed your ass on the table behind you. Then for a moment he broke the kiss before his mouth traveled along your mouth down to your neck and collarbone. You let a moan slip through your lips, the only sound echoing through the walls was the sounds of your heavy breaths along with whatever sound the sea could make from the shore.

His mouth leads its way back to yours, unable to stay away from it for too long. You let your tongue run over his bottom lip and he opens his mouth for you. When you feel his tongue meet yours, blistering electricity shocks down your spine in pure lust. You kiss him harder, his tongue mapping out every inch of yours as if he is in search of the lost treasure in there. He pulls your legs apart so he can stand right between them, feeling his body pressed against yours. You let his hands roam your body, then as he grabs some of the poor material that still held your chest in decent coverage and you hear a loud skrratch. That fucker tore it! As if it was barely anything to tore anyways… his hands cupped your breasts, breathing heavy into your mouth. His hands was fucking cold, but oh it felt so good. He then stop kissing you for a moment, looking into your eyes as both tried to desperately catch your breaths. The tension was electrifying.

“Can I fuck you?” He ask out of the blue after a few seconds of being silence.

As the words left his mouth it took you by a surprise, asking that question when your tits was already free for him when you had willingly had him like this. Almost a comedic moment and a rather funny timing on his part. Instead of answering you grabbed his shirt, giving him a wet kiss on the mouth. He took that sentence as a yes.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

You had never met a pirate before, let alone fucked one. But there you were. He had somehow managed to move you from the desk to the floor. His shirt tossed somewhere along the way along with his trousers. Your upper part of the dress torn a long time ago but your long skirt still intact, him? He was under your skirt between your legs, licking long stripes on your pussy, holding his strong hands around your thighs, partly for keeping you from closing them around him, partly because himself needed something to hold on to.

Your moans echoed through the room, your legs trembling as you covered your upper part of the face with your hand, moaning louder. His mouth doing wonders down there as you were slowly feeling like you’ll reach your peak any moment now.

“I’m gonna cum, Jisung” you breathe out, heavy breaths making it almost impossible for you to say a full sentence.

“Then cum for me, darling” he growled from under your skirt, a loud slap echoed as you felt his hand slap ass. That slap was almost like the last thing you needed, you felt the knotting feeling in your lower stomach build up to the point where it overflow. You let out a breath of pleasure as you came, breathing heavy as you tried to catch your breath. You felt how Jisung kept licking up every single drop of you, feeling your legs turn into jelly as you tried to catch your high along with handling the overstimulation happening.

That’s when you heard it…

“Why is it unlocked?”

“I don’t know”

Then you heard a click, they’re loading their revolver…

Jisung knew that voice extremely well, so the panic arose even faster. He quickly got out of your skirt, his lips glossy from your fluids. “Fuck fuck fuck” he whispered, trying to gather his clothes.

“Guys it’s just me” he yelled, hoping if they were faster than him it would lead to at least them not being shot. That’s when he also tossed one of the dresses he promised you your way, quickly trying to put on his trousers. You act fast as well, doing everything in your power to get the damn dress on and you threw the old dress into a pile of hay in the corner. If you had more time to think perhaps it would be more melodramatic, throwing away the last piece of your old life as if it was nothing. But now? You had no time to think.

You signalled to the halfway dressed man to help you with the zipper in the back. Jisung went right into action, rushing over to you, managing with a trembling hand to get the zipper up right in time for…

“Who’s that?” A voice Said, you remembered him from the picture, that’s Chan, the captain.

“Oh!” Jisung said, clearing his throat, quickly wiping his mouth from whatever excess that was left from you. “This is Miss Y/N. I.. I- uh-“ Jisung said in panic, not sure how to explain to his captain what the fuck he had been doing down here. “I-I was lending her one of our dresses, it’s not like we use them right? I accidentally ruined hers by dropping beer on it” he lies, giving the captain a half sided smile. “But now as you can see she is in the dress so I’ll just go ahead and help her off the ship, thanks” he said and practically pushed you up the ladder to the deck of the ship, leaving the confused captain to wonder what the hell he just witnessed.

“D-Do I really have to go?” You ask slowly, looking at him under the moonlight, a light breeze making his hair blow in the wind… you felt a lump in your stomach again, not like last time, this time you knew… you didn’t wanna leave him.

“W-Well we sail at dawn and perhaps you should find a new place to stay and-“

“Can’t I stay with you?”

“Y/N… I can’t ask that of you? You’ll become a criminal, a whore in the eye of law?” He say, his eyes giving such soft look yet so much pain behind them at the idea of you perhaps leaving for good… you slowly walk up to him, placing one hand on his cheek, making him look at you… he had shown you more humanity, more freedom and lust within these few hours you’d known him than anyone else… you knew you had to stay here…

“I rather be your whore than a noble man’s wife” you whisper, looking into his eyes, seeing how the pain in his eyes flood away and replace with happiness as he grabs your waist, lifts you up and spin you two around, letting out a loud laugh of happiness. You let out a screech and held onto his shoulders tightly as he spun you in case he would drop you, not that he ever would… As he sit you down again he remove his hands form your waits and cups your cheeks like you cupped his a moment ago, placing a couple chaste kisses on your mouth.

“Oh this is” kiss “going to be” kiss kiss “fucking great!” Kiss kiss kiss “I’ll show you the world, I’ll show you what real freedom is”

You couldn’t answer before you heard a voice. You look over at the trapdoor where Chans head stuck out, he held up the dress from the haystack between two fingers.

“Uh, guys? I thought you said it had beer on it, not that you ripped it apart..”

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[dumbbitchgalore]

Bringing out the horny in Old man!Price at his retirement party 💦

This is the day that made him feel old as fuck. A retirement party at 45 although his bones preface by saying that they are in their 70s. It’s safe to say that being a SAS soldier has taken quite a toll on the poor man.

And the worse pain of all, being diagnosed with erectile dysfunction at 40. How could his body be so selfish and do something like that to him, especially since he’s got you to keep happy.

Once again, the universe was turning its back on him like a big ‘fuck you’ as John enters his midlife crisis. Now, you on the other hand did not give a flying fuck about his erectile dysfunction. In fact, it made you love him even more!

You adore his useless cock. Cock warming is amazing with his limp dick resting inside of you occasionally twitching every once in a while making you burst with satisfaction and not to mention blowjobs. It’s heavenly to have his useless cock stuffed in your mouth and you wouldn’t have it any either way.

Tonight, John had a scowl on his face as he sipped his beer. Coming up from behind, you hug him tightly earning a chuckle from John and a hand resting on top of yours.

"Come." You simply state, nuzzling into his back.

John cranes his head to the side as he watches you from his peripheral view. "Where?"

"Just come with me." You chide jokinging, pulling him by his hand and making him follow you.

Taking him to his office, you lock the door behind you. John cocks an eyebrow at your actions but you simply shrugs as a response.

Sauntering over to him, you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek tenderly. Remaining skeptical, John scoffs confused at to what you're doing.

You sense his hesitation and kiss his lips softly, "Let me treat my Captain to a job well done."

John sees the twinkle in your eyes, your desire to make him feel good on a day that he's dreaded for so long. However, he shakes his head, massaging your shoulders.

"How about I make my Birdie feel good, hm?" He says.

"Why?" You whisper.

Trailing his hand down the side of your arm, he brings you close as he pulls you flush to him by your wrists.

"Because..." He begins to speak.

"Because you've put up with my stubborness."

Kiss

"You've played nurse for all the times I came home injured or hungover."

Kiss

"You're more than I deserve,"

Kiss

"You're stuck with my idiotic arse."

Kiss

"And most of all, you haven't flown away yet."

Your whines and gasps are engulfed by his onslaught of open-mouth kisses. Tongues swirling around, fighting one another for power.

John pulls away looking into your eyes.

"Open your mouth, Petal." He commands huskily.

You nod, tilting your head up as you open your mouth. John slowly lets his spit dribble into your mouth. It tasted like John, tasted like perfection. Metallic and acidic.

Keeping eye contact, you swallow all of it before open your mouth showing proof of your obediance. John hums in atisfaction.

"Slag." He mutters, pushing you onto the couch before hiking your dress up and ripping your lacy panties off, earning an annoyed huff for the now ruined article of clothing.

John groans, kneeling down in between your legs as he shoves his nose into your soaping pussy, your juices slighting coating his nose. He inhales deeply taking in the sweet smell of your sex.

"What a pretty, wet cunt you've got here, Birdie." He coos, giving your clit a harsh flick as you yelp at the familiar sensation as John chuckles.

"Reactive too."

He flattens his tongue across your slit, gathering your arousal on the tip of his tongue, poking and proding your hole as his thumb plays with your clit.

Your legs rest on top of his shoulders, giving him a better access to your cunt. Soon enough the room is filled with your moans and mewls as your mind becomes a haze from the pleasure your man is giving you.

John groans like a straved man against your folds as he satiates his thirst with your essence. Your thighs clamp around his head as you lock him into place with now mercy of withdrawing from his own ministrations.

Letting out a low chuckle, he looks up at you through his lashes. Cerulean eyes mirroring the same lust that coarsed through your veins.

"You better cum on face, Birdie or else I won't let you cum at all."

[acaibcwl]

“ hidden bots ” a bot for all my shadow banned bots.

derek morgan

babygirl attitude — in which when he tells you good morning, and you don’t reply back with the usual, depraving him of his morning flirt comments. making him oh so bound and determined to dig into what was wrong, because the behavior had to be considered straight out bratty. what else would it classify as? not bratty? no.

real man — after a date stood you up at a bar, one of the worst places to be stood up at, swooped in derek to lift your mood. which if he said so himself, he was better than that other man. you knew each other better. therefore making it way more relaxing then meeting some man off of that shitty dating website.

sweet moments like these — when it came to cases like ones involving children, or any case in general, which you knew took a toll on him mentally because although you weren’t apart of the bau or any law involved system, you understand the depth of the cases. so when he had a particularly long three days in another city, all he wanted to do was to get home to his girl and his dog(clooney)

baby fever — you had this long desire of wanting to have a kid, but derek’s just not ready. the spiking period of wanting a baby usually happened between your ovulation period. except—this time, seeing you so disappointed you looked, he had to tell you something. that he would think about it.

spencer reid

chess — chess was your least favorite board game. but between that and card games, playing chess on a plain ride to and back to a city were one of the most comforting things ever. although spencer made it so miserable. if you thought you were a head, he would pull a move and you weren’t. you couldn’t outsmart him, even with thinking outside the box.

finnick odair

mutts — he could’ve swore the mutts got him. but it was like completely whiplash when he woke up in the infirmary. bandaged up. surrounded by machines he wasn’t sure what they were for, completely relieved when he saw your pretty familiar face

lovers quarrel — just your luck, after winning the games, your back in. which is a nightmare in it’s self. but now your stuck with your once unrequited, mutual pinning love? the one who gave you up to be the capitol’s golden boy. of course you would never be understand why he gave you up. but it never meant it hurt less. and the only reason you in the mess is because you didn’t wan mags getting hurt. because she meant everything to finnick.

eric coulter

stiff — of course you were bound to have a hard time. you came from abnegation, earning the infamous name of ‘stiff’ although eric seemed to have a personal vendetta against you for whatever reason. maybe it was more than that and you couldn’t see that. but that was definitely untrue with the way he nit picked at everything you did.

[dearest-nell]

a real piece of art

e.m x reader, 2.8k

summary: eddie has some time to kill, and you might just be his new favourite distration. includes: art history student!reader, meet cute, eddie's an absolute dork warnings: mentions of nudity in artwork and allusions to a young eddie who is very excited by the prospect.

a/n: this came to me as i stared blankly into the void of my coffee machine this morning. i'm incapable of proofreading as per usual. i could be convinced to do a part two

Eddie had no business being here. This was an art gallery for crying out loud! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped in one, save that one unfortunate field trip in middle school where he’d been caught ogling a half naked sculpture in front of half the class. Sue him, he’d never seen a naked girl before, and he really had to give credit to the artist because he couldn’t look away. He’d been called a perv for a good year after that, and he’d never thought to visit another gallery again. 

Until now, that was. He was due for a practice and soundcheck in what he thought was only an hour, but somewhere along the line Jeff had got the time wrong, leaving Eddie stuck in Chicago with nothing but his ego to keep him company. Eddie had kicked himself for the mistake – who rehearses at 10 am anyways? There was a silent agreement that Gareth would be handling the bookings next time, where Eddie might be able to actually stay in bed until a reasonable hour. 

He’d thought to burrow down in a cafe for a little while, but the snooty businessmen and shrill giggles of the barista had sent him fleeing. The environment wasn’t conducive to good thinking anyways. He figured a little solace would do him some good, maybe give him some hard earned inspiration to turn into music for the band. So with coffee in hand, he’d taken to the streets, wandering idly as the strings of bodies moved in tandem, dodging and weaving the tracks of Tuesday morning commutes. It might have been enough for him had his jacket not been too thin for the sudden drop in temperature. Worn denim with steamed patches was hardly enough to break the piercing gusts of wind, and even his sweltering coffee in hand could not keep his hands from shaking. Looking around, Eddie felt out of luck. Cafe’s seemed too busy, and he had no real desire to start wandering shops nearby, so what was there left to do? 

$14 later, Eddie puffed a relieved sigh as the warmth of the gallery enveloped him, that trembling cold slowly dissipating from his veins until his hands no longer felt like ice. He figured he’d have taken any sanctuary, though he had been hoping maybe for a Library. At least then he could have bunkered down somewhere with a book. What did you even do at a gallery anyways?  He didn’t see much point in wandering around, scanning his eyes over paintings that seemed a million years old. He didn’t get art. Music was his art, after all. Even as he started to walk, all the pieces seemed to bleed together for him. Acrylics and oils and gouache melted into the blur of faces and places and things. Sure, they looked pretty, but Eddie couldn’t see why anyone would waste their time to sit and paint something like this, let alone stare at it for hours. 

He passed through room after room like this, brows furrowed, arms crossed as he tried to puzzle out the meaning. Music and melody had meaning, lyrics filled with the words people couldn’t seem to say any other way. The sounds of instruments were sounds of heartbeats, of head rushes and blood flow and heart aches and burning desires – paintings couldn’t do that, could they? 

Wandering into a smaller room, Eddie found himself caught as his eyes fixated on perhaps the only worthwhile piece of art he had seen all morning. There you were, perched somewhat uncomfortably on the plush leather seat in the room's centre, head resting delicately into cupped palms, your elbows propping you up into a figure he was sure was only meant for statues. You looked like one of the Greek ones, he thought, all soft and graceful curves, pretty lines and prettier expressions. There was a notebook in your lap, though Eddie couldn’t begin to make out what the blurry pen strokes might have  noted at this distance. 

You seemed so lost in thought as you stared at the piece directly before you, eyebrows knitted in concentration to match the deep set focus of your eyes, and Eddie, despite himself, was lost in you. 

It was a horrifying notion to realise he was back in this same situation again, entirely different and yet all the same. Here he was, stuck motionless, staring helplessly at something beautiful, something entirely foreign to him. Naked breasts had been enough to melt a twelve year old Eddie’s mind, but this Eddie, now grown, was entirely transfixed for another reason. Never in his life had just looking at a person knocked the wind right out of him. This was beyond attraction, he thought. Beyond a pretty face and a beautiful body and all those hormones that made people spin. You were all of that, and so much more. 

How he knew that seemed entirely out of reach, but the thought settled in him all the same. 

Eddie watched the subtle angle of your head, the way you tried to see from a different perspective, before fixating your attention on your notebook once more, scribbling away furiously at stained parchment. 

All better judgement seemed to leave him as he approached, slow and long strides to avoid the echoes of boots against floorboards in such vastness. His body took residence beside the lounge, standing tall at the opposite end, arms crossing as he tried to see what it was that had you so fascinated. 

Cheese. Bread. Nuts of some kind. He tilted his head as you had, browns furrowing in confusion. Still cheese. Still bread. Still nuts of some kind. He let out a defeated huff. 

“Are you okay?” 

He hadn’t expected you to speak, let alone notice him, but when he turned his chin towards you he was met with a curious expression. You were even more captivating up close, as it turned out, so much so that he could not decide what captured his attention more. The soft bags of sleepless nights hung low under your eyes, your cheeks flushed with a dusty sort of colour that only the artifice of candies could achieve, your cheeks indented so delicately with the lines of so many smiles that had come before. 

It was embarrassing in his eyes that he was still gawking, and even more embarrassing that you had to ask your question a second time. 

“Oh– yeah. I mean… yeah. Sorry. Was I being too loud?” 

The soft shake of your head was accompanied by an even gentler smile, and Eddie felt his shoulders ease a fraction away from his ears. 

“No, not at all. Just seemed like a forlorn sigh.” You pointed out, uncrossing your legs to lower your feet to the ground. 

Eddie’s brow raised, his tone lilting with amusement. “Forlorn, huh?” 

You shrugged, though Eddie could see the slow creep of embarrassment flush your cheeks, your hand lifting to rub at it absentmindedly. “Yeah, I guess. It was just the first word that came to mind.” 

Eddie was smiling before he knew what he was doing. “I like it. Forlorn. Like it’s from a poem, or something.” 

A soft hum of contemplation fell from your lips, your pen scratching nervously in the margins of your notebook, patterns of stars falling into the sea of words below. “Could be. Poets are meant to be all crestfallen and stuff.” 

He actually laughed at that, something sounding like a punched out breath leaving him, his eyes crinkling delightfully at the corners. 

“Are you a writer or somethin’? You don’t just hear people saying words like that every day. Gotta know them by trade.” 

You shrugged again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the curve of your ear. “Student, actually. Art history, so I guess fancy words are part of the curriculum.” 

It seemed strange to be meeting you like this, like someone high above had heard his complaints only to send him an angel to set him straight. An art student; maybe you could teach him a thing or two. 

Eddie gestured to the seat beside you, flat palm dampened nervously at the prospect of speaking to someone so pretty, so much more learned than him. You nodded shyly, not bothering to adjust as he took up the empty space beside you, his elbows propping on his knees for comfort. 

“Can I ask you something, then? Since all of this is your thing.” 

You closed your notebook, folding your legs beneath you once more as you fixated your attention on him – something Eddie was sure no man could ever tire of wanting from you. “Sure”. 

“Why are you staring at this one? Out of all the pictures in this place, what makes cheese so interesting.” 

The astonished little chuckle that left you was something sacred, golden and warm and louder than he had anticipated. You could put that laugh to song. Maybe he would. 

“It’s not the cheese,’ You clarify, your smile never shifting from your lips, “though it looks great, doesn’t it? Looks real.” 

Eddie took in the piece once more, letting his eyes trace over the food to take in the finer details. It was true; it looked real. He could see the shadows, the cracks in the bread, the crumbs that had fallen onto the platter below. He realised it mustn’t have been easy to make something so real. It felt like a snapshot. 

Oh fuck, do I get art now? 

“Yeah, it looks real. Kinda crazy real, actually. How do they get it looking like that?” 

“It’s different for different people. This one’s by Peeters, and no one’s sure where she learned to paint, but she was one of the only female professionally working artists of the 17th century. She was a big deal.” 

Eddie tilted his head towards you. “Is that why you like her, then?” 

You shook your head, scrunching up your nose. “It’s very impressive, but it’s not the only reason. I was looking for her signature.” 

Eddie did not need to clarify himself, the confusion that etched across his face spoke volumes, leaving you to laugh again in amusement. 

“A lot of artists leave signatures so you know a work is theirs. Sometimes it’s their name, or an item, or a seal – sometimes it’s on the back, sometimes it’s made to look part of the picture. She writes her name down at the bottom, see?” 

You leaned in a little closer to Eddie, lining up his gaze with your own so you could point out a flourish of cursive in the corner. Drawn into you, Eddie could not help but lean into your orbit, his eyes following the line of your finger to its destination. “Oh yeah. Musician’s do that too, y’know. Chuck in a riff or a line or something to leave their mark.” 

“Seems like it’s an artist's thing. I think it’s pretty cool.” 

Eddie liked the insinuation that musicians were artists. He’d met too many people in his life who’d thought otherwise, who did not understand the value of art. He supposed he was one of them, though. He’d been ratting on the art around him only five minutes earlier. 

“You like music, then?” He asked, eagerness in his voice betraying the cool persona he was hoping to achieve. 

“I love music.” You confirmed, hands busily occupying themselves by twiddling the pen in your lap once more. “I wish they played music here. Imagine looking at all the art and listening to songs that fit. There’s these big dramatic paintings a few rooms over that are just begging for a rock instrumental to accompany it, and the cheese…” you trailed off, seemingly embarrassed to have been so caught up in the idea. “I feel like I'd be lost in it forever.” 

Eddie closed his eyes for the briefest moment, letting the vision of your little dream settle in his mind. He could get around that, art and music together – two worlds colliding. It seemed all the more enticing to think you would be there too, humming away as you watched the paintings and he watched you. 

“I think it sounds brilliant. You tell me when you’re building this fancy gallery and I’ll be the first one there.” 

He might have died at the sincerity with which you smiled. No heart was meant to withstand such adoration brimming inside of it. 

“You know, I–” you paused, garnering some courage to find the words, “the signature I was talking about before? That wasn’t the one that had me looking at this. The cheese, I mean.” You gestured vaguely towards the canvas before you, though Eddie was unwilling to peel his eyes from the work of art before him. 

“Yeah? What had you looking, then?” He couldn’t believe that for the first time in his life, Eddie actually cared about what was splayed across a canvas. Whatever it was that intrigued you so, he was aching to know. 

“She painted herself in the reflection of the lid on the jug. Up the top… see?” Adjusting the items in your lap, you slowly rose to your feet, extending a hand out to drag the boy up with you. Eddie faltered only for a second, contemplating whether this one single touch would make or break him. Would the sweat of his palms disgust you? He was so nervous to talk to you, after all, to take this chance. He swallowed, slipping calloused fingers into your own until he felt unperturbed digits grasp his own, your expression unphased as you guided him towards the wall. 

You both paused a foot short, your free hand pointing upwards to guide his flittering eyes. Lo and behold, painted so delicately into the reflection of the jug, was a face staring back at him. His hand squeezed your own with untapped excitement, and Eddie’s mouth dropped. 

“Holy shit, that’s so cool. That’s really her?” 

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah, that’s Clara.”

It was silent for a beat, the two of you soaking in the image before you; the woman in and amongst all the pieces of a life lived so long ago. It was a moment in history, much like the one the two of you were caught in now. 

Eddie marvelled helplessly, unsure what seemed to amaze him more; all these details that he never would have noticed if it weren’t for you, or the fact that you, a complete stranger, were still holding on to his hand as if it were something normal. For the briefest moment, he wondered if this could be normal, you and him. 

“I think this is the ultimate signature in a painting, just writing yourself into the story like that. It’s such a small thing, but… it changes everything, doesn’t it?” You broke the silence, voice a little dream like as you spoke. Eddie could only nod dumbly, a contented smile spreading across his face. 

“You wouldn’t wanna show me more of these, would you?” 

Eddie couldn’t stand the idea that you might walk away after this, back to your own life that until now had been so far away from his own. He wanted to walk the whole gallery with you, your hand in his, your voice whispering sweet nothings about the history and details of the world around you. 

The sheer excitement that crossed your features was an expression unmatched, never before seen. It was like he had asked you the one question you had been waiting for your whole life. Maybe you had been. Maybe no one had ever taken interest in the thing you seemed to love so much. He knew what that was like after all, his music had not been everyone's cup of tea. 

Maybe it could be yours.

“Oh, I– really?” 

“Only if you want to. I spent my whole time here trying to work out what made this stuff so special; I think you might be the one to show me. I’ll buy you coffee as thanks, if you like. I mean… I’d like to take you out for coffee.” 

He felt like a bumbling idiot, pausing to breathe an embarrassed chuckle. “You can also tell me to get lost at any time.” 

Eddie wasn’t sure if you noticed the way your hand seemed to tighten in his own, the movement causing his heart to beat in unsteady rhythms. It was something so small that seemed to shift his entire world – your hand holding his. 

Your head tilted with a smile. “You never said your name, y’know.” 

“Eddie.” He breathed out a little too fast. He’d have to kick himself later for it, because right now, he was too fixated on the way his foolishness seemed to make you smile all the wider. 

“Eddie.” You echoed, turning your body to face his own. “I’d love a coffee.” 

It took everything in him not to fist bump in triumph, his body aching to wriggle with the excitement that was slowly taking over muscle by muscle. How the hell had his morning turned out this good? 

“Sounds like a date, then.”

(images not mine)

“Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels” by Clara Peeters (ca. 1615)

[2cupids]

cw! omorashi/piss kink, (1) spoiler, semi-public, humilation. mdni (17+).

the holidays.

a joyous and festive time of year. although older brother!choso is still getting used to these human celebrations and festivities, he realizes he’ll quickly grow to love the holiday season from the look of excitement on yuuji’s face anytime he witnesses all the joy and happiness the holidays bring.

standing in the corner and watching from afar, a soft expression sits comfortably on choso’s face as he watches yuuji and nobara drag megumi around the store to pick out gifts for their teachers. the scene unfolding in front of his eyes is adorable and he otherwise wouldn’t be interested in leaving his spot in the store, but he’s becoming increasingly more aware of the pressure pushing against his bladder.

he’s got to pee. bad.

choso didn’t expect for it to take him this long to find his way around in the unfamiliar mall, and he especially wasn’t planning on the long ass line he finds waiting for the bathroom. fuck. he’s just going to have to take his chances and wait, but he soon finds out it’s going to be much harder than he thought.

a slight ache makes itself known in his lower stomach. not good. and he doesn’t trust himself to leave and go look for another restroom for fear of having an unintentional accident. the mere thought of that even happening begins to weigh heavily on his mind, keeping his feet firmly planted in one spot, unmoving.

as the minutes continue to tick by agonizingly slow and the feeling becomes more pronounced, choso finds himself doing anything to distract from how much worse the need to piss is getting. from shifting his weight from side to side, to humming, to subtly bouncing his leg, but nothing is working. if anything, it all just seems to be making it worse.

exactly five minutes have passed now and the line has still barely moved.

this has to be a joke.

choso grumbles in frustration under his breath. there’s got to be at least fifteen people in front of him and at this point, the probability of his fear coming true steadily increases and his heart drops to his stomach. but if worse comes to worse, he’ll get out of line and come up with some kind of plan.

but he can hold it, he definitely can.

he’s been holding it for hours already, so it can’t be that much more difficult… right?

sadly for choso, it is in fact incredibly hard to not piss yourself in a situation where the outlook is grim, especially when your bladder is already near the point of bursting from the stress being put on it for such a prolonged period of time.

his phone shows he's been waiting in line for ten minutes now. the ache has turned into a throbbing sensation and his lower belly is slightly distended from his full bladder that’s begging to be released. he’s trying to discreetly squeeze his cock without looking like some freak, but shit, it’s so hard. he’s terrified a little pee might dribble out. and it’s getting so bad that he feels like if he loses focus and doesn’t keep his muscles clenched, he might start to accidentally relax and piss himself in line.

finally, the person in front of him moves forward again and choso takes a few steps forward, slowly inching closer to the place he currently desires the most. and that’s when it happens, a little bit of pee just leaked out from his dick. oh no.

choso’s eyes widen and his cheeks heat up, suddenly it feels like all attention is on him–in reality, it wasn’t a sufficient amount to even stain the front of his jeans. the longer he holds it, the more he struggles to keep his bladder muscles clenched and the more it starts to hurt. he’s afraid to move even an inch, worried that it’ll lead to a stream of piss he won’t be able to stop.

he’s still nowhere close to the bathroom. he’s stuck in a dilemma. stay in line and wait or find somewhere secluded and hope for the best?

within a matter of moments, choso makes the decision to step out of line. he’s full on gripping his cock tightly, which earns him many disgusting stares as he weaves through the crowd of people. he needs to get somewhere private and quick, but he doesn’t know if he can make it. a feeling of dread spreads in his chest with the very likely chance he might end up humiliating himself in the middle of the mall with the way pee keeps periodically leaking into his boxers.

the image is incredibly embarrassing and humiliating, yes. but his primary worry is yuuji. is that really the kind of role model he wants yuuji to look up to? a grown man pissing his pants in public, in front of hundreds of people where his own brother could see? how pathetic and weak.

so with that in mind, he moves quicker, more frantically, as he searches for a way out. a deep frown tugs at the corner of his lips, panicking over the fact that he hasn’t found some kind of exit yet, until he passes two service doors that lead to the back rooms and hastily makes a b-line for them.

choso is making his best attempt at sprinting as he rushes through the doors and into the back hallways, but each time his foot hits the floor, another little bit of piss leaks from his cockhead. fat tears start to roll down his flushed cheeks and a choked sob rips from his throat.

the doors to the outside of the mall are in sight, he’s so close! but deep down, choso knows he can’t make it any further.

his legs start to tremble underneath him and he places a hand on the cold, brick wall as if to steady himself. against his will, the contracted muscles of his bladder relax and droplets of piss begin to leak from his dick and this time he can’t stop it, no matter how hard he clutches his dick or tries to tighten his weakened muscles again.

what started out as a leak, is now a steady stream of urine releasing from his bladder. the loud hissing sound of an overdue release is the only sound heard in the hallway as it pools at his feet in a shameful puddle. a look of despair is painted on choso’s face and his eyebrows are knitted together in humiliation while his lips quiver pitifully.

pee darkens the crotch of his loose fitting jeans as it trickles down his legs and it’s just too much for the poor curse to handle. he drops to his knees and hunches over as he cries, silently succumbing to his fate. this is the least of his worries but he can’t deny the feeling that’s present as he pisses, it feels weirdly… orgasmic?

after nearly three minutes, his bladder is emptied. his ordeal is over. finally.

he’s embarrassed. humiliated. and feeling incredibly guilty. he’s no doubt disgusted with himself, and yet for some reason, his dick is hard all of a sudden. he wasn’t hard before, just the exact opposite actually. it’s very odd to him, but he tries not to pay it too much attention as he slowly stands to his feet.

repulsive is the only word he could use to describe it. he knows why his dick is standing erect and straining against his wet underwear, but he refuses to even acknowledge it. at least right now.

something inside him has undoubtedly just awakened.

[8thhousemercury]

Sooner 18876 / Asteroid through the Houses ⏰

This asteroid is an indicator of an area of life and/or traits one accumulated sooner than others. The sign and house especially can show things that had to be dealt with usually at a young age. I consider it mostly positive but retrograde or certain sign placements/aspects can add more challenges. Conjunctions to personal planets can not only emphasize this energy but can have the native take on the traits of that planet at a younger age--for better or for worse.

Sooner 18876 in Aries/1st house/1º, 13º, 25º:

Developed a sense of independence at a young age. These natives were likely more confident in doing things alone compared to their peers. They definitely lost any desire to fit in before they even knew what it was, too. May've been a lot less clingy to their caregivers compared to other kids. They got used to their own company at a very young age and probably have stayed that way ever since. They knew who they were and were very confident in it, which helped them really grow into someone amazing.

Developed athleticism and competitiveness at a young age. These natives were definitely a lot more althetic than other kids when they were younger. This could've made them annoyingly competitive in school or just in general. They may have been forced into a sport but nonetheless came out of it with great talent. Found a lot of value in exercise as it may have helped them manage the stressors of growing up. Also could've chosen a sport at a young age and have stuck with it ever since. Possibly prodigies in said sport.

Developed anger at a young age. This could've obviously been painful, but it ended up helping them by giving them a headstart ;) at observing, understanding, and even managing their own anger. Could've definitely been an angrier child in general but it paid off as they got older. They knew exactly what made them mad and how they would react, and went on to attempt to manage or solve it. Surprisingly emotionally intelligent children and likely helped their peers with this as well.

Retrograde: Their strong sense of independence may have greatly separated them from their peers. Also may have been a little too competitve and therefore earned a lot of eyerolls. May have also taken a bit longer to accumulate athleticism. Also may have lost a few games lol. Or isolated by their team for being too good. Could've had trouble with managing their anger as well. Overall were forced to deal with this Martian energy at a very young age which was likely very painful and confusing.

Sooner 18876 in Taurus/2nd house/2º, 14º, 26º:

Developed a sense of luxury at a young age. May have been introduced to the finer things in life in their childhood and therefore gained an understanding of what makes them feel luxurious. Could've loved playing dress up, the type of kid who puts on their mother's heels and tries on her jewerly just to giggle in the mirror. Very quick to learn not only the monetary value of material possessions but also the emotional and personal value attached to them.

Developed headstrength at a young age. Accumulated a set of beliefs and stuck with them, therefore defending them fiercely whenever needed. They likely were quick to build a life that aligns with the things they believe in. Could've come off as stubborn or annoying to their peers as a result. Had a stronger understanding of what values are and their importance compared to other children their age as well.

Developed a sense of comfort and stability at a young age. May have built an understanding of the things that make them comfortable at a young age. They were probably a lot more comfortable in themselves compared to their peers simply because they were so sure of the things they could do to soothe themselves. They also incorporated their 5 senses into these strategies, which therefore helped them feel more grounded in their bodies. A fairly emotionally healthy placement.

Retrograde: Could've been a bit too materialistic, demanding frequent purchases, never completely satisfied. Their headstrength may have been high but perhaps towards the wrong things at times. Could've defended themselves so much that more was taken out of their life than brought in. Laziness may have been a problem but honestly I see it as moreso of a desire to maintain the sense of peace they crave deeply.

Sooner 18876 in Gemini/3rd house/3º, 15º, 27º:

Developed intelligence at a young age. Probably exceeded some of the expectations for children their age, whether that was in reading or math or any other subject. Not only that, but they also learned how to study at a young age. These natives definitely figured out the best ways for them to absorb information way before others, and as a result, found more success in their intelligence. This can also be an indicator of graduating early from (usually) high school.

Developed motor skills and communication skills at a really young age. This placement reminds me of babies who learn how to walk really quickly. Probably were speaking full, coherent sentences before they even knew they were alive. They likely picked up things like writing (the physical act of moving the hand in this case), typing, tying their shoes, and other motor skills fairly quickly. In general, these natives likely seemed a lot more developed in almost everything than kids their age. This is an excellent placement.

Developed social intelligence at a young age. These kids are incredible at socializing. They likely picked up conversational skills from the adults around them. They learned how to keep a conversation going way before everyone else. Probably skipped that awkward phase many experience as teenagers because of how natural conversations come to them. A lot of people are impressed by their abilities to be so engaging at such a young age.

Retrograde: May have been in a school that couldn't fully accommodate their intelligence needs. They could've spent a lot of time in classes that were too easy for them. May have also been under/overestimated in terms of their skills, which could've led them to some difficult situations. Could also manifest as impatience with others for lacking certain abilities, but this typically goes away with age. Could've been called annoying or looked down upon from their peers, simply because they attracted jealousy.

Sooner 18876 in Cancer/4th house/4º, 16º, 28º:

Developed emotional intelligence at a young age. Similar to Aries/1st house, these natives were likely very emotional children, and therefore were almost forced to observe their emotions. They likely had to develop coping mechanisms and just understand their emotions a lot sooner than their peers. May have found the exact things they need to deal with their emotions. This can be good obviously, but it can also be intense.

Developed intuition and empathy at a young age. This is common among all of the water placements. This reminds me of a kid who had gut feelings about things before they actually ended up happening and weren't believed... Then they'd happen and it would just be brushed off. This especially applies to interpersonal matters. Could've made adults and other children alike uncomfortable due to this. Very receptive. This is a good placement but this can be difficult, it can be a lot of weight on a child.

Developed a strong sense of nuturing at a young age. Similar to my previous point, but these kids had to learn how to nurture themselves and especially everyone else around them when they were very young. They observed and understood what makes people feel comforted. They probably have a toolbox of how to properly deal with every emotion for both themselves and others. They always knew exactly what to say to people during emotional moments and could've come off as very profound for their age as a result.

Retrograde: Their ability to fully feel their emotions may have angered a lot of people around them. They aren't too fearful in their expression and that could've been a lot for both themselves and others to deal with. I said this already but this is emphasized in Retrograde: Undermined intuitive abilities. Could've been mocked or suppressed for them. Also could've unintentionally taken on more emotional weight for others than they should've.

Sooner 18876 in Leo/5th house/5º, 17º, 29º:

Developed creative talents at a young age. Most children are very imaginative and therefore creative, but something about this placement in particular helps them stand out. These children were likely creatively talented beyond their years. Likely gained talents and made them serious way before their peers. They didn't see art as an activity but rather as a way to express themselves, which therefore helped them tap into it more. Incredible artistic abilities in whatever medium they choose, and likely have one they started at a young age and are still amazing at.

Developed self-confidence at a young age. These natives likely always felt comfortable expressing themselves fully, and if not, they definitely did when they were younger. This kind of relates to my last point but they always knew what their talents were and therefore knew their potential. They've seen themselves at their best and are confident in the fact that they can revive that part of them whenever needed. Instead of seeing this later in life though, they saw it as children, and therefore were able to become truly confident in themselves at a much younger age than their peers.

Developed "star quality" at a young age. I do think this specific placement can be one of many young fame indicators, especially if it is tightly conjunct a personal planet. That said, Demi Lovato and Nick Jonas, two celebrities who got famous at a young age, both have this placement (in Leo, I didn't check which house but the energy is still there). These natives combined their self-confidence with their creative talents and therefore were able to project themselves with such amazing creativity that it made them incredible for their age. It didn't take long for them to come off as professionals in whatever creative medium they chose, making them hard to ignore. Very talented.

Retrograde: Could've had a hard time practicing their creative talents whether that was due to being suppressed by external factors (money, social pressure, etc) or internal things. May have had talent but not been completely comfortable sharing it. They could've been incredibly underestimated and that was the main thing that gave them their confidence.. they knew their potential but others may not have, or may have tried to put them down. Many challenges with getting in the spotlight in general.

Sooner 18876 in Virgo/6th house/6º, 18º:

Developed practicality at a young age. This isn't exclusive to one area of life. These natives know the best ways to succeed at just about everything but especially day-to-day matters. They learned exactly how each step of a task can connect to one another, which ones can be cut out or modified to be more efficient, and whatever needs to be added. They had an impressive ability to get things done with precision and were likely much more detail-oriented than other children their age.

Developed discipline at a young age. These natives know exactly what needs to be done in order to succeed at anything and are willing to do it. They observed and understood the processes of everything. They knew that success wasn't just cut and dry, but rather, a combination of difficulty and flow. They could've come off as very mature as a result of this. As children, they were very committed to seeing the results they want and will do just about anything to get there--a tendency that helped them blossom in adulthood.

Developed a desire to help others at a young age. Because of how quickly these children understood what needed to be done to achieve anything, they were able to apply that knowledge to assist others. They likely enjoyed helping their peers out with things. If not, they definitely knew how, and were willing to assist when absolutely needed. They may have also seen or felt what it's like to lack (interpret this however you'd like), and they may have been more willing than others to help people tackle that feeling. Very kindhearted and intelligent children.

Retrograde: Practicality may have taken a lot of trial and error to obtain. May have also been mislead about it as well, being told that their way of doing things was incorrect. Their discipline could've been underestimated, and they could've been told that they didn't need to worry about certain things at that point. They also may have not had a lot of people to help, or were excluded from opportunities simply due to their age. Overall their skillset may have not been too useful as a child and didn't end up helping them too much until they got older.

Sooner 18876 in Libra/7th house/7°, 19°:

Developed social skills at a young age. These natives were practically born with the ability to make anyone feel comfortable around them. They could’ve been popular when they were younger as well. Definitely observed how other socialize and what works/what doesn’t.

Understood the importance of relationships at a young age. These natives likely found valuable relationships at a young age and therefore realized how important they are. They could’ve been surrounded by good examples of relationships, whether this was caregivers or friends. They know exactly what the signs of a bad or good relationship are. Also may maintain friendships from childhood.

Developed a sense of justice at a young age. They observed how people in their lives got justice and formed their perception around that. They were likely very considerate to others and learned the importance of hearing both sides of a story before forming an opinion. This could’ve impressed a lot of adults in their lives, very intelligent children. Also could’ve had an interest in law at young age.

Retrograde: May have felt overwhelmed at times with their social knowledge. Could come out as extreme people pleasing. Their understanding of relationships may remain exclusively from the examples in childhood. Their sense of justice may have been forcibly suppressed; may have been told to ‘stop making a big deal’ out of things.

Sooner 18876 in Scorpio/8th house/8°, 20°:

Developed an understanding of the deeper parts of life at a young age. These natives may have been exposed to death, transformations, and possibly the Occult (these are just some of the things) at a young age, and were required to ‘get used to’ them. Very strong in dealing with areas of life no child should have to deal with.

Developed an understanding of debt at a young age. These natives may have had caregivers in their lives who were in debt, and they just had to watch it play out. They had to observe and learn how debt is dealt with as literal children. Not always financial debt though, these natives quickly understood the rules of Karma and consequences at a young age. They may have seen people in their lives who didn’t get what they deserved (for better and for worse). Possibly vengeful as children, but moreso from a logical standpoint.

Developed an understanding of death and surrender at a young age. Similar to my last point. They likely had to watch things get ripped out of the hands of people around them, and how they get them back or rebuild from that point, without even knowing what it means. Painful, but useful later on. These children may have a lot taken from themselves and others around them, therefore almost having to make peace with the fact that this kind of thing exists. May have detached value from objects, people, places, etc for no reason, simply due to their perceived chance of having to surrender them later on. Hugs for you all 🫂

Retrograde: Learning about the darker parts of life through many experiences, may not have understood how to apply their prior knowledge to work through these moments until later on. May have felt hopelessness toward the Universe after seeing and/or going through so much suffering. May have had things stolen from them frequently, forced surrender. Huge fear of Karma because they understand it so well. Also, sharing when they didn’t want to.

Sooner 18876 in Sagittarius/9th house/9°, 21°:

Developed a need to broaden horizons at a young age. These natives likely felt very limited whenever they had to stay in one place, and craved to be exposed to other perspectives way before anyone else. They were curious like other children their age, but about bigger things like philosophies, morality, etc. The knowledge they deeply wanted to seek out was close to impossible to find in their hometown or by staying in one place in general--maybe it was about international affairs, or simply things that take a lot of time and dedication to discover/understand.

Developed wisdom at a young age. This can manifest in many ways. These natives had a good amount of understanding surrounding certain areas, and for this reason, were likely a lot more optimistic than other children their age. The fact that they didn't find much value in the mundane of daily lives forced them to find something to latch onto to keep their hope. They probably had some sort of experience mentoring their peers, whether it was in school or anything. Very optimistic, lots of faith in luck and the Universe in general. When most children their age may've either not cared or not had the faith, they kept theirs.

Developed a strong need for their knowledge to be taken seriously at a young age. This kind of combines what I've already said. They likely knew exactly what they wanted to do after high school or in adulthood. May have picked out their college major or whatever way to expand their knowledge later on before they even fully understood what it meant. They always had a desire to be seen as a mentor, to be seen as someone with a lot of wisdom, especially at a young age. They may have wanted to publish their beliefs somehow. They saw how their wisdom and optimism affected their peers, and therefore wanted to help others later on as well. They wanted to go far and then help others do the same. Not an easy placement but incredibly spiritually intelligent.

Retrograde: May have had little to no opportunities to travel, and may have had this desire forcefully suppressed because of their environment. Definitely have been told “Don’t worry about that yet, wait until you’re older”… Developed wisdom and optimism but at a cost. May have been wavering and/or developed solely as a result of bad experiences. They may not have much faith or it may take them longer to accumulate it. Similar to what I’ve already said but they may have been mocked for their ideas. People may have just not been able to hear them or purposely ignored them. Not to mention that school might’ve been a challenge for them as well.

Sooner 18876 in Capricorn/10th house/10°, 22°:

Developed a reputation at a young age. These natives may have been popular as children as well, and for that reason, had a lot of peers watching them and building beliefs from that point on. Usually when direct, this is a good reputation. They may have a good amount of childhood friends who still support them to this day. How they were seen as a child may follow them into adulthood, as well. This can be a fame indicator or even a nepo baby one as well. They also understood exactly what they need to maintain their reputation or to change it. Very intelligent in terms of the public eye, they handle being in high positions very well since they learned how as a child.

Developed a good relationship with authority at a young age. These children were likely hardworking and trustworthy. They were reliable and rarely disappointed others, especially authority figures. They understood rules and the benefits of following them. They frequently followed through with their promises, completed their duties, and were happy doing so. For this reason, they may have stuck out to authority figures, and therefore gained their trust very quick. They took things very seriously and were set on keeping that as their reputation.

Developed a vision for their adulthood at a young age. This is mostly in relation to their career, they may've made a career decision as a child and started working towards it. Took the question of, "What do you want to be when you grow up?", very seriously and had their answer set. Likely very skilled in whatever career they choose as well, considering how long they've worked towards it. As children, they may have taken a lot of initiative to becoming the perfect fit for their career, whether that was through learning or whatever. They were very stern on their visions, and rightfully so. This placement can also indicate getting high position in a career very quickly.

Retrograde: May have a reputation that isn’t fully clear. Target of rumors. May have had to face lots of rejection to learn how to avoid it, and may even go to extensive lengths. May have authority figures in their lives who they had to prove themselves to. Their reliability may have been a facade for their early life as well. The career they chose may not have accepted them at first, too. Maybe they learned the wrong things or took the wrong shots in general, their knowledge from when they were younger not helping much. May have had a little to work harder for just about everything but especially career matters.

Sooner 18876 in Aquarius/11th house/11°, 23°:

Developed innovation at a young age. These natives likely had big ideas for certain things as children, and were always thinking about how something could be better. This could apply to any area of their life. They were very much forward thinkers as children and had a vision for something. Because of their frequent desire to move onto something new, they may have had unique ideas that either intrigued or confused people around them. They may have come off as incredibly intelligent to their peers considering how out-of-the-box their ideas were. They observed what happened when things around them stayed the same and how that made or broke said things. They could've gotten ahead of themselves due to how many ideas they had, and how desparate they were to make them happen.

Understood the collective at a young age. These children may have felt called to help their community and other groups they cared about before they even understood why. Their vision may have had them fight for people to get what they need. Because they know exactly what needs to improve for both themselves and others (and society in general), they fought for it. Their commitment to their vision may have come off as a bit odd or even selfish but it was truly from a good place. They had an idea that they wanted to achieve and likely did whatever they could to align the people around them with it. This definitely caught the attention of the people around them, especially if they managed to achieve whatever they intended.

Developed hopes and dreams at a young age. Considering that these natives are such young visionaries, they knew exactly what they want and how and when. They may still be working towards something they’ve wanted to achieve as a child. Their aspirations are very much molded from the things they wanted early on, and usually don’t change. Because they’re incredibly aware of this, making their dreams come true is something that might come easier to them than most.

Retrograde: Their innovative nature may have not been taken seriously, or they may not have had the opportunity to go through with it until they were older. May have felt suppressed and not cared for as a result. Their peers may have suspected that their relationship was for an ulterior motive. Not to mention that their unique nature may have been what isolated them from their peers as well. Their desire to change may have annoyed people. Had ideas that could’ve been too difficult for most to understand. May have also been discouraged from going through with their hopes and dreams, or had to wait a bit. Like Capricorn/10th house, what they did in their youth may not have helped them later on.

Sooner 18876 in Pisces/12th house/12°, 24°:

Understood the value of introspection at a young age. These children likely engaged in introspection very frequently (which may lessen as they age), and therefore possibly spent a lot of time alone. They were very interested in discovering the parts of themselves and reading their personality before most people their age. Their introspective nature definitely helped them later on, as they were able to use what they learned to continue to understand themselves. As children, these natives may have come off as hermits. Definitely a lot of weight for a child but they don’t seem to mind much.

Developed subconscious patterns at a young age. Their subconscious mind can be heavily influenced by their childhood, moreso than others. This can be good if this is in direct. Almost every moment of growing up shaped them into who they are in their head, as well. Another interesting part of this is dreams. A lot of these natives are prone to recurring dreams/nightmares (usually retrograde): whether it’s the dream itself or the themes or the people, their minds picked them up at a young age and kept them ever since. They may have also analyzed their dreams at a young age.

In the 12th: This placement may have had trouble accessing the qualities of whichever sign it is in especially at a young age. If this is direct, it usually is solved around the teenage years, and the traits can be embodied more. If retrograde, these traits may have genuinely never been accessible, or even seemed like they made things worse. This is not an easy placement at all I fear..

Retrograde: They may have craved more alone time than they could get. May have dug a little too deep into themselves, which could’ve caused a lot of fear and shame at such a young age. As I mentioned, when this is retrograde, recurring nightmares that began in childhood are very common. Nightmare themes from childhood will likely never go away. The bad experiences may have made their subconcious mind a hellhole and they may not have realized. Bad experiences shaped their mind more than others (with or without this placement). Strong indicator of mental illness and/or addiction at a young age, as well. 

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[atozfic]

splish splash.

pairing. san x seonghwa x wooyoung x yunho x fem!reader synopsis. they’re out to prove who’s the best at the breast-stroke- gets dragged off stage as the people boo over such a terrible pun. warnings. no use of y/n, swim team au, lifeguard!reader, pro-swimmers!sanhwawooho, they’re all wearing speedos :), smut ( porn with unnecesary plot, degradation, m+f oral sex, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, triple penetration bc u got 3 holes for a reason sweetcheeks, mxm interactions, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, hair pulling, way more warnings that there’s honestly no point listing, just know this is pure filth that covers most bases of stereotypical fanfiction smut, mother in christ what have i written? ) no verbal consent is given throughout this but all parties are willing participants !! word count. 20k+ ( of literal porn. i need to leave this physical terrain bc i am not worthy of existing after writing this i fear. ) hyde’s input. hey girlie pops, long time no see.

it’s crazy, what some people will do for money.

take, for example, your roommate. she’s a smart girl. a beautiful one, too. with a promising future in criminal law, once she gets herself that pesky little degree. and, yet, she’s funding her tuition with money she earns distributing high-end drugs on campus. rather counter-productive, most would agree. or, in a far less extreme version, there’s that overly-hyper frat boy, who can always be found doing the dumbest dares at a party, all for a few bucks and a keg of beer.

and then there is you.

you would have arrived home twenty minutes ago at this point, had things gone to plan, a backlog of neglected assignments and a baby bonsai tree in need of watering desperately awaiting your return. yet here you are, stuck in your ugly flip-flops and uncomfortably stale shorts, whistle around your neck and a look of exhaustion on your face.

the swimming pool had closed, technically, an hour and a half ago. the sports centre seems to believe, however, that certain members of the college swim team reserve the right to use the pool for however long they require and desire, even if it is at your expense. if you were being paid overtime, perhaps you’d have a more positive outlook on things and less of a frown creasing on your forehead.

if the swimmers weren’t so irritating, maybe you’d enjoy the view.

“all that height, and for what?” the sophomore boy’s voice- jung wooyoung? you aren’t overly familiar with him, seeing him only in sporadic flashes when you pass each other on campus or at some uncivilised frat party- echos through the large room, his hair a wet mess. if you were gaining anything from being here, you’d perhaps muster up the energy to remind the boy of how a swim cap is necessary at all times in the water. “can’t even out-swim me with those long legs!”

“wanna know what my long legs are for?” jeong yunho, a junior with the face of an angel and the body proportions of a sinner, pipes up from across the olympic length pool. unlike the other boy, a crimson cap keeps his own locks out of sight. “climbing up the stairs to go fuck your mom!”

it’s impossible to stifle your laughter, no matter how hard you try to just play it off as a tickle at the back of your throat, a cough forcing its way out. when your eyes meet those of the glaring senior, however, you’re wishing you hadn’t made a sound.

“even the lifeguard can’t take you seriously, yunho,” park seonghwa speaks, eyes not leaving yours as his muscled arms work to pull himself out of the water, before letting his well-rounded behind sit down on the edge. a breath hitches in your throat as his gloriously muscled thighs come into view, drops of water cascading down them in a pattern set to hypnotise you, keep you staring a little longer than is good for your health. “bet she’s heard all about you and the boner incident of 2019.”

truthfully, you have no clue what the dark haired male is on about. that doesn’t stop you from laughing again though, this time a little out of malice and a lot because it’s quite endearing to see a loudmouth like jeong yunho be silenced so easily, head bowed and ears a little rosier with embarrassment.

this small moment of peace is soon shattered by the reality that these boys can’t spend more than ten minutes in a room- particularly one that includes a pool- without arguing. while one boasts about his speed, the other begins to jab at his lack of endurance, and the remaining of the three reminds them all of the fact he holds the most medals amongst them.

“are they always like this?” you jump, surprised by the cold drop of water that lands on your exposed thigh, all courtesy of the boy who’s invited himself to sit down next to you on the bench.

“not always,” you bite at the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to not look at san in all his wet glory. you’re afraid that, once you start looking at him, you won’t be able to stop. it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fallen victim to the crime that is his enchanting smile. “guess they’re feeling a little feistier than usual, with the district championship just around the corner. rumour has it one of you guys is risking his scholarship if he’s not in the top three.”

are you and san close?

that’s a good question. see, by social standards, you’re not strangers. you share several classes, you attend the same parties, you’ve even texted a few times- mostly on the days one of you miss class (read as: san misses class thanks to his swim-meets) and you need a copy of any notes taken that lesson.

but, you aren’t exactly friends either. you don’t go out of your ways to spend time together, you don’t know more than the surface level about one another, you don’t check-in with each other.

so, is acquaintances the best word to describe you two?

that depends on how common it is for an acquaintance to suck another acquaintance’s cock. granted, there had been a lot of alcohol in the mix, on both ends, with you drinking to forget a botched assignment and san drinking to forget how badly his voice had apparently cracked in front of his crush.

a few weeks have passed since the incident and things haven’t exactly been the same. you’ve missed class twice and ended up contacting heather- a sweet girl who sits down by the front and seems to live with her hand raised in the air- for any notes. likewise, san has found himself declining party invitations, the knowledge that you would be there all too prevalent in the front of his mind.

the irony is that neither of you quite know the reason why you’re avoiding each other, you just are.

or, were, until san had walked in with his swim team buddies- if they could even be considered that- and spotted you in your lifeguard attire. he hadn’t been as slick as he thought he was, sneaking glances at you between laps and even gaining an undeniable smile each time he watched you blow that stupid whistle at some misbehaving kids.

he was slicker with the fact he didn’t need to be here, at this hour. but, he figured staying gave him the chance to stare at you a little longer and, maybe, think up an excuse to talk to you.

“i should-”

“i missed-”

you both speak at the same time, minutes after watching the three musketeers disappear into the locker rooms, with the smallest of them continuing to dig at them for not being able to out-swim him despite their ample amount of height. san’s quick to signal you to go first, a dimple making itself known on his face and reminding you of the deadliest part of him: the false innocence that drips off him like warm candy.

sweet, sticky, making a mess all over the place.

“i should probably start cleaning up.” it turns out san also isn’t discreet when it comes to hiding the disappointment in his face, because no sooner than those words leave your mouth, the dimple is gone and he’s sat a little straighter, a little more ridged, like when the professor points him out in the middle of the class and the golden boy can’t stomach all the attention being on him. “but, what were you gonna say?”

“oh,” and it’s like he’s just remembered that yes, there is something he wants to say. “i missed you in class yesterday.”

it catches you off guard, leaving you to almost drop the whistle you’ve been fiddling between your fingers for the past few minutes. something about sitting so close to him while both of you are dressed so scantily has you feeling unnerved, like you need to run away as fast as possible, yet also wanting to plant yourself right in his lap.

“i didn’t think,” you’re cut off by your own throat, dry and desperate for a drink under his intense gaze. san is a walking contradiction, you think, with his sharp cheekbones and soft heart, his intense eyes and his easy-going smile. his presence gives you never-ending whiplash, never sure if he’s more angel than devil. “i didn’t think you noticed.”

“how could i not? there was no one to laugh with me at professor nam and his weird toe-shoes!” his laugh is infectious, willing your own to make an appearance. 

the sound of distant muffled yelling fills the air of the swimming pool and it isn’t hard to recognise wooyoung’s high-pitched laughter amongst it. clearly, their childish arguing has carried on into the changing rooms. it surprises you in no way, already more than used to their antics.

their rivalry is one for the ages, all of them constantly bumping heads for the spot of the top swimmer on campus, their sports scholarships becoming their pride and joy.

you suppose it doesn’t help that all four boys run in different circles, only really crossing paths when faced with swim-meets and days of practice. the senior, park seonghwa, runs with the richer kids of the college, all sharing their trust-funds and god complexes as a common interest. you’re not overly familiar with them, though you’re certain he and a particular blue-haired boy are rarely seen apart. jeong yunho, the tallest, is in with the jocks, which is mostly just because his taller friend is the captain of the basketball team. and jung wooyoung tends to surround himself with the stoners from the school, something you’d learned from kang yeosang, a dealer you shared a couple classes with back in your first semester.

san, ever the golden boy, drifts between a couple different groups but he can usually be found alone and enjoying his own company, if not being followed by a flock of his own little fan-club, men and women alike begging for just an ounce of his time.

your name echos around the room. your head snaps to the side and you find that san is now closer, staring at you in a way that’s making your insides knot up. you’ve seen that look only once before, and it done nothing but leave your knees and your ego bruised. “were you listening to me?”

“what? uh, yeah, i was,” you’re quick to lie, knowing it’s about to backfire when he breaks out in a challenging grin.

“really? what did i say?” he only allows you to stumble over words for a minute before cutting off your incomprehensible speaking when he grabs at your chin and tilts your head up, staring straight into your eyes. “that’s what i thought. you were too busy getting lost in that pretty little head of yours to pay attention to me.”

you stutter over a noise and settle for that as your response, though entirely incomprehensible and nonsensical. the way he continues to stare at you feels cruel, demons dancing around in those pretty eyes of his. demons that are telling him to tease, torture, torment the fragile eyes staring back at him, the same ones he’d delighted in watching fill up with tears a few weeks back, the pressure of his crown slamming against the back of your tight throat entirely overwhelming you to the point of crying, tears dripping down your cheeks and mixing with your own drool pooling over the swell of his balls.

“need me to repeat myself?” you’re slow to catch up to the fact he’s speaking again, and even slower to notice the hand resting on your knee. at first, you think you’re imagining things, the feather light tracing of nails over your soft skin a mere figment of your imagination. but, no, your eyes flash down to glimpse and his hand is there, fingers dancing over your naked skin like it’s their own personal stage and he’s intending to put on the show of a lifetime. he speaks your name. “questions are meant to be answered.”

“i-” san picks the perfect time to apply pressure on you, hand gripping the flesh on the lower end of your thigh. goosebumps spring to life at the feeling of his cold ring on your damp skin. it takes a shaky breath to try compose yourself but you do eventually manage to get a reply out. “sorry... please say it again.”

“huh,” he pauses to contemplate, slowly leaning his face closer to your own, giving you all the time to pull back if you want to. you stay still and his minty breath infects your senses while the hand on your leg replaces your thigh with your face, the grip he has on it forcing blunt nails to nip at your skin. normally, you’d worry about the marks it’s going to leave behind. right now, you want him to grip tighter, dig deeper into your flesh till he’s drawing blood and licking it off your cheeks. “how the fuck do you still sound so cute begging?”

“is that,” his other hand curls around the back of you, finding a resting place on your hip. the window of opportunity you once had to pull back or run away is slammed shut the moment he tugs you a little closer, the side of your body crashing into his naked chest. “what you said earlier?”

“oh, no.” san almost sounds like he’s cooing, a mocking tone in his voice that has your thighs clenching in a way you’re sure he notices. his eye flickering down to glance at them confirms your suspicions, the smirk taking over his features the metaphorical cherry on top. “i was just talking about how i’ve still not returned the favour.”

mind blanking out on you, you stare back at him in what you can only imagine to be a dumb-founded look, mouth slightly agape and teasing your answer.

what follows, however, is a resounding silence on your end.

“c’mon, princess, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what happened the last time i got you alone.”

forget? it’s all you’ve been able to think of every time you’ve seen him since, whether he was a figure in the corner of your eye during class or making his way down the campus car-park in search of his beaten up mustang.

each time, like an old record player, your mind plays on loop the way he looked staring down at you, long legs spread enough to fit you between them, closing in on you to trap you in place each time you swallowed him a little deeper; replaying the symphony of whiny moans and airy breaths you’d pulled from him, lips swollen and red from trying too hard to hold back his cries of pleasure; reviving the memory of his vice grip on your hair, tugging at the roots to tilt you back into the perfect angle for his hips to piston into your warm mouth, meeting his own crescendo in one final pathetic whimper of your name.

a whimper that’s pushed you over the edge several times since, fingers soaked in your own sins and mouth biting down on your pillow to keep your poor sleeping roommate oblivious to your actions.

“no,” an answer escapes you alongside a shaky breath, something about the way he’s slowly trailing his fingers down your neck and the intensity he’s staring at you with hypnotising you into forgetting all about the boisterous boys and their changing-rooms chanting. “haven’t forgot.”

it’s his turn to stay quiet and you begin to wonder if he’s recalling it too, if he’s reminding himself of how easily your bodies melted together, like candle-wax meeting a flame. the question of if he’s thought about the exact scene, hands stuffed down his pants while a dull ache builds in his wrist, burns the tip of your tongue.

but his eyes burn you more.

they’re usually wide, bright, full of that bubbly nature san is known all over for. but, if what people say is true and the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul, then san’s soul must be a dark pit made up of lustful glares and hooded eyelids, resting so low his eyes almost appear shut.

“then, don’t you agree that it’s my turn to have a taste?”

it’s the question to end all questions, no time to even think of forming an answer when his fingertips are dancing over your skin so rhythmically, like a practiced choreography when they curl and wrap themselves around your neck. they rest there for a heartbeat, and then another, before you feel it begin.

the pressure is dull, at first, and you think you’re imagining it. but it grows, like a seed under the sun, blossoms into thorns squeezing around your airways, a deformed rose made from the red marks his fingers will be sure to leave behind.

you try to breath in, only for it to get caught somewhere between your lips and his tightening hold.

“you’re too fucking pretty, you know?” the hand on your hip has found a new home on your cheek, palm warm and thumb rough as he swipes it over your bottom lip. “all i can ever think about around you, even when you were drooling all over my balls.”

you want to answer, you really do. but between the hand around your throat and the heat shooting straight for your core, burning up in a puddle of arousal, you can’t. all you can do is watch the man before you, raven hair a beautiful mess just begging for some fingers to be ran through it and stare promising to ruin you in the best way possible.

the silence pleases him.

“y’know, it’s so hard to get you alone. always got someone wanting to talk to you, stealing your attention. do you even know how many stupid parties i had to attend to finally get the chance to talk to you?” san pauses, like he’s waiting for you to relay an answer, guess a number. he loosens up the grip on your neck, teasing your skin with a few soothing strokes of his slender fingers, lulling you into a state bordering insanity. “no answer, angel? or are you lost in that pretty little head again?”

“i’m,” your voice is but a whisper, raspy with your new found thirst. “trying to figure out what you want from me.”

if it’s the wrong or right thing to say, you’re soon to find out, the sharp faced boy releasing a dangerously low chuckle as he takes a hold of your chin. like a pretty doll, you move any time and any way his fingers command you to, finding yourself staring right up into his eyes, a swirl of melting caramel that reminds you of how sweet yet sultry every inch of him is. lips near touching, he refuses to break eye contact as he speaks up once more, sealing both your fates when his breath hits your face.

“then let me show you what i want.”

his mouth comes down on yours like it’s the answers to all your prayers and, yet, all your nightmares.

it excites you how easily he works his lips over your own, captivating every inch of you when he tilts his head to the right and deepens the kiss. the rhythm to his kiss is a mismatch of beats, where one moment your lips are moving in a sensual waltz, grazing tongues and dipping heads to get rid of that inch of a space remaining between your bodies, and the next moment your tongues are tangled in a tango, the kind where his teeth send blood rushing to your lips with every bite he drags over them and his hand drags shivers down your spine as it makes its way down your body.

yet it terrifies you how willingly you succumb to san’s touch, intoxicated by whatever witchcraft he currently holds over you. there’s a deadliness to the way his lips part from your own only to begin a seamless descent down your jaw and the expanse of your neck, a poisonous element to the way his hand once again finds itself clutching the meat of your thigh.

the moment his fingertips meet the bottom of your shorts, you’re wishing you’d never slipped them on in the first place, every fibre of your being growing angsty under the weight of his suddenly halted hand. it stays still for an immeasurable amount of time, grazing over the bottom of your shorts occasionally while he continues to mouth at your neck.

like mosses and the great sea, san parts your legs with little to no effort, creating a pathway for his fingers to travel further up your thigh. blunt fingernails drag up your skin, a trail of goosebumps being left behind, a visible marking of where he’s touching you.

his movements halt too soon for your liking, too much distance between his lithe fingers and your body’s very core.

“have you figured out what i want yet, pretty?” his voice is a stark difference to the usual light-hearted, almost squeak-like tone you’ve grown used to hearing from the smiley boy. right now, there’s no trace of humour in the thick rasp and there’s no time for smiling while he’s glaring down at you through hooded eyes.

something compels you to nod your head, even though you’re a little too lost in the thoughts concerning what you want, rather than what the devil incarnate by your side wants.

“you have?” the words come out in a layer of amazement, and you have to wonder if it’s because of the lie you’ve just told or the way your legs have closed in around his hand, trapping it between them. “i want to know what you want, though.”

you want his thumb to stop stroking over the flesh of your inner thigh.

you want his eyes to stop gazing down at you like you’re the perfect prey.

you want him to stop teetering your impending pleasure on a string.

you want-

“you.” is all you manage to breath out.

it seems to do the trick, however, your point getting very much across to him. a softness flickers over his features, brows unfurling and smirk curling up into a full smile for what feels like an eternity, but is actually no more than a couple of seconds before his devilish aura is back.

lips meet lips again, the desperation and force behind each stroke of his tongue against yours the same as before. san, much to your delight, seems to grow just as impatient as you’ve been since the moment he welcomed himself into the empty space next to you on the bench.

one hand still resting between your thighs, his other seizes the opportunity to drag your body closer, so close that you have no choice but to swing one leg over him and slot yourself in his lap.

there was one time, in the middle of what you’ve deemed to be the most boring lecture ever, that you had thought about what it would feel like to sit in choi san’s lap. unintentionally, of course, for how could anyone look over at him in those grey sweatpants, legs manspreading like it was nobody’s business and pen tapping away at the table in front of him, and not daydream about being perched in his lap, head resting somewhere between his shoulder and his soft hair?

you’d imagined him to be the embodiment of soft and comfortable, warm and reassuring the way he’d lazily lay an arm over your hip to make sure there’s no risk of you slipping out of your new seat. you never, for the life of you, imagined you’d feel the outline of his dick resting against your ass the first time you finally claimed your throne.

choosing to not dwell on the heavy feeling of him pressed against you, you choose instead to focus on the way his lips trail away from yours and make their descent towards the top of your chest.

his hand abandons post between your thighs and rises to the surface, where long fingers begin to pull at the straps of your red swimsuit, successfully manoeuvring the nylon material till it’s bunched around your midriff and your breasts are exposed to the damp air of the swimming hall. 

with no want left to play around, he dives right in to dragging his lips down the upper swell of your left breast. you imagine he can feel the beating of your racing heart beneath the goosebump littered skin. it doesn’t take long for his tongue to enter the scene, skilfully flicking over your hardened nipple a couple times before enveloping his mouth around the bud.

one, two, three sucks and he’s moving on to your right breast. there’s no lead up, this time, simply his mouth finding delight in toying with your body while he busies his hand with your left side, thumb and pointer finger rolling and tugging and spreading the remnants of his saliva over your heated skin.

the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and has you arching your own, is the faintest pressure of his teeth biting down on you. it dances on a thin line between pleasurable and painful, exhilarating enough to make you throw your head back as a moan slips past your lips. it echoes in the empty room, replaying your own sound for both of you to hear again and again before the chain is broken by a giggle.

his giggle.

“why are,” he picks the right time to trail his fingers down your body, dragging your swimsuit with them till it sits uncomfortably tight around the top of your hipbones, skintight fabric digging into the damp skin. “you laughing?”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty your tits are?” it’s crude and heartwarming all at once, quite like the man who says it and the little smile he shoots up in your direction as he rolls his tongue over your nipple once again.

“no, i can’t say they have.” the hands that have been resting on his shoulder, grasping them in a vice grip in fear of slipping off of him and and directly onto the concrete floor, gain enough confidence for you let one slide around to the back of his neck and thread your fingertips in the back of his locks, hair as soft as you’ve always imagined it to be. “you’re the first.”

“i’ll wear that title with honour,” he seems to delight in the way you’re carding through his hair, eyes closing while he tilts his head back further into your touch. a delighted sigh follows. “has anyone ever asked you to sit on their face?”

“again, no.”

“another honourable title for me, i guess.” san’s giving you whiplash, with all this switching between being his usual goofy self and the man that minutes before was speaking profanities on how you’d looked choking on his dick. he peaks his eyes open again, slowly, adjusting to the bright lights he stares up at each time he’s doing the backstroke. when he has the nerves to smile at you, all dreamy eyed and relaxed sitting beneath your body on the bench. “now, can you please stand up and get naked so you can fuck yourself on my tongue?”

this time, it’s your laugh that echoes in the air.

“stop, i’m being serious!” he seems to whine his way through his words, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly in a way you’re certain is going to drive you insane. “i can’t go another second like this, you literally sitting on my dick, without blowing my load. and i really don’t feel like having to explain to coach kwon why my team speedos are stained in cum.”

“you’re so-” you give up on trying to find a single word to describe him, knowing there’s no word that can quite capture choi san’s essence. “okay, okay, fine, but you kind of need to let go of me for me to, y’know, stand up.”

“oh, sorry bout that.” san’s sheepish smile shouldn’t be this cute, not when it’s followed by him removing his hands from your half-naked body.

reluctant, your feet meet the ground and you stand up from his lap. he seems to move quicker than you, no hesitation to be seen as he twists his body around and lays along the bench on his back, eyes all the while watching you expectantly.

your fingers are far from as nimble as his, and there’s a shake to them, meaning you’re a lot less slick with how you pull the swimsuit off yourself. you opt for killing two birds with one stone, dragging your shorts down alongside the red suit, till both are pooled around your feet and you’re begging with every cell in your body that you look more graceful than you feel, stepping out of the leg holes.

in all honesty, you’re more embarrassed with the fact he’d watched you remove your clothes than with how you’re now stood naked, legs a little shaky and the wetness gathering between your folds you’re suddenly so much more aware of, the cool air fighting against your pulsating heat.

“well?” san speaks with expectation, legs bent at the knee while the balls of his feet rest on the edge of the bench. “are you gonna just stand there or you gonna sit on my face?”

“are you... sure you want me to?” even you feel the idiocy behind asking such a thing, when he’s laying right there with eyes full of glee and a raging boner pressed against his hip, nothing but the familiar colours of your college to stop you from seeing him all his naked glory. still, you can’t help elaborating. “i mean, the bench isn’t exactly sturdy and, i mean, what if i slip off of you?”

“y/n, are you joking? you have to be joking!” his offence is playful enough to ease a little of the hesitation inside of you. “do you see these puppies, baby? these are my mad gains from flailing my silly little arms around in a pool six days a week!”

you think this can’t be real as you watch the golden boy of the school put on a show, flexing his arms in an effort to display his muscles and voicing the most ridiculous words that not even he seems to be taking seriously, a bubble of laughter popping in every sentence.

“i’m not gonna let you slip, now hurry up!” again with the whining.

“god, you’re so desperate!”

“for you? always.”

the following minute is made up of wobbled steps and a poor attempt at amping yourself up, repeating mantra after mantra in your head that you are the sex goddess and no man is going to make you feel nervous. not even if that man has a jaw one could slice diamonds with.

he’s got a firm grasp of your thighs before you’ve even got the chance to get comfortable, legs a little shaky as you hover over his naked chest and will your knees to find grip on the bench beneath them.

“come closer, my tongue’s not that long!” san’s pulling you up, closer, all the way to where his wanton mouth awaits you. as if to give you a preview of what awaits you, the kisses from before reduced to nothing, his tongue pops out to run over the smooth of his bottom lip. you repeat the process of trying to find balance, a position in which you don’t need to worry about toppling overboard. though, with the way his finger squeeze into your thigh, you doubt you’ll have to worry about that truly happening. “comfortable?”

“as i’ll ever be.”

“all the people that would die to be in your position, and you say that?” he tsks, tongue hitting off the roof of his mouth before a blow of air hits against your folds and, though it’s faint from the distance still between his mouth and where he wants it to be, it sends a jolt of excitement up your spine. “i’ll just have to make sure i over-perform, make you more eager for next time.”

neither of you choose to dwell on the words next time.

him, too occupied with getting his first taste, tongue licking a strip up your core and coming to a stop as the tip of it bumps against your clit.

you, too busy having the air knocked out of your lungs, hand unconsciously finding safety in gripping his hair as you lurch forward momentarily, mouth falling open in a quiet gasp that echoes around and around.

“hmm, make sure you hold on tight.” you know he’s teasing you, with his words, and with his eyes, and with his mouth that seems to find enjoyment in trailing itself over your clitoral hood and up your pubic bone. “you smell mouthwatering, you know? enough to make a man go feral.”

the chance to reply never comes, not when san makes his way back down to your clit and greets it with the stroke of his flattened tongue. every tiny nerve sparks to life under his touch and you feel yourself grow wetter, a wave of warm arousal leaking out of your hole. his tongue dives down to welcome it, not allowing more than a single drop- landing on his chin- to go to waste.

you don’t even notice the lack of his grip around your left leg until you feel it: the first few seconds of his fingertips probing around your soaked cunt, coating themselves in your liquid pleasure until it’s dripping down the back of his hand.

the first finger to enter your hole is gentle, tentative to the way your body receives him, his pointer and ring finger keeping your folds spread and allowing him the full view of the middle one slowly disappearing from sight, burying itself in the warmth of your pussy. distracted, his mouth pulls back and his head meets the bench again while his eyes soak in the sight above him, flickering up to catch your reaction when another finger enters you, this time with a lot less care as it forces you open around it.

“so pretty,” he mutters the words, more to himself than to you, delighting as he witnesses you struggling to bite back a pathetic moan when his digits curl within you. he repeats the action a couple times, flicking his wrist back and forth, fingers brushing over your tight walls each time and culminating in a curl that has him pressing against the spongy-like flesh inside. “so, so pretty.”

your hips begin to rut against his hand, meeting every one of his thrusts with perfect timing that has him reaching deeper, further, better places inside of you. all the while he’s just watching and admiring the furrow in your brow and the way the swells of your breast bounce in sync with you.

your pussy clenches tighter and his fingers fight to reach deeper before spreading themselves wider in an attempt to scissor you open. he’s giving it his all, a third finger slipping in despite the dull ache setting in his wrist while he coaxes you closer and closer to the tipping point.

san takes just as easy as he gives, and it’s that fact alone that drives him to pull his hand back, fingers withdrawing from you and the pleasure you’re pursuing.

“why’d you-” you heave through heavy breaths, brain fuzzy from the unvoiced orgasm you were so close to having, every nerve ready to tingle, every muscle ready to tremble, every toe ready to curl. “stop?”

“because,” the wet smack of his fingers hitting against your clit is louder than the whimper that drops from your mouth. san hears both, however, and grins, quickly landing another smack against your engorged clit. “the goal is to make you cum on my face, not my fingers. consider them the appetiser, something to awaken your senses.”

his tongue licks in an upward motion, starting from the tip of your taint and ending at your clit, and you get deja-vu to just minutes before, when you’d first felt his tongue on your melting skin, the saliva it leaves in a trail behind it serving to cool you down. a shiver runs up your spine as he blows air onto your cunt, the pressure of it doing wonders to stimulate your clit.

“would you stop?”

“look who’s whining now.” san, despite what he says, does as you ask and puts an end what feels like unending teasing- really, it’s hardly been a minute but the pulsing of your heat and the loss of a climax leave you no room to think about something as abstract as time.

his lips make a victorious return, wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking against the pulsing nub. every so often, he delivers a couple kitten licks- ups and downs, sides to sides, figure eights- before swiftly returning to kissing your most intimate parts.

in an attempt to make your toes curl, he dips lower and teases the tips of his tongue over your entrance, wet muscle moving over wet skin and tastebuds covering themselves in your essence, till the moans echoing off the walls are indistinguishable between san’s and your own.

“you can move,” he grunts into you after a few minutes of repeated alternating between kissing your clit and tonguing at your hole. it’s muffled with the way he’s holding you down against his face and you feel his lips brush against your lower ones as he speaks. “need you to move. wanna see you use me, pretty.”

and, who are you to deny the man?

you’re hesitant at first, just like you were all those weeks ago as you sank to your knees for him. you test the waters and give a single roll of your hips. it feels good, great, especially when paired with his own efforts at dragging his tongue over you.

it takes a few more attempts, and san’s patience wearing thin to the point he resorts to grabbing a firm hold of your arse cheeks and planting you flat on his mouth, tongue flat and eyes staring up at you in a demand to move, goddamn it. 

move you most certainly do, grinding down on his tongue like you’ve done many a time with different men’s cocks. it’s messy, sloppy in the way that his spit mingles with your wetness, a cocktail of fluids sliding down his throat, and painting his lips, and dribbling down his chin as he eats you like a man starved that’s alas getting a taste of the sweetest fruit.

the rhythm of your hips is thrown off when the man beneath you switches from having you grinding down onto his flattened tongue to slipping the muscle inside of your hole, thrusting it as far as up as the length of it allows him to. with every time your body comes crashing down on his mouth, the tip of his nose bumps against your clit, forcing you to angle yourself upwards to gain more of the friction.

hands find hair, lips part in unabashed moans, thighs shake with the oncoming of an orgasmic state of mind.

the moment builds too quickly, too unexpectedly, like the ghost of your stolen climax is back with a vengeance and set on ensuring there will be no denying it this time.

“s-shit,” your eyes squeeze shut, too scared to look down at his ecstasy filled eyes in fear of it being what finally tips you over the edge. “i’m gonna- ah- gonna cum.”

san pays no mind to your warning. if anything, he takes it as a challenge, an invisible timer beginning in his head and forcing him to see how quickly he can get you to unravel all over his face. he’s getting everything he asked for, your naked body a mess above him as you fuck yourself on his tongue and your hands, with minds of their own, sliding up to grab and squeeze at your tits.

he watches how the pastel blue nail polish clashes with the darkened colour of your abused nipples, fingers working to pinch, and twist, and pull at them as you lose yourself in the moment.

when you cum, it’s with rolled-back eyes and shaky thighs, his hands gripping at you tighter to steady you as you sway above him, his tongue working at coaxing you through your high.

he licks up every drop of cum he can manage, until you’re cringing in overstimulation and reaching down to push him away. he let’s you move him, mouth moving to trail a couple kisses over your inner thigh, something akin to lipstick stains- yet so much dirtier in nature- being left behind on your soft flesh.

“told you i wouldn’t let you fall,” he’s the first to speak, partly because he correctly thinks you’re incapable of forming anything coherent in the afterglow of your orgasm, but mostly because he wants- no, needs to hear you praise him.

needs to hear you praise him like he’d done for you that night, eyes still hooded and chest visibly heaving as he finished processing watching you swallow every spurt of hot cum he’d shot down your throat. the praise never comes.

well, at least not from you.

at first he thinks he’s imagining the sound of clapping. it’s slow, and booming, and tinted with the slightest hint of sarcasm. it grows louder though, far too loud for it to just be in his imagination. the stilling of your body, going rigid as you fall back onto his chest, the sticky remnants of your orgasm cold against his heated skin, confirms that you hear the clapping too.

“bravo, choi. always thought your reputation with the ladies was a little overhyped, but i stand corrected.”

never has he hated the sight of park seonghwa so much, not even in the times they’ve been head-to-head in the final lap and the older male’s offensively bright swim-cap is all san can see every time he twists his head to catch a breath of air.

the three swimmers stand on the opposite end of the swimming pool, all in various stages of undress.

there’s wooyoung, who looks like he’s not so much as dried himself with a towel, still dressed in his team swimwear. and yunho, who’s got a towel wrapped around his waist messily, hair damp against his forehead and likely smelling of the cheap shampoo provided in the locker-room showers. lastly, seonghwa, who’s seemingly fully dressed spar for one of those irritating long coats san always sees him trailing around campus in.

one look into your panicked eyes is enough for san to spring into action, fumbling to sit himself up and pull your body flush against his, facing your naked back in the direction of his rivals.

he bites back a groan as you shift in his lap, unknowingly- or maybe you do know- pressing your soaked centre against his erection, which already strains inside the confines of the nylon material, leaving very little to the imagination.

“do you mind?” he’s glad the words come out clearly, booming across the pool at them and their unwavering staring.

“not at all.”

san holds you tighter against him, eyeing at your discarded swimsuit on the floor as he listens to a shuffle of footsteps. assuming the three men have made their way back into the locker-room, he’s speechless when he looks up to find them approaching the bench, seonghwa leading the trio with a secure grip on the back of wooyoung’s neck, whose eyes can’t seem to leave the floor, while yunho trails a little behind them, one hand grasping onto the towel around him.

“get your hands off her!” he leans back, pulling you with him, in an attempt to stray out of seonghwa’s reach as he extends his hand out. he fails, however, and the tips of seonghwa’s elongated fingers brush over your shoulder.

a shiver runs down you, one that san feels, the unexpected touch tickling your nerves.

“she’s a grown up,” the eldest of the men muses as he builds a rhythm out of how his fingers soother over your sweat slicked skin. “who i’m sure can speak for herself if she wants my hands off her.”

out of all the men, seonghwa has always been the one san despised most. between the constant boasting of wealth- money he acquired through labor, though not the working kind- and the disrespect he’s never had a problem showing towards others, he never fails to strike a nerve, awakening a dark part of san’s brain that activates his fight or flight response. by far, however, his arrogance is the worst, that sense of entitlement that drives him to think everything and everyone is a piece of clay for him to mold and manipulate till they fit his ideal shape.

the rich boy’s hand smoothes over your naked shoulder and san can’t resist glaring up at him.

“c’mon san, now’s hardly the time to be modest,” behind the oldest swimmer, yunho and wooyoung seem to be battling an inner conflict, yunho fighting to keep his towel in place and wooyoung fighting to keep the shame off his face while his dick visibly strains against the confines of his chlorine-covered swimwear. “not after the show you two just put on.”

“we didn’t,” it’s the first time you manage to speak since covering san’s tongue in your cum, breathing at last steady and face hidden from everyone’s view, much to san’s despair. “know you were watching.”

“and, if you had known, would you have stopped?” yunho is the one asking the question and, suddenly, san’s so much more aware of what exactly he’s hiding underneath his towel.

you give no answer.

“of course she wouldn’t,” seonghwa answers for you, hand moving to grasp the back of your neck. with no warning, he grips a little too tight for comfort and and yanks you backwards, till you’re staring right into san’s eyes and the only thing keeping you perched in his lap is seonghwa’s body pressed flat against yours. “there’s nothing a whore loves more than an audience, right?”

if put on trial in a court of law and sworn to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, over whether or not you’d just clenched around nothing at park seonghwa’s degrading name, you’d plead that you never did such a thing.

you’d be found guilty.

“poor woo nearly came untouched just watching you two. isn’t that right?” the eldest turns to stare back at where you imagine wooyoung to be. “pretty boy nearly whined just at the thought of being in san’s position, a mouth full of cunt and someone using him like the fuck-toy he is.”

the air grows thick, between you, and san, and every other living being in the room. it feels like the walls are closing in on themselves with every second that passes, the sweat dripping down your back and coming to a rest between your arse cheeks evidence that the space is heating up. or maybe it’s just your body, hardly processing the high it’s just come down from and there’s already another source for a new-found arousal, a source in the shape of three muscular men stood behind you and one beneath you, eyes wary as he gazes into your own, like he wants to ask if you’re okay but all the blood is too busy circulating in his crotch for his brain to be productive.

“now, i hardly think it’s very nice of you to get our wooyoung all riled up and not even offer to help him out.” you decide you’re being lulled into a false sense of safety the second you feel the pressure of seonghwa’s hand leave your skin. behind you, there’s a shuffling of footsteps that call you to crane your neck and catch a glimpse of what exactly is going on but san’s eyes beg you to keep staring into his, to count the galaxies that dance within them while he grips at your waist. “so the chance to offer is off the table and you’re simply going to do as told. doesn’t that sound easier, hmm? no having to make pesky decisions, just spread those legs and follow orders.”

at last, you get your first glimpse at jung wooyoung.

he sits down on the bench, no more than a breath of space between where you and san are perched. he’s a vision in himself, shoulders hunched and embarrassed face the same shade of red as the tip of his cock, an angry looking bulbous head poking out the top of far-too-tight speedos.

san’s grip tightens the longer you stare at the other boy, gaze dancing over the shape of his body and mouth-watering as, for the first time, you see the appeal of jung wooyoung. never before have you understood why eyes follow him in the hallways, like he’s more than just another pretty boy on campus- something that’s in abundance. but you see it now, understand the appeal of his stand-out nose; and the veins that run down his arms; and floppy style to his hair, that seems to be calling out to have your fingers running through it. 

with no prior warning, the grip on your hips tightens even more, till san is digging crescents into the soft skin and he’s lifting you, off of his lap and right into wooyoung’s.

the usually boisterous boy’s eyes meet yours, no longer filled with that spark of defiance and, instead, glazed over in tears, a quiet pleading being exchanged between you.

only, you’re unsure what he’s begging of you.

“are you going to just sit there,” seonghwa speaks up, boredom in his tone that has you picturing him rolling his eyes and picking at his manicured nails. “or are you going to help the poor pup cum?”

“what?!” that certainly helps you find your voice, and the guts to turn around and look at the man.

you find him stood closer than you imagined, with tailored trousers hugging his thighs and a perfectly ironed shirt tucked into them, the last few messy buttons the only indication he’d rushed to dress himself. eyes looking past him, you find more of a friendly aura in yunho, who, despite fighting a battle against the towel wrapped around his figure, manages to shoot a smile at you.

and then there’s san, who stands with muscled arms crossed over his chest and a painfully obvious boner resting in the confines of his swimwear, though he’s done a better job at keeping himself concealed than the boy beneath you. his face appears indifferent, yet the twitch in his eye speaks of a tamed anger, a frustration he’s yet to unleash on the men who’d interrupted him amidst his feast.

“are you now deaf along with being dumb or something?” the eldest pulls your attention back to him with little effort, a smirk meeting the glare you shoot his way. “you made that brat hard, now do your job and fix the mess you’ve made.”

words of protest get lost in a surprised gasp as the boy in question takes your hand in his, veiny hand guiding you down to a veiny shaft. wooyoung wraps both of your fingers over his leaking cock, his holding yours in place around him while he ruts his hips up once, twice into your hold, the action sending his swimwear even further down the his length and exposing nearly the full sight of it to the swimming hall.

you don’t mean to compare, yet you’re incapable of ignoring the fact that while wooyoung may be on the slightly shorter side compared to san, he’s certainly leading in the thickness department, with a mushroomed head and the prettiest trail of trimmed hairs leading down his pelvis.

he guides you over his shaft a number of times, a little less shy now as he outwardly whines when your thumb runs over his tip, wiping away the fat bead of precum resting upon it. at some point, he moves his hand away, needing both of his free to lean back on the bench, yet yours keeps moving at it’s own volition, stroking him in a pattern of threes, interrupting every trio with a swipe over his tip or a fondle of his still-concealed balls.

“please,” the whine in his voice is so unlike the jung wooyoung you’ve watched week after week, hurling abuse and echoing boasts of his own talents while keeping himself afloat in the swimming pool.

“he asked nicely.” you’d just about forgotten about everyone else in the room, until seonghwa’s irritatingly unbothered voice serves to remind you of his presence. “rule number one: good behaviour is rewarded.”

“what do i,” you interrupt your own question to glance over wooyoung once more. “do?” you pinch your thigh, skin stinging as nails bite it, and confirm with yourself that this is not a dream but, in fact, very much real.

jung wooyoung is hard and begging you to do something.

“i don’t care how you do it, just put one of your holes to good use for once and make him cum.”

there’s still an echo of seonghwa’s voice by the time you successfully manage to rid wooyoung of his swimwear, the damp fabric clinging to the warm skin and the taut muscles of his thighs. the boy isn’t much help either, seemingly reduced to nothing but a writhing, panting mess instead of someone competent enough to raise himself off the bench just enough for you to undress him.

the sight is mesmerising, one you’re certain will remain ingrained in your memory till the day you die: wooyoung, disheveled and untouched, with his achingly hard cock pressed flat against his lower stomach, his swimmer-thighs spread with a set of balls between them that you find yourself near salivating over as a trickle of his own precum runs down them.

“your cock’s...” you begin to speak, yet trail off as your digits wrap themselves around his shaft, just to delight in the way his breath jumps when you drag your hand upwards and give a soft squeeze as you reach the head. “so pretty, woo.”

“youngie.” seonghwa cuts in from behind you. “he prefers to be called youngie when he’s getting his cock teased.”

“yeah, youngie?” you try it out.

instantly, he nods and something akin to a whimper flies out of him.

fascinated by his shaky breaths and his pretty chest, where warm, tanned skin appears to be near glowing under the swimming halls bright lights as his cheeks flush a palette full of reds and pinks, your eyes are completely fixed on him. there’s something vulnerable and breakable about the way he’s looking at your with the widest of eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip receiving countless abuse from his teeth.

never have you been so desperate to push someone past their own limits.

officially running on nothing but pure instincts, you close your mind off to thoughts, like how the boy you’d spent weeks avoiding and missing is stood only metres away, witnessing the way the tip of your finger teases over the slit of his sport rival’s cock. or like how park seonghwa, perhaps the campus’ most infamous trust-fund baby, seems to have complete control of the situation at hand, yourself and jung wooyoung nothing but idolised dolls he’s moving into whatever obscene position he wants you in.

instead, you focus on how wooyoung’s eyes roll back and he lets out a gasp when you gather up fluids from within your salivating mouth and part your own lips, watching how your own spit drips onto his lower stomach, and your hand, and his painfully hard cock.

the saliva serves not only as a visual pleasure, something that’s awakening inside of you at the sight of it leaving you with whole new kind of excitement bubbling along your body, but as a physical pleasure for wooyoung, who seems to have no protest to how much easier it is to slide your hand up his length with the added lubrication of your own spit. 

“fuck...” he curses under his breath and his hands find purchase on your body, one gripping your hip while the other grabs at your forehand, like he’s scared you’ll release the grip you have on him and strip away the sweet release of friction. “don’t just focus on the tip- shit, ah- play with my balls too.”

“wooyoung!” ready to oblige, ready to give the pretty faced boy anything he demanded of you, you’ve no time to think of a reply before the ringmaster of this circus reminds you of his overlooking presence behind your back. “stop speaking like an ungrateful brat and take what you’re given. or else... well, i’m sure you don’t need reminding of what happens to pups that misbehave.”

the way jung wooyoung’s whole body grows rigid beneath you, paired with the countless times park seonghwa has butted in to speak on the boy’s sexual preferences, leaves you with the sense that the two are not only acquainted with how each other’s bodies move underwater..

“s-sorry,” this is not the voice of boastful jung wooyoung, who near bounces down the college halls and airdrops nudes in class because he’s bored. this is a voice that’s soft and meek. like a beady-eyed puppy, so quick to submit to it’s owner. “just feels too good. i’m sorry”

“yeah, you will be sorry.” seonghwa’s hand is cold against your back and it lulls a shiver out of you as fingers trickle down your spine like water off a duck’s wings. part of you hates him for stealing wooyoung’s attention off of you just as you were beginning to revel in it, a larger part of you wants to know why the sternness in his voice is enough to have your clit aching to be touched. “spitfire, be a good cocksleave and sit on his dick.”

“ok, stop!” a sense of shame comes over you when it takes hearing san’s outburst to remember the fact he’s watching the scene unfold. “don’t you think you’re taking this too far now, park seonghwa? i know you and wooyoung have your... agreement on how you treat each other, but don’t drag someone else into it. not when she never even asked for this.”

“you had your tongue tasting the eighth wonder of the world on that bench twenty minutes ago, both of you knowing there was a chance you’d be caught, and you want to tell me no one was asking for this?”

“that was private! you guys are the ones who-”

“there’s no such thing as privacy in a public area. besides, it’s hardly like she’s not enjoying this. if anything, i think spitfire doesn’t like the way you’re getting in the way of her teaching youngie a lesson in obedience.” you’re naive to think no one would notice the way you’ve began to grind down on wooyoung’s cock, stealing whimpers out of him as the soaked lips of your pussy rubbed up against him and holding back your own moans each time his tip meets the bundle of nerves that make up your clit. “choi, if you’re that much of a pissy pants that can’t enjoy himself even just this once in life, then feel free to leave. i’m sure the four of us will be too occupied to notice your absence.”

you’re not paying close enough attention to figure out if san’s newfound silence is due to his departure, or if he’s simply too stunned to speak, your eyes focused on nothing and no one but the boy at your mercy.

the initial burn of wooyoung breaching your entry reminds you of how long it’s been since you’d been stretched open by something other than someone’s cold fingers or wagging tongue. it’s been more or less three long months of juggling test after test, assignments piling up on your desktop and a relationship with your now ex-boyfriend being tossed completely into the gutter.

not once had you thought your return to the world of sexual bliss would be in front of an audience, much less at the very place you work.

doubting that it’s been as long for him as it has for you, wooyoung still spares nothing when it comes to reacting to your touch. with eyes squeezing shut, head rolling back, abdomen muscles flexing along side every shaken intake of breath, the boy puts on a show so pornographic it puts the professionals to shame. a whine exits his lips, lips that carry marks of his own teeth and look like they’re in need of a healthy dose of chapstick, and look so disgustingly kissable that your own tingle at the thought.

all those rumours of jung wooyoung being a camboy rush to the forefront of your mind, feeling truer than ever when your eyes take in the bob of his adam’s apple, and the perfectly timed run of his tongue over his lower lip, and the pretty way in which the prominent veins in his hands looks as he clamps his grip down on your hips.

he’s a sight worth paying for. 

“are you okay?” not the first thing you’d imagined saying after sinking all the way down on his cock, the need to check up on him taking over before you’d even noticed it’s existence.

“yeah...” he sighs his way through the word, eyes still closed and grip still very much tight on your skin, blunt fingertips likely leaving crescent moons you’ll find yourself staring at for days to come, memories of this moment replaying in a rose-tinted haze. “just need a second, you- you feel good, fuck me.”

“i’m kinda already doing that, youngie.” you giggle, like a lovesick adolescent speaking to their crush of the week, but the boy’s instant smile upon hearing it puts out the fire of shame building in the pit of your stomach.

“hmm,” he hums back, acknowledging your words without giving you the satisfaction of hearing him tell you how you’re correct. “are you okay?”

wooyoung flips the question on you and it parallels with the way he pulls the rains in physically, lithe hips thrusting upwards in search of feeling more, reaching deeper inside of you. in the back of your mind you already picture a look of displeasure on park seonghwa’s face, scowling lips loading up to berate you and demand you take repossession of jung wooyoung’s sanity.

“yeah, i’m-” with the eldest man in mind, you stop and compose yourself, as well as you can while wooyoung’s mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, the tops of your breasts. “i’m wondering who told you you were allowed to touch me?”

control is easily regained, all it takes is your hand squeezing around jung wooyoung’s throat and your soaked walls clenching around his aching cock and he’s melting like ice cream on a warm summer’s day, leaving behind a sticky mess.

satisfaction and pleasure come crashing in tandem, wave after wave moving in motion with each lethargic roll of your body against the swimmer’s, who seems to be a quicker learner than you’d believed him to be, hands flying off your body like it was made up of hot stones and, instead, now holding a firm and grounding grip of the bench beneath you both.

“harder.” you feel a hint of emotion within park seonghwa’s voice this time he speaks. it’s fleeting, and hard to make out quite what feeling it is he’s experiencing, but it’s there and it’s certainly a step up from the usual shameless, egotistical, megalomaniac tone he takes on. “squeeze his throat tighter.”

under the possession of his commanding tone, you find yourself caving into his command, fingers pressing a little harder into wooyoung’s warm skin. the boy gulps down whatever pride he has and delivers a pleasured whine. you grind down harder and an evil, twisted part of you you’ve never met before longs to laugh at the way he so desperately is struggling to keep his composure, fighting back the urge to meet your hips with his own upward thrusts.

so, you do. 

“hear that, youngie?” seonghwa’s voice becomes less grating each time you hear it, once an unwelcome and intrusive thought but now a second voice and a valued player in a game of wreck the wooyoung. “you’re being laughed at. isn’t that just pathetic?”

“y-yes, fuck-” he falls victim to your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock in a vice grip. the image of confidence withers away so easily to reveal a teary-eyed, pretty-faced, cum-desperate man. “i’m pathetic.”

“yeah, you are.” seonghwa circles his way around the rocking bench, no longer out of view hidden behind your back but, instead, staring you down with piercing eyes that cut through you like a knife to hot butter. “he’s getting close. never lasts long, really, even seen him cum untouched just from giving me head. but that’s okay, isn’t it youngie? you’re a slut for having your sack drained, huh?”

the swimmer beneath you has never looked redder than he does right now, secrets of his sexual nature getting exposed to the people he likely considers his biggest athletic competition. though you probably should, you don’t push him away when his face finds safety in the crook of your neck, parted lips covering your burning skin in sticky drool.

“don’t let him fool you guys, he’s into the degrading nature of it all. trust me.” you wonder if it should concern you the way seonghwa speaks about jung wooyoung as though he’s nothing but a pet, a possession of which he just so happens to have complete control over. you’re more concerned with the fact it excites you. “call him a good boy, i dare you.”

the words haven’t even formed in your throat and the boy between your thighs is gripping onto your waist a little tighter, lips near pouting and eyes screwed shut in uncontrollable pleasure, burning down his spine and threatening to push him over the edge of sexual bliss.

you consider having mercy, the inexperienced side of you thinking the boy looks like he’s full of shame and embarrassment. the throbbing of his rock hard cock repeatedly stuffing your aching cunt reminds you he’s getting off on the humiliation.

“is he a good boy, though?” you stare up at park seonghwa, not even sparing a whimpering wooyoung any attention as he begins a rambled protest to defend his good behaviour. “i mean, i don’t remember telling him he could touch me. do you, hwa?”

the hands that grip you tightly let go quick, like your skin were an unexpectedly warm stove, scorching his skin right off him.

“i don’t remember either,” the eldest’s agreement has you reeling in a way you never expected, filling you with a new found sense of control.

a control that is ripped away far too quickly, like park seonghwa sensed you growing falsely confident over the situation at hand.

like a shark circling it’s prey, the tall man makes his way back around the bench, each fall of his shoe-covered feet echoing in the quiet swim hall. click, click, click, and he’s right at your back, not a word uttered as the soft of his palm lands on the nape of your neck. achingly slow does it travel down the expanse of your back, not a single noise filling the space other than the rise and fall of your body on top of wooyoung’s and the same boy’s poorly contained moans and mewls of pleasure.

the silence is interrupted by your own shocked gasp, mouth falling agape in shock as your movements come to a complete halt. his hands, no longer soft and delicate, grip you in an iron-tight hold, fingers greedy as they dig into your meaty flesh with no mercy or regard for the pain it may inflict on you.

“no, get up,” like a switch was flipped in as little as a minute, park seonghwa’s voice has lost all sense of the excitement it had whilst he spoke on jung wooyoung’s dirty endeavours and has returned back to the cold, callous, commanding tone it had originally.

he sounds angry, feels angry in the way the fingers of his free hand tangle themselves in the hair at the back of your head and give a harsh tug, forcing your head back till you’re met with his scowling face and perfectly groomed hair, even in it’s dampened state it seems to frame his face perfectly.

“what?” you babble out, dumbstruck, much like the desperate boy beneath you who’s began to mutter apology after apology between pleadings of please no don’t do this and i promise i’ll behave, i’ll keep my hands to myself.

none of it works.

“you heard me. get. up.” the fingers on your waist tug, pull, drag you away from the quivering mess that has become of jung wooyoung, who near sobs as the cool air hits his now painfully hard cock, tip redder than the bottom of your favourite heels and a vein more prominent under his sensitive skin than the ones on his muscular arms. you’re not given much of a chance to process what’s happening before seonghwa speaks again. “wooyoung, up, now. you’re not getting to cum, so get off the bench and make room for someone else.”

the boy makes no further attempt to protest, cheeks painted pink in shame and chest shining with sweat as he shakily rises to his feet, head hung low when you watch him walk out of your line of sight.

then, your knees meet the floor.

park seonghwa chuckles as you go down, hands finding grip in your hair and forcing you to sit up right. heart beating faster, your mind begins to race with questions of what comes next, who comes next.

what dirty desires are about to be unveiled within you, forced into the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the swimming hall?

“jeong, you’re up,” seonghwa’s knee digs into your back and his fingers tug until your scalp begins to sting a little. you don’t want to like it but, in life, you don’t always get what you want.

there’s a series of shuffles behind you, followed by heavy footsteps. there’s no rush, yet no hesitation, just calm and collected footsteps of someone making their way over to do god knows what with you.

when jeong yunho, with his towel that’s looking a lot tighter around his crotch still around his waist, steps into frame, an inexplicable sense of comfort washes over you.

maybe it’s the way he smiles down at you, or the fact his hands brush seonghwa’s off of you, or the way his fingers take a hold of your chin once he’s seated in front of you.

maybe it’s just the fact he’s jeong yunho, campus himbo with a reputation for walking girls home at night just to make sure they’re safe and for singing britney spears with no shame each time the karaoke mic gets passed around.

whatever it is, it’s turning you on.

your knees are burning with fresh pain as park seonghwa shoves you closer to the mammoth of a man and you can’t help but swallow down the ball of anxiety growing in your throat.

everything about jeong yunho’s demeanour has always seemed large, with powerful arms that drag his body through the weight of water and large hands that effortlessly carry countless textbooks through the university halls; a tall frame that helps him stand out in any crowd and a personality loud enough to set off alarms; his thighs a muscular stairway leading up to a well rounded, remarkably defined posterior. it’s safe to say he’s carried a reputation for some time, one that consists of whispers between girls on campus who recount just how well endowed he really is. 7 inches, 9 inches, 12 inches, you’ve heard it all, each girl claiming it to be bigger than the last.

unfortunately, there’s no ruler at your disposal to uncover the truth of the rumours, but you confirm he’s certainly large as you watch him undo the towel. larger than you’ve ever seen before, with a thickness to match, and two heavy looking balls decorating the base.

he wraps a hand around it and you watch how he gives a light squeeze at the head, slowly sliding down the length of it till he reaches the tuft of groomed hairs on his pelvic bone. one of his hands alone holds half of his cock, leaving you almost certain you’d need to use both hands on him.

“d’you want it, sweetheart?” his words are teasing but his voice is soft, a complete one-eighty to the verbal berating you’ve been receiving- and enjoying- from park seonghwa.

you’re sure he notices the way you clench your thighs as he slaps his cock once, then twice against his stomach, the precum leaking out on to his tanned skinned.

there’s an itch inside your throat, one you imagine only he can scratch.

“you wanna taste it?” he’s still speaking to you through the arousal that fogs over your brain, commanding your tongue to swipe over your bottom lip as you burn your gaze at the glistening liquid on his warm skin, tastebuds aching to have him paint them in white.

you nod your head.

his own throws itself back, a chuckle rupturing out of his chest as he continues to tease himself with his hand.

“fuck, yeah, bet you can’t wait to taste my cock, feel it stab the back of your tight throat.” a smile should never look so sweet while it’s part of the same mouth spewing out such filth. somehow, jeong yunho makes it work. “gonna get it nice and wet for me, yeah? make it sloppy, i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock.”

the knee that’s suddenly digging it’s way into your back has no mercy. you wince, pull in a sharp breath and inch just that little bit closer to the bench. like a glove fits a hand, you slip right in between the muscled tree trunks that make up jeong yunho’s thighs. 

you wonder, if only momentarily, what sweet a death it would be to be crushed between them, taut muscles constricting the flow of air to your lungs like a boa with its prey.

but there’s a far more preferable way to be choked by the man before you, body carved out in such definition you fear michael angelo himself stands in admiration of it.

his hand snakes its way around your body, warm and heavy and imposing with the grip it settles for at the base of your neck. in spite of the sharp stab coming from behind- where you have no doubt one park seonghwa stands with disgruntled impatience written all over his irritatingly perfect face- there is no doubt in your mind that the man in front of you holds the reigns. with eyes of honey and lips of velvet, he peers down at you with a tendered expression, saying nothing yet everything with the gentle, repeated sooth of his thumb over your skin.

you need no verbal instructions this time around.

a hand grips the base of him as the other squeezes the flesh of your own thigh, piercing your skin with just enough pressure to assure you this is the reality you find yourself in, rather than some twisted, substance influenced dream.

the first taste is the sweetest, tongue a missionary sent into the foreign land of his body to discover the way he reacts as you drag it over the tip. he gives nothing but a squeeze to the back of your neck; and that crumbles you under his control.

with a few more kitten licks- for good luck, if anything,- the show begins with the parting of your lips, the widening of your mouth, the burning of your skin as you struggle with your ability to swallow him whole. you make it no further than a third of his length before he’s tugging gently on your roots and bringing you back to the surface of existence.

“breathe, okay,” his voice is gentle, calming your nerves yet sending your heart into a fit of patternless beats. “inhale, exhale, got it? through the nose, that’s gonna help you relax.”

doing as he says, you swallow three whole breaths. shaky, ragged, each feeling hollow in your chest in comparison to the weight of his cock on your tongue.

“pretty girl,” he practically coos, hand cupping your chin as his thumb smoothes over the swell of your bottom lip. it’s tender, sweet, and almost enough to make you forget the sight of his engorged cock that sits angrily between his tree-trunk shaped thighs, crying out for the return of your mouth’s affection. “someone’s gotta teach you to not be greedy, hmm? small little mouth of yours is no fit for me, don’t go choking on it.”

heat flashes between your thighs, your heartbeat dropping right down to your clit and leaving you with a burning ache, the kind only a gentleman like this could soothe. your fingers may have to do, however, if the stubborn arsehole behind you would be so kind as to let you enjoy yourself.

the way park seonghwa curls his hand round the front of your neck and flexes his nimble fingers- that goddamn family heirloom ring a punishing cold to your warm skin, near brandishing you as touched by some nepotism child- when you do so little as clench your thighs together to relieve the pressure, or lack-there-of, between your thighs tells you he’ll grant you no such fun.

“you’d need to have something big enough for her to choke on,” san, precious san. still here, still somewhere beneath this god-forsaken tin-can roof swimming pool, watching you bruise your knees and your ego for another man, another one of his team-mates. what must he think of you? has he lost whatever respect he may have had? does he think he’d been just another body to exchange fluids with, that night at the party? if you could just see his face, you’d not need to wonder all these things. his eyes, they always give him away, too earnest and pure for his own good.

“shut it, choi,” yunho’s bark isn’t half as loud as seonghwa’s booming commands have been, and are nowhere near as malignant. if anything, the gentle giant is humoured by his team-mate’s words, as if he knows they’re a preposterous thing to say about him. then again, you can’t imagine any man remaining humble about themselves if they were so well-endowed. “or do you wanna crack out the measuring tape again and remind yourself of just how much of me there is to choke on?”

silence.

it takes a few moments for the spotlight to return to you, a gradual shift from playful to lust driven energy encapsulating the broad frame of the man before. he cups your cheek, feather-light touch smoothing over your skin while his eyes burrow daggers into your soul.

why must his shoulders be so wide? it almost angers you as much as it sends a wave of heat between your legs.

almost, but not quite.

“‘s cute,” he half mumbles, distracted by the sight you paint below him on your knees, bruises already forming and thighs clenching for some relief of pressure. “your little pussy’s all wet just from having my cock in your mouth.”

“i think you’re forgetting she was bouncing on woo’s dick a few minutes ago, yunho,” the devil on your shoulder won’t let you rest, hand snaking through the threads of your hair and tugging on your roots. not enough to hurt, just enough to sting. “have some modesty.”

“sure, let’s act like i’m not the one who had her cumming all over my face a while ago.” san mumbles a string of words you wish you could unhear, face heating up as the shame burns through your bloodstream.

how had you gotten here?

you’re allowed no such freedom to ponder over previous actions as jeong yunho’s all encompassing frame works to remind you of where you find yourself: on your knees dressed in nothing but your own shame- shame which seems to slip off of you, piece by piece, baring you shamelessly to this pack of wolf-eyed boys’ for their eyes to feast upon.

strong, veiny hands reach out and drag you forwards, just an inch yet it’s all you need to feel the weight of park seonghwa’s domineering figure float off of you, rendering you under the control of this much larger, far smilier looking man. “eyes on me, okay? don’t wanna miss the way i’m about to make them roll back.”

there begins a game of push and pull, where jeong yunho pushes you closer and closer to his evident arousal, all the while teasing you as he pulls his hips back, keeping your waiting mouth open and empty, and oh-so frustrated at the feeling of being so close yet so far away from his dripping tip.

the first real taste you get of him does, in fact, nearly have your eyes rolling back. a kitten lick, barely there yet fully felt, running over the underside of his cock, a taste of salted skin, and musky sweat, and stale chlorine mixing in with the warmth of him flooding your senses. his reaction is no more composed than yours, blatantly parting his lips in a gasp and bucking his hips up, forwards, any direction they need follow to chase after your mouth.

happy to comply, you take pride in tasting him a second time, this time right over the growing drop of pre-cum pebbling on his tip. white flashes behind your closing eyes as his grip in your hair tightens, a pulse of heat firing straight down your spine as your mind floods with images of what it must be like to watch this man, this gentleman, this figure that so wholly encompasses what it means to be a himbo in this day and age lose his cool and revolt into his most carnal, basal instincts to take whatever pleasure he needs from you with a reckless abandon, burrow his throbbing cock down your throat till the beat of his heart takes over your own.

instead, you settle for wrapping your lips around him, at last, and letting him guide you just that little bit down his length. the weight of him feels nice, a strange sense of comfort birthing in your bones as you grow used to feel of him taking up your palate. his breaths seem to run in tandem with the inches he sinks deep between your parted lips.

a deep breath, he lowers you further, till your left cheek begins to bulge out.

tongue pinned to the floor of your mouth, you make use of it as best you can, rolling it over the bottom of his shaft and earning yourself a plethora of gratifying sounds, each deep and desperate and crooning straight out of jeong yunho’s broad chest. 

another deep breath, another inch.

for all the false dominance you wield over the situation, with the heat of your mouth and spill of your own saliva slickening his cock, his real and visceral dominance doubles it by tenfold, with a hand on the back of your neck, guiding your every move, and a knowing, gentle look cast downwards at you from where he sits propped on the bench, thighs a heavy mass to case your body between. a silly little voice in your head whispers a seductive tale of how easily this man could get you in a headlock and suffocate your fragile windpipes. a wave of heat, this one going right down to your core and forcing you to pay attention to it, shifting awkwardly and clenching the muscles in your own legs in hopes of getting some pitiful amount of pressure.

all breathing stops as he hits the back of your throat.

hands pulling tight, a biting pain ripping through your hair and a tired gag creeping out of your constricting throat, yunho holds you still and strong, as unmoving as the mountains that fill the horizon from your bedroom window.

he’s not even fully in, an arguably obscene amount of him still awaiting some form of attention beyond the spill of the spit filling up your mouth. but there’s nowhere for it to go, not within your mouth at least, and so you manoeuvre your hand up and grip the neglected inches, the tip of your pinkie teasingly brushing over the swell of his balls.

he lurches forward, gasping in a breath of air at last. “fucking christ- shit,” he grits his teeth. “her mouth’s warm.”

“well, obviously. this your first time getting a blowjob or something, jeong?” god, the reminder of seonghwa being here, somewhere behind you, fox eyes judging your every move and keeping his cool, no matter how hard you’d seen his cock straining in those ridiculous pant-suit trousers he sports. it’s sickening.

“yeah, yunho, watch out before you have a repeat of 2019.”

if the taller jeong wants to snap at the other, you never find out, instead dedicating yourself to the glory of worshipping him between your parted lips and tight throat, jaw ready to lock itself in place so long as it keeps him inside.

you treat him differently than you’d treated san that night. you’d been tipsy then, buzzing off the colourful shots of who-knows-what you’d been conned into downing a half hours before, mind hazy as you kneeled between him and teased your tongue over every crevice of him it could reach, dripping him in drool and working an ache into your overused tongue by the time you got watched him spill over the edge of ecstasy. that wasn’t even about san’s pleasure, no real care put into getting him off, your own selfish need to indulge in the pleasure of feeling, tasting, worshipping him taking precedence.

but, right now, you’re overwhelmingly sober, mind hazed only by a cloud of inexplicable lust that rolled in the moment san shot you his stupid smile, and you care about making jeong yunho cum. in fact, it’s the only thing on your mind as you bob your head up and down, letting his own hand guide your pace.  

“shh, shh,” he’s hushing your own struggles for breath and carding his fingers through the tresses of your hair, his legs clamping down on either side of you, pinning you in your rightful place. “taking it so good, baby. so fucking good.”

good’s not good enough.

you want to leave him mind-blown, exhausted, unhinged. you want him clenching his jaw, and baring his teeth, and stuttering over any praise he tries to give you. in fact, you need it, need that thrill-driven lust of collapsing the sanity of a man as broad and strong and capable as him.

so you pick up the pace, fight against the steady up-and-down of his grip and try to take just that little bit more of him in your mouth and down your throat, till you’ve no doubt there’s a visible bulge of where he sits down your windpipe. you think back on what he said- i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock- and work towards doing just that, mouth a fountain of over-flowing spit that paints lines down your chin and over his heavy balls. the hand at his base lightly drags the tips of its nails over his burning skin and you physically feel the way his cock jumps in your mouth, head twitching as his hips involuntarily jolt forwards.

eyes as wide as a deer in headlights, you glance up to stare into his own, only to find they’re rolling back in his head, too caught up in the headiness of having your mouth on him to visually focus. it’s erotic, tracing your eyes over the protruding vein in his neck and the unrhythmic heaving of his chest- like every breath he pulls is a rare gift and a miracle- and the straining of his muscled thighs that hold back his urge to buck freely into your mouth, use you as nothing but a hole to get himself off with.

your free hand stakes claim over your own sexual frustration, nimble fingers rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit in an attempt to just ease that heat burning you from the inside out.

“she’s touching herself, jeong,” not even the irritating, grating voice of park seonghwa’s unwanted commentary can take away the kick you’re getting out of working this man into a frenzy. “are you just going to let her, without your permiss-”

“shut up, park,” yunho is wrecked, voice divulging so far from that loud, boyish charm into a dark, broken sort of gruffed out thing, echoing straight out of his chest. but, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t listen to the other man, doesn’t force his eyes open to glance down in a hazed daze to witness your pathetic attempts to work your fingers over yourself.

only, he doesn’t tell you to stop.

he just... watches. and then smiles, squeezes out what can only be described as a broken whine, and tilts his head back once more, relinquishing all control of his body over to you. the scene divulging into a chorus of mumbled words, fuck and please and yes becoming the only word yunho knows, the only three you hear. 

only as he cums does jeong yunho regain that bit of self-control he’s lost, ripping your mouth off him- a stuttered mumble of i wanna paint that pretty face- and erupting in a mess of grunted moans, cock twitching in his palm as rope after rope of white, hot fluid shoots out of it. it’s messy, and disgusting, and sticky, marking the skin on your cheeks, nestling in your hair, dripping over your shut eyelashes.

the last drops land in your parted mouth as his grasp shakes and you regain the right to wrap your lips around his mushroomed tip.

lips stained in pearly white, cheeks and neck matching too. the throb of your neglected cunt, clenching itself around nothing but the mere thought of having jeong yunho stuff you full, break you in two and leave you spent.

the man in question is in a no better state, head thrown back and chest a heaving mess glistening with the shine of his own sweat. his mouth hangs open, near heaving in breaths of air and his hands, adopting a mind of their own, grip harder in your hair and hold you firmly in place, tongue laving over his sensitive tip, pushing him closer and closer to the ledge of overstimulation.

“fuck- uh, fucking look at you,” sweet voice, foul words. two fingers drag over your cheek, coating themselves in the sticky substance he’s painted you in. “drooling all over me.”

he’s right, you are drooling. down your chin, an uncomfortable damp coat covers your overheating skin as you continue to stretch your lips around his length, ready to rip another thigh-shuddering orgasm out of the man.

yunho grants you no such pleasure.

instead, a grip tugs back on your hair and, before you can feebly attempt to catch your fleeing breath, he’s pulling you up into his lap, straddling you across the well-defined muscles of his thigh. those big, capable hands he pushes himself through pools, and rivers, and all other bodies of water manipulate your limbs however he likes, a rag-doll free for him to toy with for as long as he sees fit.

“yun-” you don’t even manage to say his name properly, not when he grinds you down into his lap, smothering his tanned skin in your juices. the friction runs straight for your pulsing clit and you’re rendered to sinking into his welcoming arms, head collapsing into the crook of his neck, parted lips panting up a storm against his sweated skin.

“that nice for you, angel?” the soft words, the rough hands, the perfect roll of your hips. you feel like you could sob, break apart completely. yunho tracing a hand up the curve of your spine and soothing his long fingers over a knot in you back doesn’t help your case. “bet it is. little bit of release to all that tension you’ve been feeling, yeah?”

you think you nod.

it’s hard to tell.

sparks fly within your loins, heating you from the inside out. yunho, at some point, has wound his fist into the tresses of your hair, nails scrapping along your scalp. it’s pleasurable, all over, soothing you into a state of utter relaxation, a being with no purpose other than to take whatever this mass of warmth and muscles and width offers you.

his hand makes a fist and gently tugs, forcing a whine out of you as you’re faced with the bright lights once more. traces of his own cum stain the very place your face had lay. it’s erotic to see, drying up your tongue with a need to lick it clean.

“no, no, focus, right here,” a single finger taps at your cheek, followed by the tilting of your chin that forces you to stare back at the hungry eyes of jeong yunho. “eyes on me. want a front row seat to watching your eyes roll back.”

god, he’s filthy, and delicate, and that just makes him all that more filthy.

swiping his digits through the remnants of his sticky cum, he makes sure you’re staring right back at him as those same fingers snake their way down between your grinding bodies and burrow themselves deep in your soaked heat. shallow pumps of his hand fuck his cum-coated fingers deeper, long and lithe enough he barely needs to move to have you feeling him all over, everywhere.

by the time he curls them, pressing against that spongy wall, you’re just about ready to cry.

“think she’s gonna cum,” oh god, no, why must he remind you of your audience? why does it no longer frighten you to have eyes watching you be defiled but, rather, have you clenching around him tighter, chasing that fever-like ecstasy the man means to deliver? “she’s gripping my fingers so tight- shit, almost makes me wanna bust my load just thinking how warm her pussy would feel round my cock.”

“don’t let her cum,” you vow, some day, to wring the neck of park seonghwa. “just cause she’s gone all cockdrunk doesn’t mean she’s earnt-”

“shut up, hwa,” the boy’s thumb pokes up and you can’t help the way you grind down into it, smothering your clit in whatever pressure you can get. “pretty baby’s more than earned it. stop being bitter that i’m the one who’s gonna give her it.”

give you it, he does.

three fingers deep, the cocktail of your wetness mixing with his cum-cated digits aiding the ebb and flow of his rhythm, jeong yunho has your toes curling, eyes rolling, thighs shaking. you blackout, for only a moment, lost in the wilderness of pleasure.

the aftershocks are barely kicking in when you’re suddenly ripped away from yunho’s hold. the sounds of your beating heart and heaving chest muffle the disgruntled exchange of words between the swim-team, inhibiting your ability to stay clued-in on the events that surround you. all you know is that when your body meets the bench once more, on all wobbly fours, jeong yunho no longer sits tall and proud.

a sharp sting hits your rear- a smack, that echoes in the empty space of the swimming hall. the only appropriate response is the shriek you let out, twisted in your own conflicting emotions of pain, and pleasure, and painful pleasure. a second smack meets the other cheek. this time, there’s no doubt a wanton whine escapes you.

“since the rest of them can’t take orders,” you’d already known it was seonghwa whose hands were suddenly all over you, pinning you in a position of submission. the sound of his grandiose voice sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, top to tail. “i’ll have to do it myself.”

with no word of warning, he smooths his hands down the globes of your ass, teases the crease of skin where your inner thigh meets your dripping heat, and fucks two whole fingers into your sensitive core. knuckles deep, they sit still upon initial intrusion, basking in the warmth of you and coating themselves in the essence from an orgasm you’ve yet to even fully recover from and the cum yunho’d scooped off your own face.

then, at last, when your nails dig marks into the wood below, he curls them a come-hither motion.

with shame painted on your skin, you toss your head back and release an inhumane cry, eyes hazily gazing up at the horrendous white lights above. “oh god!”

“not quite. i do appreciate the flattery though,” there’s no need to glance over your shoulder to know that pompous, trust-fund baby is wearing the most earth-shattering smirk, some stupid strand of his perfectly groomed hair dangling over one of his eyes, like some 90s heartthrob boy-band member. you do it anyway.

park seonghwa is an unfairly attractive man, sporting a beauty so ethereal it almost makes you angry.

that anger seems to dampen the wetter he gets you.

his touch is slow, but by no means is it gentle. calculated and malevolent, he plays with your insides like they’re nothing but the strings to your puppet. a curl of his fingers and one of your hands shoots forward. the torturously slow pace that he pumps his digits in and out, and your jaw falls slack. his thumb bumps and grinds against your throbbing clit, and your elbows give out, sending you crashing face-first down onto the bench.

his free hand presses down on your lower back, bending you deeper, hiking your ass up higher in the air. and, at first, you think you’re imagining it, that trickle of warmth against your other entrance, believing it nothing but a trick of your melting brain.

you’re who-knows how many hours deep in a whirlwind of pleasure and penetrative stares, people have been driven to the brink of insanity over far less in the past.

but then seonghwa’s fingers leave your cunt, warm and wet trails following their journey over your skin. there’s no imaginative mind great enough in this universe to conjure up that initial shock to feeling how he prods and pokes at your puckered hole, lubricating it with the dirty mixture of both you and yunho’s cum and his very own spit.

the tip of his pointer finger ventures onward first, breaking through the surface of your tight muscles in a shallow intrusion.

the feeling has you frozen, frightened, intrigued. eyes widening, moans dying, pussy pulsating in an empty need.

“don’t go getting shy on us now, spitfire,” the collective language he uses brings back the weight of all the boys’ eyes on you. hesitantly, you angle your face off the bench, and regret it the instant you meet the brown comfort of his eyes. “fun’s just starting. ain’t that right, san?”

a tense energy takes over the large room, with san’s shoulders tensing, and yunho’s feet fidgeting, and wooyoung’s cheeks blushing. seonghwa seems impervious to the shift, whether voluntarily or not, and instead invites himself to further exploring the limits of your body.

he’s kind enough to spare a bit of care into the way his finger sinks deeper into your unexplored hole. another dribble of his hot saliva lands messily onto you, aiding the slip and slide of his hand. two, or three, or four strokes of his finger and you’re submitting to the intrusion, hips rutting higher and presenting yourself more to the man.

“come here,” the command calls over your body and, at first, you think its aimed at you. so you try scooting further back, only to be halted by seonghwa speaking once again. “yeah you, choi. come get under her.”

for the first time since this all began, you’re on the precipice of saying no.

they’d listen, all of them. wouldn’t push you, pressure you or force you to keep going, not if you truly voiced your negation. even park seonghwa, as big an arsehole as he may be, would have no qualms ending his fun and agreeing to never speak of this again.

and it’s not that you don’t want choi san under you. far from it, as you’ve already made pretty clear earlier, thighs his personal ear-warmers while his tongue delved deep for your honey-suckle glory. you’re hardly uncomfortable at the thought of him under you, chest rising repeatedly in frantic breaths and legs bent at the knee to give him just the right leverage to fuck up into your messy cunt-

it’s not till he’s three feet away from you, hands fidgeting by his side, eyes looking anywhere but you and your compromising position, and the world’s most obnoxiously boner-strained tent in his swimming gear that realisation washes over you. you’re hesitating because of him, because of his possible discomfort.

what if he wants to say no? what if he doesn’t want to get under you? what if his eyes will never look into your own again, too shocked and disgusted by all the things you’ve let be done to you? by his own team-mates/rivals, too?

hell, you’ve shocked yourself even, never in a million years had you pictured a day you’d be at the mercy of some rich prick, overdressed for every occasion and looking like a vogue-cover-model reject. but when he’s edging another finger into the already-tight squeeze of your ass, and pushing your buttons just enough to nudge you towards an edge that never seems to arrive, how could you ever dream of being anywhere else?

a hand touches your cheek.

soft. tender. it takes the extra time to soothe the pads of its fingers against your burning cheek.

“you feeling okay?” san’s quiet tone, meant only for you, is enough to move you to near-tears. you crave his hug. the position you find yourself in only allows you to reach out and grasp at where his knee bends as he crouches down to your level. it’s all the same, san knows. san understands. his own hand lands on top of yours, messily threading digits.

“she’s literally stuffed with another man’s cum and you’re worried about her? well aren’t you just the sweetest.” a cheap remark from seonghwa.

san purposefully ignores it, and everything about the man, instead choosing to keep his focus on what matters.

you.

“think you could make some room for me down there?” your nose wrinkles at his choice of words.

his giggle echoes.

“no, no, not... like that,” he guides you as he talks, grip moving to your shoulders and coaxing you up into a seating position. somewhere along the way, seonghwa’s hands leave you. he doesn’t stray too far, however, and your back soon collides against his chest. “here, pretty. want you to make space for me down here.”

within seconds, choi san’s back in his rightful place: splayed out beneath you, body fit snug between your parted legs and hair an unruly, sweated mess against his forehead.

no clothing sits between you both, blessing you with the mouthwatering drag of his cock through your folds. hard, and red, and leaking at the tip, a slight curve to the right, dribbling precum against his well-toned stomach. you’re biting your lip before you fully register your own thoughts, body a mind of its own as you grind down onto him.

control is limited and fleeting, that of which seonghwa reminds you without uttering so much as a word. instead, he clamps a harsh grip down on either side of your hips, rucks you up to where he needs you and guides you down onto san’s cock.

it’s thick, imposing and something that seonghwa blesses you no time to ease into things. instead, you’re slammed down, san buried to the hilt inside of you.

“hey there,” delicate fingers skim up the tense muscles in your thigh and find pleasure in delivering a teasing tickle to your sides. “come here often?”

the cheeky grin, the double entendre, the way san looks so goddamn proud of himself for saying it. you can’t help it, you wind up giggling uncontrollably.

wrong choice. bad idea. danger zone.

san contorts in pain, and lust, and something else you’ve never seen behind his eyes before, hissing through his teeth like some feral cat. his eyes match that of a feline too. “you trying to squeeze my dick off or something?”

you compose yourself upon the reminder of that san can feel you tensing around him, pull in a deep breath and find your voice again, at last. “or... something.”

maybe you’re a little out of breath. maybe you’re a little hoarse. it doesn’t seem to matter to the boy below, his only response being to cant his hips up and lick at the fire burning in your insides.

“you two are disgusting,” once again, park seonghwa wins gold in the nobody-asked-for-you-bum-ass-opinion olympics. let’s see if he’ll continue his winning streak and go for gold in the hypocrite-athon too!

the hands on your sides begin you guide you, with seonghwa squeezing his perfectly manicured nails into your plush skin and bouncing you down onto san. up, down, up and down, repeated strokes like the ones their hands deliver each time they breach the surface.

it’s easy, this pleasure. it’s a gift, hand-delivered by two god-like men that sandwich you between them- one a mass that fills you, the other a weight that controls you. liberating in every sense, you can’t help the way your head rolls back to find purchase on one of seonghwa’s shoulders, completely melting into the ways he winds you over san.

“shit, yes, you feel,” san’s no better than you, mouth agape and hands unsteady as they trace every inch of skin they can reach: the dimples of your back, the swell of your breasts, the hood of your clit. his hips are the only steady thing about him, not a falter in the way they grind up to kiss your dripping pussy with his cock. “so good. so warm, tight. love it.”

a hand curls round your front, travels up between your breast and over your sternum. it settled for a grip a round your throat, no pressure applied, it simply exists against your windpipe, a silent threat.

“look what you do to him, hmm,” a squeeze around your neck. seonghwa’s warm breath fans against your ear, taunting you. “look what you’re doing to them.”

through your glossed-over gaze, you trail your way past the sight of san and all his captivating beauty, settling instead on the equally erotic, not-at-all surprising image that stands just past where his head rests at the edge of the wooden bench.

a sweaty wooyoung, bent at the waist and whining up a storm, while a far more composed yunho pounds his hips into the boy’s arse.

your walls clench and san whimpers, a string of curses and pleads leaving him.

“think you’re finally ready for me?” the devil on your shoulder- at your back, more truly,- smirks into your skin, careless enough to not even feign it being anything but a rhetoric question. ready or not, park seonghwa is going to finally get his own fill of the thrill, his own satisfaction, beyond mere observation and controlling.

the spill of your own wetness slips down your thighs as san continues to fuck himself deep. it doesn’t travel far as seonghwa coats himself in you, wetting his fingers before they slip back inside your ass. a few generous, tempting pumps into your ring of muscles, fingers spreading a little further apart each time, till he decides that’s enough, he’s ready, you’re ready.

the unbuckling of a belt.

an unzipping of trousers.

trousers bunched down muscled thighs.

the first cut may be the deepest, but you highly doubt it’s as deep as seonghwa feels feeding his cock into your arse, stretching you apart to make way for him. a part of you feels like it can’t breathe, impaled on both these men who sit so deep inside you, you fear you’ll feel the ghost of their touch for weeks to come.

but what does it matter, really, when seonghwa pulls you back against him and whispers filth against your ear? 

this is all you’re good for. cock-drunk whore. gonna let us cum inside?

and san’s coaxing you down to trail his mouth over your chest, the tongue flicking over your nipple a terrible juxtapose to his crooning words?

taking it so well, baby. so tight, and perfect, and god. ‘s that what baby needs, huh, for me to touch her little clit?

the two men find a rhythm, a synchronised routine to how they pull and push you around. their thrusts ebb and flow, no moment existing where you sit empty. they treat your body like they treat the pool, swimming through your waves of pleasure and effortlessly advancing to the finishing line, the winning stroke. then, san’s hand meets your cheek and your thoughts are dragged underwater, muffling the sounds of everyone else- the shlickt sound that echoes with each inch of cock fucked into you, the high-pitched whimpers of a fucked out wooyoung, the slapping of skin against skin- as he pulls you in for a kiss.

it’s a hungry one, all teeth and tongue and swollen lips. you pull away more breathless than before and fighting back a big dopey grin, toes curling as the swell of one of their cocks hits a nice spot inside you, body too on fire to know just exactly where the new wave of heat is coming from.

“h-how d’you do it, hm?” it’s almost a whisper, something meant only for your ears, yet you hear him loud and clear, voice stuttering off in a mess of whines and moans. “still got that pretty-girl smile, even while getting fucked silly.”

it almost makes you shy, till you remember what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with. you settle for a quick, short answer. mostly because you fear you’re losing the ability to think in full-sentences, much less speak one out loud. “can multitask.”

like your own words are the key to pandora’s box, your eyes widen, and your mouth dries, and your heart reels as a new desire burrows itself somewhere between the parts of you owned by san and the parts owned by seonghwa. the desire makes room for more, for someone more, and, without much chance for second-thoughts or hesitation, you find what little stability you can manage with one hand pressing down onto san’s toned chest and reach forward with your free hand.

fingers, light as a feather, curl around wooyoung’s solid shaft. the man’s hips stutter at the unexpected contact, eyes flying open to glance down in time to watch you reach out your tongue, licking up the droplets of precum that threaten to spill from his mushroomed tip.

“please, god, please!” he’s beyond the point of sense, poor baby, struggling to keep up with yunho’s hips’ repeated slamming into his tight ass. so, you can’t really blame him or shame him for the way he hastily rips his hand through your hair, tugging your mouth as far down his cock as the angle allows.

a few hairs rip from your skull in his grip. you reward him with a pleasant hum, moans muffled with the mouth-full he’s providing you. 

“shit- look at that,” seonghwa pipes up from behind you, the motion of his hips never faulting or failing as he continues to take part in the filthiest three-way tango known to man, hands bouncing you down to meet each raise of san’s hips, plundering the other man’s cock deep, deep, deep, till he’s kissing your cervix and you’re seeing stars before your eyes. “should cup youngie’s- fucking christ- his balls, san, cup ‘em.”

you’re vaguely aware of his compliance, hand lifting off whatever part of you it was touching- your nipple, your hip, your jaw, it’s hard to tell when you feel like san’s everywhere, all over you, part of you- to graze the set of well-groomed spheres that threaten to slap your chin each time wooyoung thrusts forward.

barely two seconds, hardly any pressure against them, and the youngest of the four is nearly in tears, wailing and begging over broken whines that it’s too much, can’t take it, don’t stop.

there’s a ringing in your ear. because everything is becoming too much: wooyoung in your mouth, san rutting up into you and seonghwa’s hands clawing and pulling your body back into each of his overpowered thrusts. the boy in front of you is the first to fall apart, twitching in your mouth and, without a warning, choking you on the cum he shoots down your throat. a hand pulls you back, just enough to paint your face in the final drops released from wooyoung.

one of the other men is next, a string of curses and grunts filling the air. there’s a new stickiness between your legs, gooey white staining your skin. it’s all building up, and up, and up, until you topple over and are sent reeling into wave after wave of blinding pressure, toes cramping up and muscles spasming as you shoot off into another astral field, creaming around san and chocking seonghwa’s cock.

you don’t register the release of your hips nor the crash-down of your body. one moment, you’re pressed back against seonghwa, mouth dropped open in a silent scream for merciless pleasure, and the next you’re cradled in san’s warm embrace, a crooning tone to the way he hushes and calms you, unheard i got yous, and did so good for us, babys, and just let me hold yous falling on deaf ears.

for a moment in your own history, time ceases to exist.

there’s no ticking of the large clock on the wall, reminding you of how long ago your shift had ended. there’s no thoughts of your plant friend drying out in the staleness of your room, desperately awaiting you to revive it with some h2o. there’s no consequences awaiting your actions, no shame to be feared and leaving you unable to look any of the four swimmers in the eye ever again.

instead of being crashed against choi san’s body, a mixture of his, yours, and several other people’s bodily fluids serving as the adhesive that keeps you stuck together in your mess, you’re floating in space, not quite alive but not quite dead, just there. 

nerves tingling, body aching, mind switched off.

four, or five, or ten, maybe even fifteen minutes pass by the time you regain focus on your surroundings.

your name, whispered. it’s his voice that pulls you back, sweet and soft and oh so like the san you’re used to, the one that sends teasing winks your way when your eyes happen to meet his in class, and the one who has the prettiest notes you’ve ever seen, a colour-scheme for his every highlight and the cutest of doodles to go along with the topic on the paper.

the one who’s hand is currently brushing through your hair, fingers careful as they catch on the tangles near the split ends.

“hmm,” you swear you want to say his name, say more than that, but there’s an ache in your jaw that hinders you from even attempting, your voice-box likely having taken a beaten in the throws of your pleasured moans.

“you okay there?” he giggles over the end of the sentence, and you feel your slowing heartbeat stutter at the sound.

he feels you nod into the crook of his neck and lets his free hand find perch against your hip, moments before giving it a light squeeze. 

he’s warm, and pleasant, and soft.

and moving you both into an up-right position, hands splaying flat against your back and keeping you secure against him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist. you drift off again, between time and space, and come to at the first drop of water that lands on your back.

one drop, two drops, and then a downpour of heat crashing onto both of you.

you can tell from the colour of the pinkish tiles along the communal shower floor that you’re in the women’s changing room, and mentally note to thank him, even if he’s not aware, for bringing you somewhere you won’t have to shamefully stumble out of in the nude, your change of clothes safely tucked away within one of the lockers.

“i’m gonna put you down now, okay?” he speaks so gently that it overwhelms you, answering him only with an affirmative nod of your head.

neither of you speak while he lathers shampoo into your hair, nor when he’s dragging his soap covered hands over the cum that stains your skin, wiping it away and leaving nothing but suds where the liquid once was. he doesn’t speak while covering your eyes with his hands, blocking the sting of the shampoo. you don’t speak when you inch closer, head falling forward to rest against his chest.

when he does eventually speak again, both of your fingertips are wrinkled and bodies are clean, the water of the shower serving as nothing but a way to keep warm.

“you’re, uh, not” the echo of his voice in the empty lockers feels so much more intimate than how his cries sounded by the pool. “doing anything on wednesday, right?”

too lazy to move, you angle your face to stare up at him from his chest and take a moment to just stare, look at the way his hair is sticking to his forehead, at the way his eyes are back to being wide, at the way the marks you’d littered along his neck are becoming more prominent.

“how’d you know?” your question confirms his own, and a tenseness you’d not noticed melts off of his shoulders.

“wednesday is race day. you never work race days.”

it’s such an odd detail to have noticed, and it’s making you question everything you thought you knew about your relationship with san. do acquaintances remember each other’s schedules? do acquaintances bring each other soothing teas when they notice the other developing flu symptoms? do acquaintances waste time pulling faces at each other in lectures they should probably be paying attention to.

“i’m not taking part in the race this time, by choice. my grades are good enough, don’t need to worry about winning some championship to keep my education.” san is speaking unpromptly at this point, rambling in a way you’ve only seen him do when he’s nervous, or excited, or both. “it’s okay if you don’t want to, or you have better things to do or places to be! but, i was just thinking, maybe you’d wanna spend some time with me? there’s this medieval market down on main-street, it’s meant to be really cool, and i just think it would be even cooler to go with you? but, again, you don’t have to. forget it, actually, i’m being stupid and assuming you’re not doing something with your friends or your-”

the kiss you interrupt him with is far more innocent than the one you shared earlier, no hands rushing to touch and tongues desperate to taste, just two sets of lips moving as one.

you pull back and he chases after you, lips landing another peck before you’re grasping his cheek in your hold and forcing him back.

“i think you could have asked me to come help clean your apartment for you and i’d still say yes, just to spend my day with you,” you say, and he smiles as if on instinct, unable to stop it even if he tried.

“really?”

“really.”

“good, cause i already bought us two tickets and i really didn’t wanna have to go alone.” there’s drops of water dancing on his eyelashes, and laziness in his every movement, and you’re both still very much naked, but none of that seems to matter when he gives you another peck, like he’s awakened an addiction and your lips are now his favourite vice. “but, now that you mention it, my apartment could do with some cleaning. and i bet you’d look amazing in a maid outfit.”

a slap echoes in the showers.

“hey! don’t worry, i’ll be wearing a matching one!”

[tarotofhope]

PAC: 「What's your working style?」

(Please Read My Pinned post *IMPORTANT NOTE* before selecting a Pile)

💼 All dividers on this blog are provided by @uzmacchiato 💼

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Pick an Image by meditating and selecting the image you feel called to. You can be attracted towards more than 1 image. If you are not able to select maybe this reading isn't for you.

Pile 1

Cards: The Devil, The Star, Death, The Empress Reversed, Wheel of Fortune and The Magician.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 1. You are married to your work and you're a hard worker. You're very goal oriented and ambitious. Whatever you're working towards is not only work for you but much greater than that. Your work is your passion, your religion, your God. You even have good leadership qualities. You know how to give and earn respect. Even when you guys retire, you would still do some or the other thing as work. You just can't sit idle. You value money and you use your money wisely. I can also see one more thing here, you guys have this drive for becoming something in this world, doing something effective, having an impact, leaving a legacy. You guys are like a magnet for power and money just because you have a strong drive for work and you strive hard to achieve your goals. For a few of you, this could be the case that you had to take responsibilities at an early age because one of your parent passed away or you were stripped off of your financial support by your parents/guardian. You have good businessmanship and a lot of creative abilities. You want to become independent in your life and stand on your own two feet.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 1.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 2

Cards: Queen of Swords, The Hermit, The Tower, The Fool, Ace of Pentacles and 9 of Pentacles.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 2. You do your own thing and you don't like to follow any set rules or regulations. You might appear cold and tough and you somehow also know how to get other people to work for you if you want to. You have a lot of experience in life and you could be a street smart too. There could be a phase in your life(this could be your past, present or future because many people are reading this) where you had a huge financial loss and then you had to start from scratch and earn for your living and then become financially stable and satisfied. Yes, financial stability and satisfaction with material possessions is there but it will come after a lot of struggle. Whatever I said in the starting 2-3 sentences about your nature of work could be something which came after your struggle. You have learnt a lot from your struggles and that has shaped you the way you are. You are someone who would take the leap of faith, manifest a tower moment(sudden and drastic ups and downs) so that change can enter your life. You are not afraid of changes, you invite them..😉

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 2.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 3

Cards: The Hierophant, Temperance, 5 of Swords, 7 of Wands, King of Cups and Knight of Wands.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 3. You have a great desire to follow your passion or maybe you wish you had more talents and choices in your life because you look stuck in a traditional work environment. You think you'd have your own working style if you had the opportunity to work on your own but somehow you're trapped in a normal office type job or traditional work style where there is less to no scope for creativity and personal growth and you have to follow certain rules and fulfil certain criterias. Maybe you feel stuck in a boring 9 to 5 job. This is also because of necessity, you need to pay bills and this and that, so what else you could have done? But there is this strong desire to do your dream job which is not like your normal office job. Either you are doing something as a side hustle but you earn very little from it and you want to make big in it but you also have a main job which gives you good enough money to pay your bills but you're not happy with it. There's this constant struggle to strike a balance. You don't get much time with your family due to this job and also very less holidays/vacations. There's a lot of judgement and competition at your workplace, ranks, scores and a hierarchical management which you're tired of. You don't want any of this. You want to reach at a level where you're emotionally satisfied in your work, where there is less stress and pressure.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 3.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 4

Cards: The High Priestess, The Sun, Page of Swords, The Magician, Empress and Knight of Cups.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 4. Looks like you're doing what your heart desires and something which pile 3 dreams of. You're very fortunate and blessed, pile 4. Your job has that proper balance of work and relaxation, work and creativity. I'm not saying that your job is easy or you don't work hard or work enough, it's just that your work is so full of creativity and enjoyment that you'd happily put more hard work in it. You'd happily and willingly struggle in it. You might feel very independent and free because of your work. You might also be very protective of your job, I mean to say that people get jealous of your job easily, whether or not you earn much from it, whether or not you're successful in it, I can see that people just couldn't digest your enjoyment and excitement which is associated with your work because they don't get to do the same. So, you could be wearing some evil eye protection talisman or bracelet/ring. The best part of your job is that you don't have to follow strict rules and regulations, you're mostly free to do your own thing. You could be into creative fields of work and you're doing this because people are known by the kind of job they're into and you want to attract like-minded people or you want to help other people who are less fortunate in regards to creative work.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 4.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 5

Cards: 9 of Swords, 9 of Pentacles, King of Wands, King of Pentacles, King of Cups and 6 of Pentacles.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 5. You could be into service related jobs mostly which involves doing a lot of charity and helping the needy. You don't want to see people struggling like you did in your past. Your job gets a lot of criticism by people because maybe you get to earn very little from it or because people don't understand your job, but you're happy and people don't see this. For some of you, this work could make you successful in future but it's a very slow and steady process so again people don't see any value in your work. You might be doing something unconventional and different, so you might not be supported at home too, so you're very protective of this job. Whatever you're doing is either within a community or a one man show, nothing in between. You serve a variety of people/customers involving foreigners too. You're very satisfied and content with this job and nobody can change your mind with their worldly philosophies. There is 9 of pentacles after the 9 of swords which can indicate that you got this job after a lot of struggle and bad experiences, this could be something very unattainable to you earlier, but you fought for it, worked hard for it and now you're not going to leave it. Maybe you're constantly trying to prove your worth and the value of your work, pile 5. You don't have to. The right people will admire you for your work and will also understand and respect your work choice.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 5.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Thank you so much for being here. I post PAC readings every Tuesday and Friday. Do love and support by reblogging, liking or following.

——————————— ♡ ♡ ♡ ———————————

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

No Amount of Wishes

|| Sheriff Grayson x fem!enforcer!reader

|| Warnings; injured reader (concussion/broken arm/coma), Grayson worried for reader and feeling guilt, hospital setting, injured on the job

|| Summary; Grayson stays to keep an eye on reader, only to realize she's got to go to work. Then... reader wakes up.

Requests closed!

Started; December 31th

Finished; December 31st

HurtCember2024; Day 25, Accident

~~~

She didn't mean for this to happen.

For you to get hurt on the field. Everyone kept reminding her; "Grayson, it was just an accident. None of this was your fault." But she knew. She knew. It was her decision to send you out there. It all comes down to her in the end. Grayson was the Sheriff. She was supposed to be better than this- you were never supposed to get hurt. We really can't stop everything, can we? No matter how hard we try... beg the Gods. Nothing ever comes of it.

Grayson sighed, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. You'd been hospitalized for a couple of days now, stuck in what felt like a never ending coma. Grayson couldn't bare the sight of you like this, but she hated the thought of leaving your side even more. Of course, she wasn't able to stay as long as she wanted to. The people still needed her. The city wouldn't rest just because you were bed bound. No amount of wishes could change that.

Looking to the clock on the wall, Grayson could see that her time with you was just about up for the day. This was the hardest part for her. Leaving you. She knew the hospital staff was good. That you were in good hands; even still. Grayson wanted to be the one to take care of you. She always had, it didn't matter how many times you told her you could handle things yourself. That you had it under control. Something, somewhere would go wrong.

"Grayson?" She had started to stand, removing herself from the seat. Her limbs ached, a sign of how long she had been sitting. It took her a moment to register your voice. You calling to her. At first, Grayson was sure she had imagined it. Her mind playing tricks created by her desire. Her desire for you. She still turned to look at you, just for the off chance that...

You were awake?

"Gods," Grayson breathed. Feeling a sense of relief run through her entire body. She rushed to your side, hand on yours while the other cupped your cheek. Her eyes never leaving yours, memorizing the colour and every detail. Assuring herself that you were there.

"I missed you," you murmured. You knew by the look she was giving you that you'd been out for a while. The fight you'd gotten caught in on patrol really did a number on you. The first was the broken arm. Having received quite the blow to your dominate side. Then a blow to your head that finished the job. You could feel a subtle pound that seemed to only get worse the longer your eyes were open.

"I'll always miss you more," the Sheriff murmured. Earning herself a smile from you. The hand that cupped your cheek trailed your jawline. Fingers ghosting your skin, sending shivers down your neck," the doctor explained that you had a concussion and broken arm. The blow to the side of your head was heafty, you'll be suspended for the next couple weeks until you've fully recovered."

Your eyes widened. Suspended? How were you supposed to spend your time? You'd get bored waiting around doing nothing. With a concussion and broken arm you'd be even more limited. Great, "yippee..."

Grayson laughed at your enthusiasm, or lack of," oh don't you start pouting with me. I may just have to kiss it away, you know."

"Oh really?" You smirked, glad to see that Grayson was in a better mood. You knew she had to have been beating herself up over this, whether the flirting was a way to hide it or not you weren't sure... but it made your heart flutter all the same," I'd take you up on that. First, though... you okay?"

"To be truthful, no. Seeing you like this..." She trailed off and shook her head, leaving you to fill the blanks. You had a good idea what she was saying. It hurt her, probably just as much as you'd actually been hurt.

"Gray... none of this was your fault, you know that. Don't you? My reaction time was off, I was slower, weaker. My opponent just had a better hand against me. But none of it comes down to you. That was my usual patrol line, it's not like anything changed from the normal scheduling. Just an unlucky day," you tried to comfort her. She did seem to ease, but not fully.

"I... suppose you make your points." She sighed, looking to the clock on the wall again. She was late for her shift by now, but.. if she's already late anyway, what's the harm in spending a few extra minutes with you?

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Yeah, I'd like a date night fic with Xinyan, Ayaka and Furina. Hold the skibidi and let it rizz until it mews please and thank you

(Genshin Impact) Date Night with Xinyan, Ayaka, and Furina

I still don't even understand any of those words.

Xinyan decided to eat at Wanmin Restaurant with S/O for their date.

She doesn't really dress all that different, but she does at least put the effort to make sure her hair is neater, as well as grabbing some perfume!

Though that one was a bit of a moot point, considering they'd both smell like food by the end of the night, but that was beside the point.

Sitting across from them on the table, Xinyan seems more energetic than usual as she bounces in her seat, chatting away with S/O about whatever came to mind.

(S/O) "Hah, you seem really excited tonight, Xinyan."

(Xinyan) "How could I not? We finally get to eat together after like, two weeks! Course I'd get all giddy with ya! Heck, I even did something special for tonight! Did ya notice?"

(S/O) "Your...makeup?"

(Xinyan) "...Hm. Guess I didn't adjust my hair enough. Explains why I still scare the daylights outta people."

S/O reached over the table to grab Xinyan's hand, suddenly turning her attention to her lover.

(S/O) "You're perfect the way you are to me."

Xinyan's mouth drops a little at the compliment before chuckling and squeezing S/O's hand back.

(Xinyan) "Jeez, when did ya become such a smoothtalker, S/O?"

The rest of the night passes far too quickly for XInyan's liking, though that compliment in particular stuck with her for many weeks after, never failing to make her into a blushing mess everytime she thought of it.

Ayaka's desire for date was quite simple: a walk through the streets of Inazuma with her S/O.

But due to her status as a Kamisato, the date would no doubt end up needlessly complicated and busy.

Especially depending on the status of S/O's birthplace and occupation.

Instead, the date ends up becoming far more relaxing, a walk through nature together.

With no one to see them, Ayaka doesn't have to worry about trying to keep prim and proper and simply be a normal girl.

Her thoughts are promptly interrupted when S/O gives her a light peck on the cheek, stunning Ayaka as she turns bright red.

(S/O) "Thinking again, Ayaka?"

Quickly being brought to the present, Ayaka gives them a smile as they continue walking under the moonlight on the trail near the Kamisato Estate.

(Ayaka) "My apologies, I was not ignoring you, was I?"

(S/O) "Nope, you just looked really cute."

Ayaka giggled at their teasing and shifted her arm to hold them closer, her smile growing bigger by the second.

(Ayaka) "T-Thank you, S/O."

Furina's idea for a date night was to:...Honestly, she didn't really know what sounded good.

They could always go out and watch a play together, go to some fancy restaurant, or something along those lines.

But S/O made a suggestion that honestly sounded much more appealing.

(S/O) "We could just have some dessert at home and cuddle!"

And now, Furina got to enjoy some rather delicious cake, with S/O feeding her a bite every now and then as she savored the flavor.

All the while, she sat on the couch enjoying the peace and quiet she had worked hard to earn for herself.

Furina sighed in content as she snuggled closer to S/O, a small but tired smile growing.

(S/O) "Furina? I think you got something on your face."

Furina's eyes widened at that and a hand moved to wipe a smudge of icing off-

Before S/O's hand gently grabbed her chin and faced it toward them, kissing the corner of her lip and then brushing their thumb at the spot.

Leaving her completely stunned for a moment.

(Furina) "I-...T-Thank you for getting that." ahem!

Though she was completely flustered now, she'd be lying if she said that didn't make her heart skip a beat.

...Or several.

[astroeleanor]

༉‧˚🥀🖤❀༉‧˚Black Moon Lilith: Your Feminine Rage (How To Access Your Untapped Potential)༉‧˚🥀🖤❀༉‧˚

Black Moon Lilith symbolizes your Dark Feminine power. She represents where you were silenced, but need to reclaim your power. You don’t need to heal Black Moon Lilith, you need to UNLEASH her.

Black Moon Lilith is NOT a planet, it’s a mathematical point in your birth chart that represents where you were shamed, or where you were robbed of your power. It represents where your potential got redirected into people pleasing. Let’s talk about how to reclaim this power!

CALCULATE YOUR BLACK MOON LILITH SIGN HERE!

♈︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN ARIES ♈︎

Don’t wait for permission to act on your instincts. Stop second-guessing your desires just because they’re “a lot.” Start before you’re ready.

🥀SECRET TIP: Channel your anger into sports, intercourse, dance, or anything else that allows you to move your body. Also, you don’t have to fight everything. Sometimes the best strategy is walking away.

Your energy threatens people who rely on power imbalances. That’s why they try to slow you down. If you want to access your potential, you need to get comfortable with being the villain in someone else’s story.

♉︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN TAURUS ♉︎

Reclaim your right to say no without explaining. Turn your focus inward, toward what feels good, real, grounded. Build your life around what nourishes you, not what others expect from you.

🥀SECRET TIP: If you’re stuck, give yourself more, not less. Luxury, silence, space, food, pleasure. Watch your clarity return.

There’s a quiet rage in your refusal to move until it’s on your terms. To access your Lilith here, treat your body like a decision-maker. If your stomach knots, the answer is no.

♊︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN GEMINI ♊︎

Your voice is your sword. Speak, write, teach, ask questions that make people uncomfortable. Let go of needing to be agreeable.

🥀SECRET TIP: Your rage gets stuck in your throat. Try talking out loud to yourself, singing in the car, recording voice notes, even if no one hears them. That’s the release you need.

People will try to twist your words, label you as flaky or two-faced. Let them. Your adaptability is a threat to their rigidity. Access your power through contradiction. You’re meant to be many things at once.

♋︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN CANCER ♋︎

Start prioritizing your emotional safety. Say no to people pleasing and pouring from an empty cup. You’re allowed to be soft AND have teeth.

🥀SECRET TIP: Let people disappoint you. Don’t rush to explain it away or mother them into being better. Just observe, and detach. You don’t need to make everyone else feel safe if they haven’t earned your respect.

You’ve been the emotional crutch, the therapist friend, the secret keeper, the one who gets the 3 a.m. crisis call. But when you need holding, it’s fu**ing crickets. Start tapping into your Lilith by refusing to soothe people who hurt you.

♌︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN LEO ♌︎

Stop apologizing for being the center of attention, you were born to lead. Create, perform, shine. Don’t downplay yourself to make others comfortable. Step into the spotlight without guilt.

🥀SECRET TIP: Make something just for you that no one else has to clap for. Art, drama, selfies, music, projects, dance breaks, without the applause.

Somewhere, someone made you feel like wanting attention was shameful. But, your self-expression can heal people. Your Lilith gets activated when you celebrate yourself.

♍︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN VIRGO ♍︎

Your mind is razor sharp, use it to cut through the noise, not yourself. Let go of perfectionism. Start trusting your ability to spot what works and what doesn’t. Your power is precision, don’t let it turn into self-criticism.

🥀SECRET TIP: Burn the to-do list for a day. Then see what still actually matters to you. The rest was someone else’s noise.

You were praised for being “so helpful”, and that’s how they kept you small. Power comes when you start asking: Do I actually want to be involved in this? Not just “Can I?”

♎︎︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN LIBRA ♎︎︎

Stop twisting yourself into shapes that fit other people’s comfort zones. You don’t owe anyone your sweetness or silence. Make choices based on truth. Let relationships form around the real you, not the 'edited' version.

🥀SECRET TIP: Practice saying “that doesn’t work for me” and not filling the silence afterward. Let it hang.

You’ve learned how to disappear in order to be liked. But shrinking yourself isn’t peace if it costs your truth. Let things be awkward. Let them squirm while you stay still.

♏︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN SCORPIO ♏︎

Use what you’ve survived as fuel, not something to hide or carry in shame. Own your intensity.

🥀SECRET TIP: Your biggest power move is telling the truth instead of keeping the upper hand. Vulnerability is not weakness when it’s a choice. Also, don’t wait until you explode. Let people know where the line is, and say it like you mean it.

You’re magnetic because you hold things back, but that can become a prison if you never let anyone in. You don’t have to test people to know they’ll fail. Let them try, then walk away clean.

♐︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN SAGITTARIUS ♐︎

Stop shrinking your truth to make it easier to digest. Say the hard thing. Leave when it’s time. Your freedom is non-negotiable. You lead by living out loud.

🥀SECRET TIP: Boredom is a red flag. If you feel trapped, don’t wait for permission, plot your exit. Even planning the next adventure can keep your fire alive.

Don’t water down your wisdom to make it “palatable.” Say the thing. Burn the lie.

♑︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN CAPRICORN ♑︎

Build a life that answers to you, not some tired rulebook. Stop proving your worth through constant output. Set your own metrics for success, and then exceed them. Authority isn’t out there. It’s you.

🥀SECRET TIP: Drop the self-control strategically. Let yourself fail at something that doesn’t really matter, and see what falls into place anyway. Also, stop playing the role of “the reliable one” when you’re secretly exhausted.

You became self-reliant out of survival, now you don’t know how to ask for help without feeling weak. External success is great, but tapping into your Lilith means developing INNER AUTHORITY.

♒︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN AQUARIUS ♒︎

Lean into what makes you different. Speak the truth others avoid. You’re not meant to blend in, you’re meant to disrupt, to wake people up.

🥀SECRET TIP: Stop trying to explain your vision to people who are close-minded. Build it anyway. They’ll get it once it’s real (or not, and that’s fine). Most importantly, don’t rebel for the sake of it. Pick a cause you truly believe in. Make it count.

You’re the outlier, and they’ll call you difficult for refusing to play by rules you didn’t agree to. Sometimes you isolate yourself before others get the chance. That’s fear disguised as control.

♓︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN PISCES ♓︎

Put boundaries around your empathy, every feeling isn’t yours to carry. Use your imagination to build something real, instead of escaping. Trust your intuition, but don’t let it be used against you.

🥀SECRET TIP: Intuition is a muscle. Stop doubting it every time someone else sounds more confident.

You’ve been romanticized, underestimated, emotionally siphoned. Start tracking when your energy dips around certain people. That’s your signal to pull back, not push through.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post!Your curiosity & engagement mean the world to me. I hope you not only found it enjoyable but also enriching for your astrological knowledge.Your support & interest inspire me to continue sharing insights & information with you. I appreciate you immensely.

• 🕸️ JOIN MY PATREON for exquisite & in-depth astrology content. You'll also receive a free mini reading upon joining. :)

• 🗡️ BOOK A READING with me to navigate your life with more clarity & awareness.

[merakiui]

the idea of waking up in the middle of being gang banged bye the first years is messing up my head

seeing a pussy drunk suede drilling and muttering about how good you feel and how he can’t stop moving his hips feeling a few loads in you even after someone (ace) talked about how good his pull out game is

and jack cooing u back to sleep while ur trying to push em away u had a long day u should get plenty of rest just let them take care of you~

aaaa they're all terrible. Deuce is so pussy-drunk and can't stop even though he keeps telling you he will, Ace and Epel are competing to see who can cum the most inside of you before they're tapped out, and Sebek's trying so hard not to succumb to such carnal desires. There's no way he'd ever fall for a human's charms so easily! His restraint is abysmal because his grip on your hips is so strong and he is shaking,,, omg he's never known a sensation as sweet as this, and you look so cute squirming beneath him while someone else rests your head in his lap, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

You're so fucked out and exhausted, and you keep softly begging them to stop. But it's hard to protest when another cock is being stuffed down your throat and two more are sliding into either of your empty hands. <3 they're all so sloppy with their movements and touches, and it's hard to keep track of who came where and if you'll ever get a break being passed around from cock to cock.

Jack tried so hard not to be as bad as the others because he loves you so much and doesn't want you to hate or fear him in any way, but it's so difficult to resist when he's got Ace in his ear goading him into a useless competition about who can knock you up first and he keeps hearing your pretty moans and smelling your arousal...... And oooo does Jack want you so badly. T_T it's instinct to want to breed you and make you his mate and start a family and live such a happy life together! He wanted to do everything fairly and sweetly and court you without any force in the beginning. But he can't help it once he sinks into your warmth and you're grabbing at his shoulders and begging him to pull out because it's too much, too big, he'll break you... >_< it'll certainly feel even more so when he knots you. Completely accidental, of course!!!! Jack just couldn't help it. orz you felt too good, and you'll be stuck together for quite some time.

But everyone's your good friend! <3 they'll take care of you and clean you up and shower you with boundless love. It's stifling, but they're some of the closest friends you have here at NRC. You trust them, even if that trust earned you a sleeping spell, an aphrodisiac, and a sex marathon.

[thehypnone]

Hyp how do you feel about Dew or Aeon getting railed into nothing but pathetic whimpers by Rain or Swiss?

ehhehe

ngl you always come here with the best damn requests... you said "or" but i saw an opportunity so i went and made it an "and"

850 words, transmasc dew, transmasc aeon/phantom (used aeon because thats the name in the ask and its whatever for me), vaginal sex, praise and slight objectification

Having proper sex on tour wasn’t the easiest. Of course, the ghouls always managed, but proper sex? It usually had to wait for a hotel night and even then they rarely could go full in, being tired of getting scolded for noise complaints and… other complaints. Also the beds were usually too small.

Usually…

This time, for whatever reason, Dewdrop, Swiss, Aeon and Rain were all put into a room together. They all groaned at the news, already imagining being stuck in some tiny shithole where they’d have to constantly keep themselves from ripping each other’s heads off. It all changed when they actually saw the room.

Again, for whatever reason, this hotel was good. Great, even, and the four of them had no idea what they did to deserve such a room, but they’d use it well. Very well.

A few hours after they got to the hotel they were already in the middle of something that could be called an orgy if not the lack of… ritualism.

The first round went by too quickly for anyone’s liking, due to their pent up energy, but they could go for as many rounds as their little demon hearts desired. They had started out with Rain laying flat on the bed on his back, face smothered in Dewdrop’s pussy as the fire ghoul sat on his face, moaning like a whore against the headboard. Rain’s cock had been passionately sucked by a certain quintessence ghoul, who in turn was being fucked from behind by Swiss.

Everyone knew who’d go first, and sure enough, it didn’t take much for Aeon to moan wantonly around Rain’s cock as he’d come, his cunt clenching around Swiss’ dick. That threw both the water and multi ghoul over the edge, too, and Dewdrop had followed shortly after, flooding Rain’s face with slick.

Soon enough they were on it again, this time Rain and Swiss pounding into Dewdrop and Aeon respectively, with all their might, from behind. Skin slapping against skin, various bodily fluids soiling the sheets; moans, whimpers, grunts and cries along with filth and praise spilling from different sets of lips.

“Good boy, Aeon,” Swiss groaned, earning himself a squeeze around his cock for the praise. The quintessence ghoul whimpered under him and Swiss could see tears or drool—or both—dripping from his face onto the bed. “My good doll.”

The noise that left Aeon this time made Rain next to them growl, drilling his cock deep into Dewdrop. It was his turn to moan wreckedly and shudder, arms barely able to hold himself up. Rain smoothed a hand down his sweaty back as he bent down over him, not being able to stop himself from a moment of softness.

“Doing so good for me, droplet,” he whispered. Dewdrop whimpered pathetically, all but choking on his spit. The water ghoul smirked at that, pressing a kiss to the top of his mate’s spine before straightening back up and snapping his hips again, making Dewdrop rock forward.

Swiss turned his head to Rain, grinning at him as he mimicked him, nearly sending Aeon flying to the other end of the bed. “Wanna switch?”

“What?” the water ghoul huffed.

“Our little fuck dolls,” Swiss explained, still grinning, and Rain’s cock kicked when Dewdrop clenched at his words. He liked the idea, then.

With one last thrust Rain pulled out, groaning at the sight of his mate’s ruined cunt. Swiss did the same, slapping Aeon’s ass on his way, and after a bit of shuffling, the water and multi ghoul were slamming back into Aeon and Dewdrop.

All of them were so sensitive, they felt so close, but still not really there. Dewdrop and Aeon were so fucked out that they couldn’t do anything but let out wrecked noises and incoherent babbling. Swiss and Rain weren’t much better off, holding onto their minds with iron grips.

He was so gone he probably didn’t even know who was fucking him.

Soon enough, though, Dewdrop’s moans started to increase in pitch and his cunt started to feel even more slippery, driving Swiss truly insane, but it was something else that made him cum at the spot.

“I’m c– close… Rainy, please.”

Swiss let out a broken whine and folded himself over the fire ghoul, snapping his hips one more time to bury himself in as deep as he’d go and spill inside Dewdrop, clinging to his back. His second orgasm of the night washed over him, too, at the feeling of being pumped full of warm cum.

When the multi ghoul’s sight returned to him, he noticed Aeon was currently squished under Rain next to them. He guessed Dewdrop’s words affected him as much.

The four of them panted heavily, half passed out. Swiss glued his cheek to Dewdrop’s shoulder and kicked up a pleased purr at the intensity of his smell. He closed his eyes for a second.

Or so he thought, because when he opened them again—after not getting a response to something he said—everyone was asleep. In the same positions that they’ve cum in.

[glazedsnail]

Gus Invests in a Karaoke Machine

I woke up this morning and thought this very normal thought:

What song would the bachelor.ette.s sing at karaoke?

Not what they like to listen to, not what they'd want to sing in any normal state.

What they would belt out with a buzzed heart.

So here we go:

Harvey -

And he's absolutely CRUSHING it, everyone in the saloon is floored by how Harvey chanel his best Tim Curry. They're stuck to his lips for every notes with antici... ...pation.

He even shakes his hips, straighten his leg, put on the greatest show. Walk over the patrons, flick their chins, he's not much of a man by the light of day, but by night... Oh yeah. Even grabs Shane's pint in the process, sits on the counter to drink off it. How 'bout that?

Unfortunately he doesn't remember much the next day and wonders why people started calling him Dr Frank-N-Furter for a while.

Elliott -

Starts with a whisper from the heart, making the townspeople think aww he so shy, but then he just FLIES and SWINGS from the chandelier. He IS the bird, he IS free, and he clearly doesnt care if he sings off key.

Beating to the sound of his own untuned drum.

There's a lot of hair flip, and the scream inside that he was hiding FLIES OUT.

His throat hurts the next morning, but he sings for love ♥

Shane -

He wasn't going to partake, but when he heard the few notes from the song coming on as Gus put the machine on Shuffle he simply HAS to grab the mic and DESTROYS it with all his heart.

Oh so you think you got him figured out? THE SEASON'S CHANGING BITCH. Don't you try to save him. He's your HELL he's your DREAM.

The saloon is stunned. He doesn't sing well (like, at all) but damn his heart and soul ARE in it, and it shows. When he's done they're all a bit lost but damn the applauses come soon enough.

He forgets all about it each time.

We wouldn't want him any other way.

Sam -

He tries to pull Seb in, he wants to get Seb to sing with him. He wants to sing Kiki Dee's part solely but he ends up singing both, weirdly harmonizing with himself?? Like it's almost spooky how good he switches from one voice to the other.

A lot of ooh-hoo ooh-hoo but damn this man has a built-in pitch checker, each notes is hit with the precision of an opera singer. He puts the light in your life.

The song ends but he continues with an endless loop of:

Don't go breaking my / Don't go breaking my / Don't go breaking my / Don't go breaking my (please someone take the mic from him)/ Don't go breaking my/ Don't go breaking my...

Sebastian is almost sad he didn't get to sing with him after all but they make it a point to sing it every Karaoke night from now on (and they're perfect, everyone comes in just cause they know this will happen.)

Seb -

Are you a man? Cause I'm a biitcchhhhhhhhh.

Everyone is taken aback, flummoxed, even. How does Sebastian move that way? Who taught him? How flexible is this man? With all due respect, everyone's in heat?? I mean look at him. Rev his engine til you make it purr??

Robin and Demetrius are a bit....puzzled but, man, look at the way he moves. Don't try to give him shit he earned the right to be like this...

Get in loser for the...JOYRIDE micdrop

Immediately acts like absolutely nothing happened. Everybody else follows.

Alex -

Lots of pouting and squinting, finger pointing and shuffling. Each time poiting to a different person, making their heart flutter for a bit.

TELL ME WHY - and everyone else joins in.

He's the bad boy of the backstreet, he is your fire, your one desire. His hands on his body, a lot, A LOT. Is he singing to himself?! That's a lot of body touching...Alex calm down. Pull your shirt down.

His shirt is on the floor by the end of the song, and grabs it to wipes himself with it like he's James Brown. He's having fun and is that not what karaoke's about?

🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶

I'll do bachelorettes next.

[nanapples]

two halves of an apple / caleb x non mc reader tags: unrequited love, angst word count: 1.6k

growing up alongside caleb and mc, you had always been aware of the intensity of their bond. small hands held much too tight and a pair of wary eyes. they were one in the same. two kids that gripped onto each other tight, struggling against the waves of an ocean you couldn't see.

you weren't very receptive to them when your mom had set up an awkward play date with them. your mom sat on the comfort of the bench far away, and you stood in front of two kids that seemed to know more about the world than you did. you felt uncomfortable and a little afraid.

other kids your age would race you to the slides or the swingset. they'd be all smiles and giggles without even knowing. they knew how to make time pass in the blink of an eye, but with caleb and mc, it felt like you were suddenly stuck in time.

their cautiousness remained until you swallowed the nervous knot in your throat and smiled at them. your smile wasn't perfect, but it was a whole lot more sincere than the sympathetic, pitying ones the adults often wore. they were more willing to take a step towards you than the adults that wanted nothing more than to fix them.

the moment you clumsily smiled at them was when things changed. two became three. you, caleb, and mc — whose name you realized wasn't her actual name. it was just a nickname she used. she told you her actual name pretty early on, but you respected her wishes and used the nickname she was most comfortable with. that earned you so much of her admiration.

you weren't always the best you could be. not when you were a kid yourself. growing up, you often got into spats with caleb. he didn't like it when you and mc ran off by yourselves, or how you two would sometimes giggle together without him. playing house with them, he was always a mean dad when you were the mom, but he'd treat mc like a goddess whenever she was the mom instead. it frustrated you to no end.

you knew, early on, that you could never truly fit into their puzzle. it wasn't something you wanted when you were a child, but things changed the older you got. puberty brought unwanted feelings, expectations, and desires.

seeing caleb take such good care of mc, you yearned for it yourself.

you, in a sense, were reborn. from the moment that you knew what you wanted, you became something akin to a two-faced monster. sweet and tender to caleb and mc, but painfully withdrawn anywhere else. you poured everything into them— into caleb.

it was a little exhausting. a lot exhausting, if you were honest with yourself.

your saccharine affections were intrusive. shameless. as much as it unsettled caleb and mc, they were equally just as eager to devour it whole. they were children that needed love to be complete. caleb especially.

whenever you'd grab and hold his hand, he'd grin the biggest grin you'd ever seen. and as much as you loved to see it, you knew he didn't see you as someone, but something. like a puppy dog that chased after its new owner, he would pet you on the head as if you really were one.

you had become something to take advantage of. a constant. something comforting. you had become a ghost of a person, never wholly yourself, and only because you reached out towards something you knew you could never have.

you knew. you always knew, and that never stopped you.

from small children to young adults, you were still so clueless about the world. yet you still desired for the impossible. you stayed by them for as long as you could, squeezing yourself into wherever you could fit between them.

but you couldn't hold back.

one night, you called caleb out to meet you at the neighborhood's playground. he had arrived not long after your call, and when he noticed you without a jacket, he stuffed you into his own.

"now what exactly is this about?" he had asked, oblivious to how your mind shifted and swirled with regret that had formed during the agonizing wait. you could recall how silly he looked, his lips quirked up by the corners, and eyes curled gently.

you swallowed your tongue, freakishly similar to how you did when you first won them over. you were nervous and afraid all over again, and not because you didn't understand something— but because you understood it so well.

"sorry. i just wanted to talk to you." you rubbed the back of your neck. "i know it's late, but i've just been thinking too much. about everything, you know?"

"everything?" caleb repeated your words, holding one eyebrow higher than the other. "did mc's nervousness transfer over to you, hmm?"

"yeah," you laughed. "she really got me thinking."

"mhm." he retired his playful tone of voice, opting to guide you to a nearby bench. he sat you down first, hesitating before taking a seat for himself. he wasn't too far or too close.

he had always maintained an appropriate distance. always.

"i can't believe you and i are already graduating." you looked down at your lap. "it felt like time passed right before my eyes."

"and i, you know, just…" you turned your head, looking back into his lovely eyes.

his expression wasn't at all like the one he had for mc. his eyebrows weren't faintly knitted together out of worry, and his gaze didn't hold an endless amount of affection like it did for her. he still looked at you sweetly. soft and familiar. he cared in his own way. in a way you didn't want.

you wanted more.

"i don't want to lose you, caleb." your hand flinched towards his own. you held onto him like you were sinking into inescapable quicksand. "i don't want to lose you, but i need to tell you something."

"hey…" he whispered, sounding somewhat unwilling. he called your name in the same whispy tone, his expression something bitter.

"caleb, i like—"

his hand flew, within just a few seconds, to your mouth, palm flat against words that he refused to hear. you could hear his heartbeat under his warm skin. judging from the look on his face, you knew he wouldn't let this happen.

"don't," he had said. begged, even. "don't do something stupid, okay?"

stupid.

of course he thought of this as such. a confession unworthy of respect. a nightmare that threatened to spill from your lips.

"i care about you too much." he pulled you into a hug, his heart a rapid rhythm against your body. "isn't that enough?"

"you don't need to worry about anything else." he said like a promise. "without fail, all three of us will stay together. nothing will ever change."

"right?" his arms shook as he kept you close. it was an embrace as tight as handcuffs on weary wrists, a familiar and painful feeling.

you didn't need to ask questions to know what he was doing. there were many times in the past that he would turn a blind eye and feign ignorance. several instances where he would break your heart just a little more each time.

"right…" your agreement came light and airy, your body heavy against his as you sunk back into the murky waters that is your self-pity. willingly accepting defeat, resigned to all that he is, ignoring the ache.

he rejected you for the final time that night.

you had enough of wading waters of an unseen ocean. you brought yourself back to the shore and, once more, were reborn. clarity soaked into your bones, bringing you back to full realization. you needed to regain your sense of self away from caleb and mc.

you were your own person, were you not? you were not just a vessel for maggots of unrequited love to fester in. you were not a two-faced monster. you were just yourself.

healing did not come easy, as much as you would have loved for it to. caleb and mc were your everything. they plagued your thoughts like some sort of curse.

"i wonder if caleb is visiting this weekend,"

"i saw this cafe from mc's moments. she really liked the lattes here."

"there's a firework show coming up this weekend. it would've been nice to see it with them."

"what a cute apple plushie. it reminds me of him."

"this necklace is similar to the one mc gave to caleb."

"…the asiatic apple trees have begun blooming. how pretty."

like the moon's inevitable pull from the earth, you gradually separated from them. a gradual shift in what you were all used to. tragic, but needed. picking and piecing yourself back together was a cumbersome and intimate task, and you needed to do it alone. you wanted to do it alone.

maybe, one day, you will find yourself back in their orbit. you would take their hands in yours and hug them tight, honest and true when you express how much you missed them. it'll be a lovely moment where your friendship will be reborn anew— just like you have many times before.

two would return to three, and you would no longer want anything more than that.

but that day is not today.

today, the pink leaves from the asiatic apple trees kiss your cheek in passing, a gesture so sweet it makes your heart swell with joy. this afternoon, so peaceful and calm, holds you steady without asking for anything in return. so, for just little while longer, you want to protect what you've become without them. without caleb or mc.

this is the most content you've ever felt.

for now, it is more than enough.