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kwanisms · 5 months ago

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Sweet Temptations — p.seonghwa

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➮ florist!Seonghwa × fem!Reader wc: 22.1k (sorry lmao) summary: Y/N favorite part of working at the Sweet Temptations Cafe is the view of the gorgeous flower shop across the street and the handsome and kind florist who comes in every morning at 7 am on the dot. genres/themes/au: smut; flower love language, strangers to lovers; non idol au, florist au, barista au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, flirty Seonghwa, also Seonghwa being a menace, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

join my taglist! MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this is my submission for the @cultofdionysus Spring event, The Language of Flowers. I have no excuse for the word count lmao just enjoy it. I’m probably going to stick to posting longer oneshots because I enjoy world building. Thank you so much @cheolism for beta-reading this for me ꒰｡•◡•｡꒱ thank you to everyone who reads this and if you reblog it, just know I’m tucking you into bed and kissing ur forehead 😘 as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: male masturbation, corruption kink, unprotected sex (wrap that shit), oral (m receiving, f receiving), mild facefucking (f receiving), dirty talk, praise (f receiving), finger sucking, spitting, choking (f receiving), marking/biting (f receiving), semi public sex, rough sex, hair pulling (m receiving), mild breeding kink, use of pet names (baeknari/lily, petal, blossom, sweetheart, kitten, etc.), dom!Seonghwa, sub!Reader, and I think that’s it but I could have missed some lol

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Park Seonghwa was a simple man, known for three things: his love for coffee, his punctuality, and his affinity for flowers.

It had never been his intention to open a flower shop but somehow it had happened. When he was a child, his father had loved gardening, as had his mother. From a young age Seonghwa had learned the language of flowers, particularly of those in his parents’ garden. Along with his exceedingly good looks, his knowledge of flowers ended up helping him score points with the girls in his class.

As a teenager, Seonghwa wanted to be an athlete, particularly in volleyball, having lost his love for flowers and their secret language. He'd intended to make that his career but after the untimely death of his grandmother, Seonghwa rediscovered a passion and love for flowers. He changed his major from sports to business administration and upon graduating with a degree, he set out to start a business.

Four years had passed since he opened his flower shop, The Flower Guy, and he was surprised by the overwhelmingly positive response from the town. Business had been booming ever since he opened his shop and it didn’t die down. He’d built up a steady clientele, from other businesses to wedding planners.

He’d been able to turn it into his livelihood and couldn’t be happier with the decisions that led him to where he was now, even as he swept the floor of the shop, pushing the dirt into the waiting dustpan.

The sun was setting over the town square, basking the buildings in its dying golden glow. With a stretch and a sigh, Seonghwa checked the time on his watch before walking over, turning the lock on the door, and flipping off the switch for the open sign. He went back to his sweeping, brushing all the dirt and debris from the stone tile into the dustpan before picking it up and making his way to the back of his shop to deposit the dirt.

He checked the door leading to the narrow alley behind his shop, making sure the lock was secure — although if anyone did manage to break in, the most they would find were some flowers and maybe some gardening tools. Seonghwa was a smart man and always made sure to empty the register and do his accounting at the end of each day, taking everything home to put in his safe there. The safe in the shop was for show and only kept papers inside.

After putting away the broom and dustpan, he set to work mopping the tiles from the door to the back before putting the microfiber mop away. He then set to work, misting all the flowers in the back room. After he grabbed the till from the register, moving back to the office to start the process of closing up and counting the profits of the day.

You flipped the sign from opened to closed and let out a yawn. The square outside was almost deserted, only a few people still outside, enjoying the nice weather of the day.

“Y/N, could you wipe down the tables and counter for me?” you heard from behind you and turned to find your manager, Addie, already starting to mop.

Without a word, you headed through the shop, ducking behind the counter to grab a clean rag and the bucket of soapy disinfectant water. You grabbed a pair of gloves, pulling them on before heading out to start wiping the tables down and cleaning them up. You worked in silence, the soft piano tones of the overhead speakers playing on low volume.

The cafe wasn’t very big, and the tables weren’t exceptionally dirty, so it didn’t take you any longer than usual to wipe all of them down. You were wiping down the counter, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn spot of spilled coffee you must have missed earlier in the day when Addie returned, opening the drawer of the first register and starting to read the card slips, inputting any of the tips that hadn’t been put into the computer.

Once done, she pulled out the money and added it to the jar you kept on the counter by the register for tips before moving to the other register and repeating the process. It had just been the two of you working the front end and one person, Lin, in the kitchen.

Wednesdays weren’t a particularly busy day for the cafe and the amount of work you had closing reflected that. Addie went to the back to do the daily accounting while you checked on Lin in the kitchen, offering them your help. Once you were both done, you announced your departure to Addie who wished you both a good night.

Outside, you said goodbye to your coworker and noticed the door of the flower shop opening. The florist was exiting, shutting the door behind him and locking it with his key which he returned to his pocket. He turned and froze, noticing you watching him.

“Good evening,” you said as he started forward again, closing the distance between you.

“Evening, baeknari,” he said, a smile on his face as he reached you, matching your pace as you started to walk alongside him.

‘That nickname again,’ you thought to yourself, a smile threatening to spread across your lips.

You remembered when you’d asked him what it meant and he told you that in Korean it meant white lily. For some reason, him calling you ‘white lily’ made you giddy.

“Busy today?” you asked, keeping your hands tucked in your pockets.

“Not terribly,” he replied, his own hands tucked in his coat pockets. “Mainly just people coming to buy flowers for their partners. Got a couple events booked next week,” he added.

“Do you book a lot of events?” you asked as the two of you walked towards the main street.

“A fair few.Mostly birthdays and the odd anniversary,” he explained. “The floral arrangements for those are always easy.”

You smiled as you glanced up at him.

Ever since you’d first met Seonghwa, there was something about him that drew you to him. Maybe it was his passion for his craft, his sense of humor, or maybe his incredibly good looks. Regardless, you had been intrigued immediately and were interested in getting to know him on a more personal level.

You knew almost next to nothing about the man other than he liked banana nut muffins, caramel macchiatos with white chocolate sauce, and flowers. You could pick out other little facts based on your short interactions with him. He dressed like a model, wearing clothes that probably cost more than you were willing to spend. Then again, he could probably make anything he wore look expensive.

He also smelled amazing, like warm vanilla and cinnamon.

Not that you took to smelling him often. The scent just permeated the air around him; not in a way that had you coughing or gagging, though. He reeked of expensive taste and oozed a confidence and charisma that you could only dream of possessing.

“What are the hardest events?” you asked, looking up at him. The two of you stopped at the main thoroughfare and Seonghwa turned to look at you, fixing you with his dark brown eyes. He hesitated a moment before answering your question.

“Weddings,” he said honestly. “I love booking weddings because I can make a lot of money doing floral arrangements for an entire venue but there’s the…” he trailed off, glancing away and across the street. You took a step forward, not realizing it until he looked back down at you and was considerably closer.

That was the thing about Seonghwa, he had this innate ability to draw people into him, figuratively and literally. He was alluring and magnanimous. He always managed to invade your thoughts and made you want more of him, whether that be through conversation or something more intimate —

‘Get it together, Y/N. You’re in public!’

“The what?” you asked softly. Seonghwa chuckled lightly before answering.

“The brides,” he replied. Your brows knitted together, confusion taking over your features.

“The brides?” you asked. “What’s wrong with the brides?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “Nothing, inherently. It’s just some of them.”

You nodded, understanding instantly.

“Ah,” you replied, fighting the urge to smirk. “Bridezillas.”

He nodded, eyes scanning your face as you glanced at a passing couple with a dog, a smile crossing your face. One of your favorite things about this town was all the dog owners. You loved dogs.

‘Distracted much?’

You turned back to Seonghwa. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The bridezillas.”

You opened your mouth to respond but was cut short by the shrill sound of a ringing phone. Seonghwa sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, holding up a finger. “Hold that thought,” he said, fishing his phone from his pocket, and checked the screen.

Whoever was on the other end he must not have wanted to talk to, because he groaned and rolled his eyes yet again. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly, looking up at you. “I have to take this and if I know this person, they’re going to talk and talk and talk. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You nodded as he started to back away, his phone still ringing. “Have a good night!” you called as he answered the phone.

“You, too!” he said before turning away and starting to walk in the direction of his home, leaving you to turn and walk the opposite direction.

“This had better be good, Joong,” Seonghwa snapped. “I was in the middle of a conversation with —”

“With Cafe Girl?”

Seonghwa sighed, coming to a halt and pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Yes. And for the last time, her name is Y/N.”

Hongjoong chuckled on the other end. “Yeah, her. Have you asked her out yet?”

Seonghwa continued walking, switching his phone to the other side. “No,” he answered. “Not yet.”

Hongjoong booed him and Seonghwa clenched his jaw as he walked through the few pedestrians on the sidewalk, making his way to his apartment. “You’re never gonna get in her bed if you don’t ask her out.”

Seonghwa could have strangled his friend.

“Is there a point to your call?” Seonghwa asked as he approached the door to his building.

“Oh, right! I have this thing,” Hongjoong started. “An event.”

Seonghwa snorted as he typed the code in to get into his building. “You have an event?” he asked incredulously as he walked across the lobby, nodding at one of his neighbors picking up their mail as he stopped by his mailbox to retrieve his.

“Yes,” Hongjoong said, sounding indignant. “I have an event and I was wonder—”

“Let me guess,” Seonghwa said as he pressed the button for the elevator. “You want me to do floral arrangements?”

He heard Hongjoong scoff over the phone. “No, I was gonna ask you to attend, smartass.”

Seonghwa got off at his floor and made his way to his door, bowing politely to his neighbor as he passed.

“When is it?” Seonghwa asked as he reached his door, fishing out his keys and unlocking the door.

Once inside, he kicked his shoes off and walked over to deposit his mail on the kitchen counter.

“Next month, the 30th.”

Seonghwa told him to hold, pulling his phone away from his ear to check his calendar.

“I should be free,” he said. “Send me the details,” he added as he started to go through his mail.

“Awesome. And actually, on second thought, could you perhaps make me something pretty to display?”

Seonghwa chuckled, shaking his head. “Goodbye Joong,” he said, hanging up before his best friend could say anything else.

“The nerve of that guy,” he whispered as he set his phone down. “To expect me to make him shit for free.”

Of course, Seonghwa would make something nice for Hongjoong and he would definitely be doing it for free.

Free food and alcohol that is.

——————————————————

‘Well, shit.’

Seonghwa stared at the long line from outside the cafe and sighed, reluctantly pulling open the door and stepping, holding the door for two people who were leaving. He glanced over the heads of the patrons before him to find you working diligently to take orders with another cashier and even hopping on to help fulfill orders, making lattes and wrapping up scones, muffins, and other pastries all with a smile on your face.

One of his favorite things about you. You never complained, at least not in front of the customers. You never let them see how overwhelmed or stressed you were. You always had a smile on your face, working fast to make sure everyone’s orders came out in a timely manner.

You handed over a bag full of pastries, giving the customer in front of you another radiant smile before they stepped aside to wait for their coffee and you were able to take the next order. Seonghwa couldn’t help but watch you work. He always had a habit of watching you when he came in.

He hated how creepy that made him sound but he was just so fascinated with how well you seemed to work under pressure and how well you kept it together when a customer was screaming in your face. You were always so polite and so sweet and Seonghwa knew he wasn’t the only one who noticed you.

There were always a plethora of men who flirted with you, asking for your number, asking what time you got off work. And always you turned them down gently and sent them on their way; every single guy got the same treatment.

Well, every guy except for Seonghwa. He noticed that when the other guys flirted, you smiled and steered the conversation back to their order, yet when Seonghwa did the exact same thing, flirting with you as if you hadn’t heard every pick up line in the book, you never once turned him down.

In fact, if Seonghwa was remembering correctly, you often flirted back with him, smile widening into a genuine one before you looked down at the counter and either busied yourself with a marker or your apron, something you often did when you were flustered.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but with him, you always flirted back and it drove Seonghwa increasingly mad. Especially when your smiles turned shy, you shifted nervously, or pretended to be busy, all tell tale signs you were shy or flustered.

Seonghwa remembered the first day you started working here, having been a regular customer for several years. He’d seen several guys flirt with you before he approached the counter and made a joke about them, which made you genuinely laugh. That was the exact moment he knew you were going to plague his every thought.

That laugh, the way you threw your head back, the genuine joy and amusement on your face and the cute stickers you added to his cup sent the signal that you just might be interested in him and so every day for the last two years, he’s been coming to this cafe.

Not for the coffee, not for the pastries, but to see your beautiful face. Hopefully make you smile or laugh, and when he did, it gave him enough fuel to get through the day, more than the coffee or the muffins you sold him every morning.

Seonghwa was only a few paces from the counter when you noticed him. You had been making a latte when you glanced over and noticed him, a shy smile gracing your lips before you went back to work so as to not spill any of the boiling hot coffee on your hands.

The next customer went, ordering what seemed to be the entire left side of the menu; thankfully the person before Seonghwa ordered a simple black coffee and a sugar-free blueberry muffin; then it was his turn. You wiped down the counter and smiled at him which soon turned apologetic.

“I’m so sorry,” you started softly. Seonghwa’s stomach sank and he wondered what you could possibly need to apologize to him for. “We ran out of your usual muffin,” you explained and Seonghwa smiled, his stomach settling back where it was supposed to be. No banana nut muffins? No problem.

“Oh that’s alright,” he said, glancing at the menu quickly. “Just the usual coffee and I’ll try a lemon poppyseed muffin instead,” he ordered, pulling his wallet out as you punched his order in and pressing the card reader option on the terminal.

“Sorry it’s so busy,” you added in an undertone. Seonghwa tapped his card against the reader until it beeped and put his card away in his wallet, placing it back in his pocket.

“And take your time,” he added. “I’m not in any rush.” You smiled and mouthed ‘thank you’ before turning to start making his coffee.

It wasn’t like anyone else couldn’t make his coffee, but he preferred it when you did and knew you preferred it, too. You often drew little doodles or added stickers and left encouraging messages on his cup sleeve — which he totally didn’t keep when he needed a mood pick up during the long hours at the shop.

He waited patiently off to the side, checking his phone. He wished he could get your number one of these days but he really had no way of asking, considering he knew you’d never be able to give your number to a customer while you were working. That had to be against a bunch of rules.

But he could leave his number with you, right? God, he was stupid. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

Seonghwa approached the counter to speak to your co-worker. “Hi,” he said softly. “Do you have a post-it note and a pen I could borrow?” he asked. The college-aged student nodded, grabbing a stack of yellow post-its and a pen, handing them off to Seonghwa. He took them with a thanks, scribbling down his number and name.

You moved from the coffee maker and slid open the cold case to grab his muffin with a deli paper. You placed it into a paper sack and grabbed the coffee cup, moving to the pick up area where Seonghwa was waiting. “One caramel macchiato with white chocolate sauce and a lemon poppyseed muffin,” you said with a smile as you placed his order on the counter and pushed it towards him.

Seonghwa leaned forward, thanking you and pressing the folded yellow post-it into your hand before grabbing his coffee and muffin, giving you a wink, and making his way to the door. He didn’t stop to see if you opened the note. He would find out later if you took him up on his offer.

As he reached the door to his shop, fishing his keys out to unlock the door and let himself in, he felt his pocket vibrate in his pocket and chuckled to himself. “That was fast,” he whispered as he shut the door and turned the lock, moving through the front room and into the office.

He set his coffee and muffin down, reached into his coat pocket and pulled his phone out, expecting to see an unknown number but instead saw a text from Hongjoong.

Joongie: what was that shit we got when we were in the city last month? The wine. The red one Seonghwa rolled his eyes before typing in a quick response. Seonghwa: the red wine we got at dinner from that one restaurant? It was Roscato – Rosso Dolce. Joongie: ur a life saver! (: thank u! Seonghwa: is this to impress a girl? Joongie: I’ll never tell ;)

Seonghwa rolled his eyes and locked the screen of his phone, setting it down on the desk and removing his coat to hang up. He sat down and opened his bag to pull out the muffin and took a nibble. It wasn’t bad. The banana nut ones were his favorite but this would do.

He grabbed the coffee cup and smiled at the words and doodles on the page as well as a couple stickers. ‘She must have done this when I wasn’t looking,’ he told himself, smiling at the little notes you left on his coffee sleeve. Another one for his collection.

The rush had finally ended and you could take your break. You grabbed a simple iced coffee and a muffin, moving to the back to sit at the break table and pulled the yellow note from your apron. You unfolded it and read on the note.

You smiled, gently nibbling on your bottom lip as you slipped your phone out of your pocket and opened your texting app, entering his digits into your phone and sending a quick text.

Y/N: hey. it’s Y/N (: I’d love to get dinner with you. Just say the time and place

You continued to pick and nibble on your muffin, scrolling on your phone as you ticked away the minutes of your break. You decided to send one more text to let Seonghwa know you were heading back to work and would be unavailable until after your shift was over.

Once it sent, you pocketed the device and went back to work, trying desperately not to think about the phone in your apron pocket that vibrated every so often and what that notification might be.

The rest of your shift was uneventful as you took orders from the few stragglers that came in, others coming in to take up residence at a table and work on either work or school work while sipping on their coffee and taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi.

“Could you take these back to the kitchen to be washed,” Addie asked softly, pulling you out of your stupor as you stood doodling mindlessly on a notepad you kept at the register. You set the pen down and stood up, taking the carafes from her and heading for the doorway into the kitchen where Lin was currently washing dishes.

“Need any help back here?” you asked, hopefully but they shook their head.

“Nah,” Lin answered. “I got it. But thank you,” they added.

You turned away and headed back up front, sighing heavily as you returned to your spot. You glanced up at the clock. Time seemed to be ticking slowly, minute by minute. Inching by like a snail on a garden wall. Slow and steady wins the race but what race? Race of being bored to death?

‘Okay, Y/N, stop being dramatic.’

“Addie,” you murmured, chin resting in your hand as you looked around at the mostly empty cafe. “I’m dying of boredom here,” you announced before turning to face her. “Please tell me you have something for me to do,” you said, almost pleadingly. Addie chuckled and nodded towards the dining area.

“If you’re desperate for something to do, you can wipe down the empty tables,” she answered and you smiled, ducking down to grab the small bucket of soapy sanitizer water and a clean rag, before standing up and making your way out from behind the counter.

Cleaning the tables was something to keep your body occupied but unfortunately it didn’t do much for keeping your mind occupied. Every once in a while, you threw glances towards the windows that looked out into the town square where you could see the front of the flower shop.

You pulled your phone out and snuck a glance at the screen but there were no notifications beyond your discord group chats with friends. ‘He must be really busy,’ you thought to yourself as you tucked your phone away and went back to wiping down the tables.

Every time a table cleared, you were quick to wipe it down, brushing any debris onto the floor to sweep up later with the broom.

When the last of the customers cleared out and Addie shut the door, locking it and flipping the open sign over to the side that read ‘closed,’ you were beyond excited to get out of the cafe and go home.

Grabbing the broom, you started from the back, sweeping around the cafe, making little piles of dirt, trash, and other debris to come by and pick up with the dustpan later. Lin finished the dishes in the back and was restocking the small fridges under the counter while Addie was preparing things for the following day.

Once your small mounds of dust and trash had been swept up, you made your way to the back to fill the mop bucket and grab the mop. Taking it back to the front, you worked from the far side of the shop towards the counter while Lin returned to the kitchen to clean the back.

By the time both you and Lin had finished mopping and drying key areas of the floor, Addie had finished counting the tills and was in the office, doing the final accounting duties of the day.

“We’re finished, Addie,” Lin said as you both peered into the office.

“All right,” she replied. “I’ll see you two tomorrow?”

You nodded, waving and then made your way to the front door, Lin not far behind.

“Do you want to grab an early dinner?” Lin asked as they pulled their beanie on, the ends of their hair multicolored flipping up. You smiled and shook your head.

“No, but thank you,” you replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” you announced as you turned to walk in the direction of your home, Lin heading the opposite way.

As you passed, you glanced over at the floral shop to see the lights inside were still on from what you could see; the open sign had also been flipped to show it was now closed. You hadn’t seen anyone go in or out of the shop since Seonghwa entered it this morning and you wondered if it was normally closed on certain weekdays and you just hadn’t noticed before.

You were half tempted to stop by, knock on the door and tell Seonghwa in person that you were interested in going on that date, but you’d have to just trust he would get your texts. You didn’t want to come off as desperate but something inside you told you Seonghwa wouldn’t mind even if you did.

Still, you would wait for his response.

Seonghwa looked up from sweeping to notice the cafe had already flipped its open sign. He could see your figure in the distance walking away from the shop and he watched as you walked away, resisting the urge to exit his own shop and stop you. He’d just wait until he got home to check his messages.

He hadn’t been able to look at his phone since that morning when Hongjoong texted him. He had orders to fill for school dances and other events. It was also pruning day so he really couldn’t have his phone on him with how much work he had to do.

He turned away as your form disappeared from his line of sight and continued sweeping. His hands tightened around the broomstick, the frequency of his sweeping motion increasing as he remembered the way your eyes looked up at him in curiosity when he handed you the note and it made his mind run wild.

‘No. Stop it.’

He shook his head and tried to go back to the task at hand but it wasn’t long until his mind wandered, imagining how you’d look bending over to sweep the cafe and again he had to take a deep breath and force his mind elsewhere. It was getting ridiculous, the way his thoughts ran wild when you were on the forefront of his mind.

He was no stranger to fantasies but this was beyond fantasizing at this point. He couldn’t help but think about you doing the most mundane tasks before his imagination got away from him and he was imagining bending you over his kitchen counter, or laying you back on the counter of the cafe as he buried his head between your thighs —

“Stop it!” he shouted, throwing the broom to the floor with a clatter as he ran his fingers through his hair, eyes screwed shut as he regulated his breathing, shoulders rising and falling as he failed to gain control of his own thoughts and emotions.

His constant fantasizing made him feel like some sort of crazed sexual deviant and he often wondered if maybe he just needed to get laid and the thoughts might go away. Unfortunately for him, the only person he wanted was the source of his anguish, the subject of all his fantasies and thoughts.

Seonghwa grumbled to himself, bending over to pick up the broom and resume sweeping. He needed to get it done fast so he could go home to find some relief.

Once the shop was clean and locked up tightly, Seonghwa left out the front door, the bell ringing as he opened the door and shut it. Once he locked it, he began making his way across the square in the same direction you had initially gone, only to eventually turn right and head for his own apartment.

It wasn’t much, an old brick building that was once a high school before the new one was built and the old one turned into apartments. It was the first place Seonghwa looked when he was moving to this town and found a one bedroom apartment with a den. He’d lived there ever since, turning the clean slate into a home.

The bedroom Seonghwa had turned into an office and opted to sleep in the den where there were no windows. He had this thing about light; he couldn’t sleep if any lights were on, even if they came from outside. The den had no window, and so he didn’t need to buy blackout curtains. The doors to the den were double sliding doors that met in the middle and with the twist of a knob, locked together. It wasn’t as sturdy as a bedroom door, but it did the job.

Seonghwa unlocked the door, letting himself into the apartment where he shut and locked the door. He then leaned against it, letting out a sigh that morphed into a groan. He took off his shoes, setting them by the shoe rack, and removed his coat, hanging it up in the closet by the front door.

He set his mail on the counter and started going through it, sorting the important stuff from the junk.

Once that was done, he checked the time and sighed before picking up his phone and scrolling through the options for delivery. Once he settled on something, he placed his order and went about his business until there was a buzz at the intercom.

The restaurant must not have been busy because his food arrived promptly and he buzzed the driver up, paying him and giving a generous tip before closing the door and settling down with his meal and a show for background noise.

His thoughts shifted to you and what you might be having for dinner. Were you eating alone? Were you watching TV? Had you gone on a date? That last thought almost soured his mood but he forced the thought from his mind and dug his phone out of his pocket.

He had a handful of texts from an unknown number and opened the messages.

xxx-xxxx-xxxx: hey. it’s Y/N (: I’d love to get dinner with you. Just say the time and place xxx-xxxx-xxxx: i was on my break but i have to go back now and won’t be able to check my phone xxx-xxxx-xxxx: just let me know! xxx-xxxx-xxxx: hey i just got off and i’m heading home. xxx-xxxx-xxxx: i’m still interested in getting dinner with you sometime

Seonghwa smiled to himself reading your texts before he promptly saved your number to his phone and shot you a few texts back.

Seonghwa: hey sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I just sat down to eat dinner. It was a busy day at the shop Seonghwa: if you’re still interested, i’d love to get dinner some time this week Seonghwa: does this Saturday work for you?

He set his phone aside and resumed eating only for his screen to light up with a new text from you. ‘She responded so fast?’ he thought. ‘Is she eager?’ Or perhaps, like him, she was desperate. Not that he would judge. He would never think of you in a bad way. He knew he was desperate, maybe even pathetic at times, but you? Not you. You were nothing like him.

Y/N: saturday sounds perfect (: what time?

He typed a quick response, trying not to get overly excited by the fact that you wanted to see him too. ‘It’s not that serious,’ he told himself. ‘Down boy.’

Seonghwa: how about 7? I know this Italian place not far from my apartment

He held his phone in his hand, food all but forgotten as he waited for your response which came just as quickly as it had before.

Y/N: sounds perfect! Send me the address and I’ll meet you there

Seonghwa smiled to himself as he typed in the restaurant name and address for you to save before he set his phone down and looked at his forgotten meal, cursing silently as he picked up his utensil and continued eating.

He had a date with you on Saturday at seven pm and he was going to need to be on his best behavior.

After eating, he cleaned up and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Since the sweeping incident, he hadn’t been able to calm down and decided it would be best if he just relieved himself in the shower.

It had come down to this plenty of times before, fantasizing about you while he was at work only to have to come home and jerk off so he could settle down and go to sleep. It was like second nature at this point. He had a few fantasies he could relive in moments like these, letting out a sigh as the hot water beat down on him, running down his body as he stood under the stream.

He pushed his hair out of his face, keeping his eyes shut as he let his hands rest on the back of his neck. Taking a deep breath, he let one of his hands wander, sliding down his chest, moving slowly further and further down until the tips of his fingers brushed over his pubic region, stopping to take a deep breath.

Behind his eyelids, he imagined your face, your sweet smile when he would flirt with you, the way you looked away clearly flustered by his attention. The images in his mind shifted to you standing in his kitchen; it wasn’t entirely uncommon for his fantasies to start off with doing something domestic like cooking.

He let out a sigh as his fingers wrapped around the base of his cock. In his mind, he had you bent over the counter, panties around your ankles as he guided the tip of his cock to your soaking entrance.

Slowly Seonghwa’s hand moved, stroking himself as he imagined it was your cunt instead that was cripping him tightly. He could almost hear your whimpers as he imagined he was thrusting into your warm, velvety walls instead of into his fist.

“Fuck,” he hissed, chest rising and falling with labored breaths as he continued to stroke himself, squeezing the base of his cock like he imagined your cunt would as you started to spasm around him. A few more strokes and he let out a stifled moan as he came, ropes of white hitting the shower tile.

He took a few moments to regain his composure before spraying down the tiles, washing away the shame of fantasizing about you. He always felt guilty following this sessions in the shower or in his bed as he imagined fucking you or your mouth but the shame would ebb away and the desire to have you, to corrupt you, would return in full force.

As he continued with the routine of his shower, he wondered what you looked like when you came. Did your eyes roll back as your lips parted in a silent moan?

Did you cry out, tears in the corner of your eyes as you came? He wanted nothing more than to find out, but he had to remind himself to take it slow. He didn’t want to scare you.

‘Baby steps.’

Once he was cleaned, dried, and dressed in his pajamas, Seonghwa entered the den, shutting the doors behind him and moving to set his phone on the wireless charger. He noticed he had another text from you.

Y/N: goodnight Seonghwa (:

He smiled as he sent a text back before putting his phone on Do Not Disturb and set it on the charger. He turned off the light and got into bed, thankfully drifting off to sleep quickly.

As quickly as sleep came, the dreams followed and the next morning, Seonghwa woke up with a raging hard-on and a new fantasy involving the cute barista from his favorite cafe.

After taking a quick shower to relieve himself, Seonghwa got dressed and headed out of the apartment, making his way down the stairs when he checked his pocket to find he was missing his phone. “Damn it,” he cursed softly and headed back up, letting himself into his apartment and grabbing his phone from where he left it in his room.

He checked the screen to see if it was charged and found a few message notifications. He opened the device and smiled as he read the texts from you.

Y/N: good morning Seonghwa Y/N: i hope you slept well! (: Y/N: i can’t wait to see you in the cafe this morning

Seonghwa chuckled, pocketing the phone and headed back out to start making his way to the town square. The whole walk there, he contemplated going to another cafe but felt that might be a little mean. Maybe he just wanted you to long for his presence the way he longed for yours.

The scene in the cafe was the opposite of the previous morning and you were currently camped out by the register, ringing up an order for a small elderly woman. When she paid and stepped aside it was Seonghwa’s turn and he was instantly glad he decided not to visit another cafe.

The smile that spread across your lips and reached to your eyes was even more radiant than any smile he’d seen before. “Good morning,” you said breathlessly and Seonghwa knew it the way you said it was more than a standard employee greeting a customer.

There was a sparkle in your eyes he’d never seen before. Almost a yearning, like you were excited to see him. ‘Cute,’ he told himself as he glanced up at the menu. As if he even needed to.

“The usual?” you asked before he could start order and he smiled at your eagerness to serve him.

Before he could stop it, his mind wandered and he wondered if you were this eager to please in other areas. ‘Don’t do this. Not right now,’ he told himself. He swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yes please,” he replied, feeling relieved when you looked down to punch in his order.

You told him his total, pressing the button for the card reader yet again, same routine as the day before and he paid by tapping his card against the reader. Once it beeped, you printed off the receipt and set it on a stack after he refused it. You opened the case to get his muffin, a banana nut one, from the second shelf, put it in a paper bag, and handed it to him before getting started on his coffee.

Seonghwa normally busied himself with his phone while you worked but this time, he didn’t look away. Instead he allowed his eyes to wander, taking in your backside. He was eternally grateful the cafe didn’t force you to wear some ugly uniform.

You wore a knee length cream colored dress with a white lace trim peeking out from under the hem. The dress was fitted at the waist, showing off your curves as you worked. The sleeves were short and there was a collared v-neck. The dark brown apron you wore complimented the dress, offering some contrast.

Seonghwa didn’t often take in what you were wearing, but the dress was really pretty on you. He wondered if you always wore clothes like this to work or if you had dressed up for him.

You finished his coffee, placing a lid on it and then sliding the cup into a sleeve before picking up a marker and starting to write on it. He saw you sneak a couple of stickers onto the sleeve before walking over to the pick up counter and set his coffee down.

“One caramel macchiato with white chocolate sauce,” you said softly, almost shyly as he stepped forward to take it.

“Thank you,” he said softly and smiled as you adjusted the ties of your apron that most certainly didn’t need adjusting. “See you later,” Seonghwa said softly, sending you a wink and making his way towards the door, pushing it open with his back and stepping out into the square.

You sighed and watched Seonghwa walk out of the door, crossing the square to the floral shop and watched as he opened the door. “What are you looking at?” Lin asked in your ear and you flinched, turning your gaze away from the windows, grabbing a towel and starting to wipe the counters.

“N-nothing,” you stammered but Lin already saw everything.

“Isn’t that the florist?” they asked. You shrugged, falling silent as you scrubbed at a stubborn spot on the counter.

“He’s pretty handsome,” Lin added as you pretended to be busy.

“Who’s pretty handsome?” a voice asked and you both turned to see Addie standing by the espresso machine, arms crossed as she leaned against the counter. “The florist,” Lin answered before you could stop them. Addie raised an eyebrow, glancing out the cafe windows over at the flower shop before looking back at you.

“What about him?”

“Y/N was sighing and watching him walk away,” Lin said, smirking at you as your cheeks burned and you looked away.

“Sighing?” Addie asked, glancing at you. “Oh no, is Y/N in love?” she asked, a slight teasing tone in her voice.

You rolled your eyes, setting the rag under the counter and started to walk away.

“I hate you guys,” you muttered, but you in fact did not hate them. A fact they were well aware of.

Throughout your shift, you sent texts to Seonghwa and he replied when he could. You could see people going in and out of the shop all day, some leaving with large bouquets and others with small ones or single flowers. Business was clearly booming, or was it blooming?

While you were waiting for your shift to end, you decided to pull up the restaurant Seonghwa had suggested, something you should have done yesterday when he first brought it up but it slipped your mind. He had mentioned it was an Italian place and the menu looked good.

As the day wore on, you were getting more and more excited for your date with the handsome florist.

Saturday, for you, could not come fast enough.

——————————————————

For Seonghwa, Saturday came much too fast and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. The fantasies starring you had increased in frequency and he was finding it harder (no pun intended) to not pop a boner at the mere thought of you. He needed to learn to control himself.

He stood in front of his mirror, adjusting the cuff of his black shirt as he looked over his appearance, seeing if anything was out of place. He took a deep breath and gave his reflection a nod before moving to grab his coat, sliding it on. From the counter, he retrieved his keys, wallet, and phone, pocketing the items as he walked over to the door, slipping on his shoes, and let himself out into the hall.

The ride in the small old elevator down to the main floor took a few minutes from his apartment on the top floor and soon he was walking through the empty lobby, footsteps echoing against the walls as he crossed the tile floor to the front door.

The walk to the restaurant wasn’t a long one and he hoped it wasn’t too far for you either. He didn’t know exactly where you lived, he just knew you always turned left at the main road when walking home and he always went right.

The restaurant had opened up recently in a newly renovated building of connected shops. Seonghwa had seen it in passing a couple times and now that the opportunity to go on a date had presented itself, he figured it would be the perfect time to check it out, and who better to experience it with than the person who occupied almost all his thoughts.

Seonghwa arrived after a brisk walk, pulling the door open and then holding it for two people exiting. He stepped inside, approaching the host stand where a young woman with shoulder length brown hair wearing a plain black tee, black slacks stood.

She smiled up at him as he approached.

“Hi, just one?” she asked, grabbing a menu.

“Uh, two actually. I have a reservation,” Seonghwa answered.

She smiled, setting the menu down and opening the book. “Name?” she asked, picking up a black pen and scanning the sheet.

“Park,” he answered, waiting for her to find his name.

“You’re a little early,” she noted, checking the time. “I can mark you down and when your table opens up, I can send you a text,” she offered, looking up.

“I think I’ll just sit at the bar,” he said, watching as he scribbled something down on the page.

“Alright,” she said, smiling as she clicked the pen. “I’ll let you know when a table opens up.”

Seonghwa thanked her and made his way over to the bar, catching the bartender’s attention as he took a seat. The bartender, a man who seemed to be around his age, set a napkin in front of him. “What can I get you?” he asked. Seonghwa glanced at the glass bottles that lined a shelf behind him.

“Could I get a whiskey, neat?” he asked, looking back at the bartender who nodded and turned to open the case with the chilled glasses. Seonghwa took the opportunity to shrug out of his coat and look around as he unbuttoned his sleeve cuffs.

He had expected the restaurant to have a more modern feel but instead of a clean and sterile environment, the textured wallpaper was a cream colored, contrasting with the dark warm wood floors and accents. The tables were all round, covered in white tablecloth. The larger tables were in the middle with white cushioned chairs to accommodate 6 people. Along the windowed walls were smaller tables for two to three people.

Seonghwa turned back as the bartender returned, setting his drink in front of him. Seonghwa thanked him and pulled his wallet out to pay but the bartender declined. “First one’s on the house,” he said with a smile and walked away to go about his duties.

Seonghwa picked up the glass, swirling the amber-colored liquid before raising the glass to his lips and tilting his head back. The burn of the alcohol brought him out of his own swirling thoughts and he let out a small sigh as he set the glass down and waited, hoping you were on your way.

You glanced at your reflection for what felt like the millionth time since putting on your dress.

You’d opted for a white fitted one, which was a bold choice given that you were going to an Italian restaurant. You had gone back and forth on what to wear, trying to decide between a black dress and the white one you were currently sporting.

You checked the time and cursed. If you wanted to get to the restaurant on time, you needed to leave now. Rushing through your apartment, you grabbed your small clutch, putting your wallet, phone, and lip gloss into it and heading for the door where you slipped into your heels, a simple black heel with red bottoms. They had been a gift from your parents upon finishing school and you saved them for special occasions.

Once your coat was on, you headed out of your apartment, locking the door and heading down the stairs and out the front door.

You made the short walk to the bus station, opting to take the bus since you were wearing heels. The restaurant was only down the road from your building but you’d rather not kill your feet and thankfully, the bus showed up only moments later.

You boarded, pulling out your transport card and scanning it before picking a seat behind the driver and keeping your eyes down. You didn’t often take the bus but when you did, you always felt like a million eyes were on you. Of course this wasn’t true, no one was even paying any attention to you.

You really needed to stop reading and listening to r/no sleep and r/lets not meet stories.

The ride to the restaurant was uneventful and as the bus pulled up to the nearest stop, you stood up, briefly adjusting the hem of your dress and thanking the driver before heading for the steps, descending them carefully until your feet met the pavement.

The stop wasn’t too far from the restaurant but you still needed to walk to make it there. You felt mildly subconscious about the people you passed, but you knew that was your anxiety speaking, assuming people were looking at you like you were some kind of main character in a story.

‘This isn’t wattpad, Y/N,’ you told yourself. ‘No one is even looking at you. Wait, no, that’s not true. That guy just looked.’

You offered a polite smile at the man you passed as he looked you up and down and you instantly regretted everything you’d ever done in your life. ‘Great, he probably thinks you’re some kind of streetwalker. Not that there’s anything wrong with prostitution—’

‘Oh shut up,’ another voice told you in the back of your mind.

You looked up as you approached the restaurant and opened the door, stepping into the warm, cozy setting, a low hum as people chatted at low volume over their meals, sharing wine, appetizers, and no doubt gossip. You looked around briefly, taking in the cream-colored wallpaper, dark warm wood floors, and round white cloth covered tables.

The hostess looked up at you, smiling. She was cute and short, her chocolate brown hair cut into a shoulder-length bob. She wore a black tee shirt with cap sleeves and black slacks. She smiled up at you as you pulled your phone out to check to see if Seonghwa had texted you.

“Can I help you?” the hostess asked, drawing your attention away from your screen that had no missed notifications.

“I’m supposed to be meeting someone,” you explained as you moved closer to the host stand to allow people to pass you.

“Did you have a reservation?” the hostess asked. You noticed a black rectangular name tag with gold lettering that read her name was Jess.

“Uh, I’m not sure, actually,” you said. “I have a date and he didn’t tell me if he made a reservation. Could I look around and see if he’s here already?”

Jess smiled and nodded, returning her attention to the guest book in front of her as your eyes swept the room. It wasn’t large but it was certainly cozy. Three clear glass vases of different heights sat in the middle of each table with floating tealights. The overhead lighting was recessed into the ceiling and dimmed to create a more warm and inviting atmosphere.

Your eyes swept over the patrons until you reached the bar and your heart skipped a beat.

‘He’s here. He’s actually here.’

You noticed Seonghwa sitting at the bar, his jacket slung over the back of his stool as he nursed a class of what you could assume was whiskey based on the color. You turned to Jess. “I found him,” you announced softly. “He’s at the bar.”

Jess looked up and followed your line of sight before smiling. “Ahh, him,” she said, glancing at the guest book. “Your table should be ready in a few minutes,” she added, looking back up at you.

“Thank you,” you said before making your way over to the bar, heart hammering in your chest with each stride.

Seonghwa had certainly dressed up, making you glad you had as well. Most of the patrons in the restaurant had dressed up and you felt like you didn’t stand out too much. You cleared your throat as you stopped beside Seonghwa and he looked up.

His face lit up as he took in your form. “You made it,” he said as you set your bag on the bar and climbed up into the stool next to him. “What’re you drinking?” he asked. You glanced at the bar and took notice of all the alcohol bottles.

“Oh it’s fine,” you finally said. “I don’t really drink,” you added.

Seonghwa smiled and nodded. “Well, if you’d like a non-alcoholic cocktail, order whatever you’d like,” he said as he lifted his glass, downing the rest of his drink. As he set the glass down and nodded to the bartender, you decided maybe one drink wouldn’t be so bad.

If anything, it might help you loosen up. Your shoulders felt tense and you knew it was because you were nervous. You were here, at this upscale Italian restaurant, with quite possibly the most attractive man you’d ever laid your eyes on. For some reason, he’d asked you out.

“Actually,” you started as the bartender set a new drink in front of your date. Seonghwa looked up to meet your gaze.

“Maybe a glass of wine,” you suggested. Seonghwa looked up at the bartender.

“What options do you have?” he asked.

“Something red and semi-sweet,” you added. The bartender nodded and moved to get your glass.

“You like semi-sweet reds?” Seonghwa asked, his lips pulled into an uneven smirk.

You nodded. “Yeah, I like a lot of dolce wines,” you admitted. “I don’t drink often, but when I do, it’s usually something like Roscato — rosso dolce,” you added. Seonghwa chuckled under his breath as he picked up his drink and took a sip. The bartender returned with your glass of wine and set it in front of you.

“Did I say something funny?” you asked, pulling the glass of wine closer. Seonghwa shook his head.

“No, not funny,” he explained. “It’s just a coincidence. A friend of mine asked me for the name of a wine we tried at a restaurant on my last trip to visit him and it was Roscato,” he continued, looking up to meet your gaze. “Rosso dolce,” he added.

Your lips parted and you let out a short, soft laugh. “Oh,” you replied as you raised your glass.

“That is a coincidence.”

An hour later, you were sitting at a small table in the corner by the last window, having shared some appetizer whose name you couldn’t pronounce and an empty bowl of spaghetti aglio e olio sitting before you as Seonghwa looked at the dessert menu. “Do you want to try the tiramisu?” Seonghwa asked as you took a sip of your third glass of wine.

“Do you want to share it?” you offered.

Seonghwa glanced up at you, an amused look in his eye, like some unspoken joke that only he seemed to be privy to. “Sure,” he finally answered, looking back down at the menu and allowing you to breathe easier.

The server finally returned and Seonghwa asked for a tiramisu to split as you finished your glass.

“Would you like more wine, miss?” the server asked and you contemplated for a moment and then nodded.

Before the server could walk away, Seonghwa stopped him. “Could you bring another glass and the rest of the bottle, please?” he asked. The server nodded and walked away to put in your order.

You stared at him as he took a sip of his water. “The whole bottle?” you asked, biting back the urge to laugh.

Seonghwa shrugged. “I’m sure there’s only a couple more glasses left in that bottle anyway,” he said, the tone of his voice teasing.

“So,” you started, catching Seonghwa’s attention. “Flowers?” you asked.

He smiled, chuckling light as he shook his head.

“Don’t tell me you think it’s weird,” he said softly and your smile faded.

“What?” you asked softly. “No. I think it’s great actually.”

Seonghwa looked up to meet your gaze. “It’s refreshing to meet a guy who’s into flowers. Not a lot of guys know the difference between the meaning of a red rose and a yellow one,” you added, smiling when Seonghwa stifled a laugh.

“Have you had a guy buy you yellow roses?” he asked incredulously. You nodded and he went into another fit of giggles. “Yellow roses… my god.”

When his laughter had subsided, he cleared his throat. “I’ve always loved flowers,” he explained.

“My parents loved gardening,” he continued. “It was a normal part of my childhood. I learned about caring for and growing flowers and the language of flowers at a young age. I’ve always been surrounded by gardening.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin in your palm as he spoke, a smile on your lips.

“When I was a teenager, I actually wanted to be an athlete,” he added, absentmindedly playing with the rim of his empty whiskey glass. “I fell in love with volleyball and wanted to pursue it in college. I actually even started pursuing volleyball at the collegiate level,” he continued.

A smile crossed his face as he reminisced. “I met some of my best friends playing volleyball,” he added.

His smile fell slightly, no doubt a painful memory coming to the forefront of his mind.

“And then my grandmother died.”

Your smile fell and you felt your heart tug. You reached across the table with your free hand, placing it over his. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. Seonghwa smiled, moving his hand under yours to take your hand in his.

“It’s been a long time,” he started. “But thank you.”

He held your hand as he continued his story.

“Her death made me rediscover a passion and appreciation for flowers,” he continued. “We had the most beautiful arrangements at her funeral. It made me think ‘I could do that. I could make floral arrangements.’ So, I did.”

“I went back to school, changed my major, and started taking flower arranging classes. I got my degree in business administration and started arranging flowers in my parents’ house until I had saved enough to purchase a store front.”

You watched him speak, a certain fondness in your heart as he talked so earnestly. “I also chose to move from the city and I found this place while looking, falling in love with the small town atmosphere. I love being able to walk to everything like I did in the city but there aren’t as many people here,” he added.

“I’ve been here and had my shop for four years now and I wouldn’t change a single thing about my life,” he finished, looking up at you with a smile on his face.

You opened your mouth to respond but the server returned at that moment, setting a single slice of tiramisu down before he set down another wine glass and the opened bottle of wine. “Anything else I can get you?” he asked, looking between the two of you as Seonghwa lifted the bottle.

“No, thank you,” Seonghwa answered, glancing at you as he started to pour some wine into the new glass with a wink.

The server took that as his cue to leave, allowing Seonghwa to sit up straight and pour wine into your glass. You thanked him and looked down at the dessert. “Have you ever had tiramisu?” Seonghwa asked as he picked up his fork. You shook your head.

“Well, I’ve had those store made ones, nothing like this though,” you replied, picking up your own dessert fork.

“Ladies first,” Seonghwa said, gesturing to the cake.

You glanced at it and back to him. “No, it’s okay, you can have the first bite,” you offered. Seonghwa chuckled lightly, taking his fork and slicing off a corner of the cake.

He brought it up and moved the fork towards you. “I insist,” he said softly. Your cheeks grew warm at the show of affection. You’d never been on a date where someone fed you and it felt exceedingly intimate.

And you liked it.

You parted your lips, allowing Seonghwa to guide the fork into your mouth. You’d had tiramisu before but this was unlike anything you’d had. It tasted like heaven. You swallowed, acutely aware of Seonghwa’s gaze on your face.

“It’s good,” you said softly.

Seonghwa’s eyes darted down to your lips before he reached up with his free hand, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “You had some cream,” he muttered, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking off the cream. The cream that had been on your lip.

You were suddenly overcome with the urge to smear cream all over your lips if it meant he would clean it off with his tongue.

‘Whoa,’ you thought to yourself as you took another bite of cake with your own fork. ‘Where did that come from?’

“Can I ask you something?” you said suddenly, looking up to meet Seonghwa’s curious gaze.

“Of course,” he said, licking his lips and taking a sip of his wine.

“Do you have a favorite flower?” you asked.

Seonghwa hesitated as he contemplated his answer before smiling, a soft chuckle escaping him.

“White lilies,” he answered. You felt your lips pull into a smile.

“White lilies?” you asked as you took another bite of the tiramisu. Seonghwa nodded, watching as you licked your lips. “Why?”

He set his fork down and leaned forward, resting his hand on his knuckles, fixing you with a knowing smirk only he seemed to be the only one in the know.

“I think white lilies are pretty. Lilies in general are very beautiful flowers. The splayed open petals, the way they curl back and the various colors. Tiger lilies are also very beautiful but there’s just something about the white ones,” he explained.

You took another bite. “What do white lilies mean,” you asked suddenly, looking up at him, “in the language of flowers?”

Seonghwa fixed you with a peculiar look. His expression hardened slightly and you feared for a moment that you’d upset him but as quickly as his expression changed, it shifted again.

“Purity and chastity,” Seonghwa answered. Your cheeks grew warm under the gaze he was giving you. Something had snapped in him and the look he was giving you now was sending chills up your spine, a surge of arousal pulsing through your body and you had to physically force yourself to look away.

‘Purity and chastity, huh?’

Between the two of you, the cake vanished in no time and you polished off the bottle of wine not long after with small talk about the food, the setting, and work.

“So,” you said as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, Seonghwa following. You tied your coat closed and looked down the street towards the bus stop. “Wait,” you said, checking the time. ‘Oh. Oh no.’

“Shit,” you hissed, feeling your heart sink.

“What?” Seonghwa asked.

“I missed the last bus,” you said, mentally facepalming yourself for being so absentminded.

“I could walk you,” Seonghwa offered.

You smiled up at him. “It’s not that,” you explained, glancing down at your feet.

Seonghwa followed your line of sight and noticed the shoes. “Oh,” he said softly before looking around.

“Well, we could walk,” he suggested as he slipped his hands into his coat pocket. “And if your feet start to hurt, I could always carry you,” he added with a smile. You let out a laugh and looked down the street towards your place.

“Okay,” you said softly. Seonghwa offered his arm, keeping his hand in his pocket and you took the offer, slipping your hand between his arm and side and started to walk with him.

“I didn’t say it sooner,” he started as you walked, the sounds behind you starting to die down as you walked away from the line of shops. “But you look gorgeous.”

Your cheeks started to heat up at his compliment and you nibbled on your bottom lip. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Silence fell over the two of you as you walked down the street, but it was a comfortable silence. You wondered what he was thinking and where things would go from here. Would he walk you to your door, kiss you goodnight? Would he want to come in? Did you want him to come in?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Seonghwa’s voice.

“How’re your feet doing?” he asked, his tone light.

You smiled, glancing up at him. “They’re okay,” you replied.

“Are you sure?” he asked, slowing to a stop.

“I could still carry you.”

You laughed softly, lightly hitting his arm and continued walking. “Actually,” you said, stopping and letting go of his arm to lean down and carefully remove your shoes. “I’ll just go barefoot.”

Seonghwa chuckled as you collected your shoes and stood upright. Seonghwa held out his hand and your heart skipped a beat. “Let me carry them for you,” he said. You were about to protest but he took them anyway before offering his arm again.

You thanked him softly and the two of you continued walking. “Better?” he asked, looking down at you. You nodded, the cool pavement felt good against your feet that were starting to ache and burn from wearing the pumps.

“Much,” you replied.

The walk didn’t take too long and soon, you were climbing the steps to your apartment building.

You turned to Seonghwa and smiled, taking back your shoes. “Thank you,” you said, carefully putting your shoes back on. Seonghwa smiled at you, hands tucked into his pockets. Silence filled the space between you before you spoke, apparently at the same time as Seonghwa.

“Do you want to come up?”

“I should probably get going.”

You felt your heart sink slightly. ‘Oh.’

“I’d love to,” Seonghwa started. “But I have a lot of stuff to get done tomorrow.”

You nodded, watching as his eyes dipped to look at your lips and back up. ‘Yes. Please just kiss me.’

You started to lean in only for Seonghwa to clear his throat. “I’ll wait for you to go in.”

‘...what?’

“O-okay,” you said softly, turning to put the code to your building in. Once the door was opened, you turned to Seonghwa. “Are you sure you don’t want to come up?” you asked softly.

Seonghwa smiled. “Another time,” he said, and it sounded like a promise.

That seemed to calm your nerves, but you were still put off that he didn’t even want to kiss you goodnight. This was the first time a man hadn’t tried to get himself invited to your apartment.

“Well,” you hesitated. “Goodnight?”

Seonghwa nodded, a smile still on his lips. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You made your way inside and up the steps to your door, unlocking and letting yourself in. As you removed your coat and shoes, you felt as if in a daze. You walked over to the kitchen to get a glass of water, chugging half of it as you stared at the wall before turning to face the rest of your apartment, holding the half empty glass to your chest as the realization dawned on you.

“What the fuck?”

Seonghwa arrived home and immediately hopped into the shower to relieve the erection he’d been sporting for the last two hours since you walked into the restaurant. He wondered if you knew the effect you had on him. Had you worn the white, form fitting dress on purpose?

If so, why? It was like you were unknowingly torturing him.

The way the dress hugged your curves, the hem reaching to the middle of your thighs. The sweetheart neckline accentuating your bust, showing off your collar. Multiple times Seonghwa had fought the urge to drag you to the bathroom and bend you over the sink, eager to stuff you full of his painfully hard cock.

He let out a hiss, dropping his head as his hand moved over his cock quickly, imagining you kneeling in front of him in that white dress. “Fuck,” he cursed, his orgasm washing over him under the hot stream of water as he imagined releasing on your chest instead of on the shower wall.

He was growing tired of this. Coming home almost every day after interacting with you to relieve himself in the shower just so he could go about the rest of his evening. He was going to have to do something about it eventually. Whether that be finally sleeping with you or finding release elsewhere, he couldn’t fully satisfy his urges with masturbation alone anymore.

He quickly cleaned off the shower wall and himself before drying off and getting ready for bed.

As he lay in the sheets, he cursed himself for not taking your offer to go up to your place but he knew if he had, it might have been too much for you and he refused to do anything that would frighten you. No, if he was going to sleep with you, he was going to need to take it slowly.

You deserved much more than that.

Sleep didn’t come easily to him that night and he continued to toss and turn throughout the night until he finally settled into restless slumber.

The next morning, he had a plethora of chores to get done, trying to keep himself occupied as he got through them one at a time.

Each time your face invaded his thoughts, he cursed himself for saying no but ultimately he knew it was the right thing to do. Regardless of how much he wanted you, he wouldn’t give that easily into his primal desires. No, he had to do this the right way.

And he would.

——————————————————

Work for Seonghwa had gotten hectic over the next few days, booking events and preparing for a large wedding he’d booked a few months prior. He’d spent a lot of free time in the shop, cultivating the white flowers he had in stock and had been growing specifically for the wedding.

It was tedious work that kept his hands busy but his mind still wandered.

He hadn’t been in the cafe as often as before and he felt bad about that, hoping you weren’t taking it as a sign he wasn’t interested. He always made sure to let you know his interest was still there when he did visit and he couldn’t help but enjoy the way your face lit up every time you found him standing at your counter.

The innocence in your expression was the reason he was distancing himself but at the same time, it was what drew him in. The need to corrupt you and mold you to his fantasies. He knew it was wrong. You weren’t some art medium to bend and shape. You were a person with your own feelings and interests. He knew that and that’s why he had to be good.

He had to behave.

For the fifth time that morning since visiting the cafe, he shoved thoughts of you aside as he worked, pruning and clipping. He couldn’t afford to be distracted with thoughts of you right now. He needed to fucking focus and he couldn’t do that when all he could think about was you on your back —

“Enough already!” he snapped, slamming down the shears in his hand against the work table. He stepped back, running his fingers through his hair and taking a few deep breaths.

Oh, you were going to be the death of him for sure.

It had been almost two weeks since your date with Seonghwa and the aftermath was nothing short of strange. Through text he seemed perfectly normal and when he came into the cafe, he was the same as he’d ever been, flirting with you every time.

At least up until a few days leading up to where you were now.

The last couple days, his texts fell off or were short and you feared the worst.

He’d taken you on a date and hated it.

You kept replaying the date in your mind and couldn’t exactly pinpoint any moment that might have put him off. Had you done something? Said something?

As you mulled over everything, it dawned on you that whatever it was, it had to have happened after you left the restaurant. He wouldn’t have fed you like that if he wasn’t into you, right? Like, not everyone did shit like that.

You thought maybe you taking your shoes off was what turned him off but then he offered to carry your shoes like some lead actor in a Korean drama. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t like you still? So from that to reaching your door, what could have happened?

You scribbled on a blank notepad as you thought over it again and again until your brain hurt and you slammed the pen on your desk. You covered your face with your hands, pressing your palms into your eyes until stars appeared behind your eyelids.

You groaned loudly and let out a frustrated growl.

“It just doesn’t make any sense!” you hissed, dropping your hands into your lap and looked down at your desk, blinking away the stars. You glanced at the clock beside you that read 12:01 am and decided to call it a night and pushed your chair back. “Fuck this,” you grumbled as you turned off the desk light and made your way to your bedroom.

You had work in the morning and you couldn’t spend any more time on this tonight.

Letting out a sigh, you looked across the small square at the flower shop. The open sign was off, indicating that the show wasn’t open which was unusual for Seonghwa. He rarely ever closed the shop and you feared that maybe he might be sick or even worse. Unfortunately, you were currently on the clock and couldn’t leave the shop. Not to mention it was busier than one person could handle so you really couldn’t leave, even for a short break to check the shop and see how Seonghwa was doing.

“Y/N?” a voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

You turned to your co-worker, an apologetic smile on your face. “Sorry, Addie, I’m really out of it today.” Addie gave you a small smile, knowing you weren’t normally like this and for you to be distracted, something really had to be wrong.

“You know,” she said softly, approaching you as she stopped sweeping. “If something is bothering you, you know you can talk to me.”

You offered as sincere a smile as you could muster. “Thanks, Addie,” you replied. “I’m okay though. Just lost in thought is all.”

You’d die before you told her what those thoughts were.

Sure, you were partially worried about Seonghwa but part of you was lingering on what could have happened the other day. The night after your date. The night you had expected him to come into your place but instead he left you standing on your front step with not even a kiss goodbye. You had spent part of the night wondering if you’d done something wrong. The other part of the night you had spent wondering what might have happened had Seonghwa kissed you and came in like you planned on inviting him to do.

To say you wanted him was a downright understatement. You needed him. There was just something so incredibly sexy about him. Something romantic as well, and as demonstrated by the date you shared. But under all of the sweetness, the sex appeal, there was something more dangerous and yet you couldn’t put your finger on it exactly. You just knew Seonghwa was everything and more you wanted in a man and you needed him in the worst way possible.

To distract yourself, you chose to take orders while Addie fulfilled them. Talking to the customers and ringing up their orders didn’t take much brain power but it still kept your mind from wandering, especially at work which was a dangerous combination when the object of your current fantasies was across the square in his closed shop, working diligently on a large order.

Seonghwa had been working tirelessly on this order for a wedding. It was coming up, he’d booked the order months ago as was common practice for weddings. He had centerpieces, bouquets, and other floral decorations and arrangements to make and it had been taking up most of his time since the date which allowed him the time to focus on something other than his intense primal desire to bend you over the counter of his shop and rail you into next week.

Ever since leaving you on the doorstep to your place without even a goodnight kiss, he’d been beating himself up but he knew that if he had kissed you, it would have led to more and while he did want that, god did he want that, he didn’t want to scare you away. He wanted — no — he needed you in the worst ways possible but he couldn’t scare you off like that. Not when he wanted to do things to you he only ever dreamt of and dream he did.

That night and almost every night since, he’s dreamt up different ways to take you. In his shop, in the cafe when all others have gone home for the night, in his bed, in his kitchen, on the counter, everywhere. All he could think of was you, you, you. In every position possible. On your back, on your knees, on your stomach. He wanted to corrupt you so badly that you’d never want to be with another person but him.

It invaded his every waking moment and sometimes even work couldn’t stop the fantasies.

He was a man obsessed and his obsession could scare you away and he didn’t want that. You deserved more. You deserved to be courted, properly, but goddamnit all if he didn’t want to say fuck the rules, and just do what he wanted but you were far too precious. Too pure. His white lily.

He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. Not to you.

He would do this the right way. He had to.

Seonghwa cursed as he poked his finger with yet another boutonniere pin, dropping the small bundle of flowers onto the work table and moving to clean the prick which started bleeding. These damn things would be the end of him. Why couldn’t he just use clips instead of fucking straight pins? ‘Outrageous.’

Once he cleaned the tip of his finger and it had stopped bleeding, he put a bandaid on it. He had twelve of these damn things to make. Who the hell has twelve groomsmen? At least the corsages were easy. Seonghwa picked up the boutonniere and started working again, cursing yet again when he stabbed himself. He groaned loudly, grateful he’d closed the shop for a few days to work on this order.

It was going to be a long night.

You called out a goodbye to your coworker as you headed out the front door. As you entered the mainly empty courtyard, you chanced a glance over at the floral shop. A single light from the back was flooding into the shop but the open sign remained flipped, as it had been all day.

‘So he is in there,’ you thought as you hiked the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder, trying not to wallow in the doubt and self-pity swirling in the pit of your stomach. Why hasn't he answered your texts? You were certain he’d seen them or at least you hoped he had. His read receipts were off so you couldn’t be exactly sure if he had seen them.

The walk home took longer than usual due to your preoccupied state. You’d almost run into someone at least three times, muttering an apology before hurrying on your way. Thankfully you made it home without further incident. Upon looking at the stoop to your front door, memories of that night came flooding back, when Seonghwa took you on what was probably the nicest date you’d ever been on only to leave you hanging at your front door.

As you climbed the steps, you fished out your keys and unlocked the door, letting yourself in. Stepping over the mail sitting on your welcome rug, you shut the door, locked it, and removed your shoes before bending down and grabbing the pile of envelopes.

You shuffled through them as you stood by the door before removing your coat, hanging it up and heading into the kitchen where you set your bag and keys on the counter and continued to look through your mail. Most of it was bills, advertisements, and a few card companies offering their services that you immediately tossed in the trash bin until a plain white envelope with a noticeable handwritten script caught your attention.

You set the rest of the mail down and looked over the one in your hands. Your name was written on the front but nothing else. No address and more importantly no return sender was listed. You hesitated, briefly remembering about mail bombs but snorted, amused at yourself for even considering a notion.

Why would someone send you a bomb?

You grabbed a knife from the nearby block and slit open the envelope, setting the knife on the counter and pulling out a few folded sheets of paper from inside. There weren't many pages, maybe just a few, but you opened them, reading the first line of the first page and felt your heart skip a beat.

Your breaths came out in ragged pants as you read through the letter, rereading a couple parts. Even though it was just words on paper, you could imagine the depth of his longing as he wrote the words. You let out a sigh of relief. He was just busy with work but he also didn’t want to scare you off, whatever that meant.

It made you wonder just what he could possibly mean.

‘I can be kind of intense at times.’ Intense how?

You carefully folded up the letter and placed the pages back into the envelope and set it down on the counter. “Saturday,” you whispered, checking the calendar hanging on the wall above your trash bin. That was only a few days away. Should you tell him you got his letter? Should you just show up?

You contemplated with yourself, the soft ticking of the clock on your wall punctuating the silence. You grabbed your bag, dug for your phone and pulled the device out, unlocking the screen and pulling up your message thread with Seonghwa.

You nibbled at your bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth and mulling over what to say before settling with a simple text.

You: I got your letter. I agree, I think we should talk face to face.

You pressed send before sending another one immediately after.

You: I’ll see you Saturday

You pressed send and set your phone down, breathing heavily as you stared at the screen.

The typing indicator appeared quickly and a reply came through just as fast. You peered down at the phone, reading the message Seonghwa had sent back.

Seonghwa: Saturday then 💮

When Seonghwa had dropped the unmarked letter through your mail slot the other morning, he never expected you to text him though he wasn’t complaining. At least he knew he hadn’t scared you off with the letter or with his words. He now only had to face you. He’d finished the last of the floral arrangements for the wedding last night and was currently in the van, making his way to the venue across town.

This wedding was a huge event. It was being held at an old rustic farm turned into an event venue. The roads were paved up until the turn onto the dirt road. Thankfully Seonghwa was only providing the flowers and not the containers. The venue had all of that.

Turning off the dirty farm road and onto the paved winding driveway made him breathe a little easier as he checked the time 11:41 am. He was well on time and would have from now until three to help set up and get all the arrangements in their designated vases and places.

Afterwards, he could focus on what he wanted to say to you on the drive back.

The farmhouse came into view and Seonghwa let out a small huff. It was much prettier in person than it had been on the website. The house itself was an off white color with dark midnight blue shutters. The front door was the same dark blue with a porch wrapping around the bottom level.

The entire house was three levels. All the windows looked like the original ones and it was clear to him that someone had spent a lot of time and money to renovate this place, putting a lot of care into it. He continued up the winding driveway, noticing the white barn standing some yards from the main house. There were white and silver balloons lining the last 20 or so feet of the drive.

Seonghwa carefully pulled up beside the house and parked the van before opening the door and getting out. He saw a lot of people working, carrying tables, chairs, bundles of fabric with silk bows. Some were dressed in uniforms and some in dresses and button downs with slacks. Seonghwa looked around for someone in charge before he saw a woman carrying a clipboard and directing three people carrying a large round table.

He approached her, calling out and catching her attention. She was a shorter woman, maybe around his mother’s age. She wore a nice light pink dress suit and wore black thin framed glasses. She eyed him up and down, lifting her glasses to get a better look.

“Can I help you?” she asked, polite but clearly in a hurry.

“I’m the florist,” Seonghwa announced. “I have the arrangements and just need to know where to go.

The look on her face shifted from annoyed to beaming in a split second and it took all of Seonghwa’s willpower not to burst into laughter.

“Oh perfect, you’re right on time!” she exclaimed. “We’re setting the ceremony up in the house.”

Seonghwa nodded and moved to follow her so she could show him exactly where everything went. She pointed at the planters marking the end of the aisle where the bride would enter.

“And then we have a fridge to keep the pieces for the reception fresh,” she added pointing to the kitchen area. “Do you need assistance?” she asked, turning to look up at him.

Seonghwa nodded. “It’s just me, so any help would be greatly appreciated.” The woman, who Seonghwa assumed to be the planner, called over to two people, beckoning them over.

“Would you please help this young man with the flowers,” she asked. The two nodded and followed Seonghwa out to the van.

“I have everything labeled,” Seonghwa explained as he fished his keys out. “Centerpieces, boutonnieres, corsages, bouquets, and the large pieces are for the planters inside,” he continued as they reached the back of the van and he unlocked the doors.

Unloading the flowers wasn’t an arduous task especially since Seonghwa took it upon himself to label everything. It was just a matter of moving them inside and then separating the floral arrangements. “Here is the bride’s bouquet,” he said, unwrapping the plastic from the stems and turning to the planner.

“I have twelve more,” he added, nodding towards the counter where twelve smaller bouquets lay alongside the corsages.

“And the boutonnieres?” the planner asked as she scribbled on her clipboard.

“All here,” Seonghwa said, gesturing to the counter. “Twelve boutonnieres with pins. Stabbed myself a fair bit making those,” he added with a chuckle. The woman did not laugh.

‘Tough crowd.’

Once everything was accounted for, Seonghwa helped set up the arrangements for the ceremony, placing the large bouquets in the planters, delivering the bouquets and corsages to the bridal suite, accepting the compliments from the bridesmaids and bride herself who was in stark contrast from the planner, extremely sweet and thankful. The last duty he had was to deliver the boutonnieres to the groomsmen and groom which was a far more lackluster affair than delivering to the bridal suite.

Once he was done, he started down the steps and over to the planner to secure the final payment. He’d agreed to take the payment in installments. First was the deposit followed by the first payment and now he needed the final payment. He cleared his throat as she finished speaking with one of the venue owners and she turned to him. “All flowers accounted for and delivered,” he said softly. The wedding planner stared at him blankly before he sighed.

“The final payment?” he said in a hushed voice. The planner’s eyes widened before she nodded.

“Right,” she said quietly. “Of course.”

She beckoned him to follow her and led him through the house and out one of the many side doors. Seonghwa followed her down the steps and over towards the barn where a man in a suit stood, talking to a few others.

The planner waved him over and discussed the topic of payment and the man nodded, pulling out his wallet. Seonghwa thanked him as the last installment was made and thanked the planner as they walked back towards the house. With his job done, Seonghwa got back in the van, taking a quick look behind to make sure nothing got left before backing up and making his way back to the dirt road.

He had about an hour until he got back to town and another 20 before he got to the shop. He checked the clock on the dash to see the time was now 2:30 pm. Time sure does fly.

Now it was just him and his thoughts until then.

You glanced at your watch. It was 4:07 pm and Seonghwa was nowhere to be found. It was only seven minutes past four so you weren’t going to just turn around and go home. You’d give him another few minutes before you called it.

He had said any time after four and it was after four. You pulled out your phone to see if he’d called and you maybe missed it but there was nothing. No calls, no texts except the one from the other day. The day you’d gotten the letter.

Seonghwa: Saturday then 💮

You sighed as a breeze blew through the square, pulling your coat tighter around your body. ‘Come on, Seonghwa,’ you thought as you looked around. You glanced down, inspecting your outfit as a leaf landed on your knee, clinging to the material of your stocking.

It had been unseasonably cold for spring and all leaves and flowers that have been trying to grow have had a hard time braving the elements as winter tried to hold on. New green leaves quickly withered and died, the temperatures not staying warm long enough to nurture the growth.

Cherry blossoms hadn’t even sprouted due to the cooler temperatures and rainy weather. Spring was always among your favorite times of the year but sometimes, it just didn’t feel like spring and felt more like autumn or even winter at times.

You were startled out of your thoughts by the sound of the door next to where you were sitting opened, the bell ringing and making you jump and turn to find Seonghwa looking at you with as much surprise as you felt. You had expected him to come to the front door, not from inside the store.

“Sorry,” he said immediately as you stood up, smoothing down your skirt. “Got held up by a sheep jam of all things,” he added with a smirk before noticing your cold-tinged face, his smile immediately falling. “Oh, have you been waiting long?”

You shook your head. “No,” you said breathlessly.

‘Liar. It’s been almost 30 minutes.’

Seonghwa checked his watch and then looked up and smiled at you.

“Here,” he said softly, gesturing for you to enter.

You crossed the threshold, the warmth of the shop offering you sanctuary from the plummeting temperatures. Seonghwa shut the door, turning the lock in place before turning to look at you. “So you, uh, got my letter?” he asked as he led the way through the shop.

“Yeah,” you murmured, following him into the backroom of the shop. You’d never seen this part of his shop before and it was like something out of a romance movie.

The room was rectangular with a short wall against the shop. The walls were lined with tiered planter boxes, built into the wooden wall, an array of flowers growing in each box, various colors and species. The back wall faced the forested area behind the shops. Glass windows dominated the wall allowing in as much natural light as possible.

In the middle of the room stood a butcher block work table with various tools for cutting, pruning, gardening, and what you assumed was flower arranging. The wall that the room shared with the main shop room had built-in-storage drawers under another flat wooden surface with various fertilizers, soil bags, and gardening solutions.

Hanging up next to the work table by the doorway was a garden hose, coiled and hanging neatly on its hanger, one end connected to a spigot and the other with a hose attachment. Seonghwa walked over to the work table in the center of the room and started cleaning up.

“I had some last minute adjustments to make before I delivered the order for the wedding,” he explained as he used a small hand brush to sweep any dirt, petals, and other debris off the table and onto the floor.

“I didn’t have a chance to clean up before I left, so I just want to get this swept up and then we can talk, if that’s okay?” he asked, glancing up at you as you removed your coat and hung it along with your bag up by the door next to his.

“I don’t mind,” you said as you grabbed a broom and walked over. “As long as you let me help you.”

Seonghwa gave you a soft smile and nodded, silently thanking you as you started to sweep up, collecting all the dirt, petals, leaves, and other debris from around the room while he gathered his tools, cleaned them and put them away. You opened the back door and brushed all the debris out the back. It was all dirt, petals, leaves, and twigs, so it should go back to nature, right?

When you shut the door, Seonghwa was wiping down the wooden work table surface. You returned the broom back to its spot by the door and turned to Seonghwa, your hand lingering on the mop. “Do you need to mop as well?” Seonghwa looked up at you and shook his head.

“No,” he answered. “I do all my deep cleaning on Mondays,” he explained as he carried the rag over to a small hamper and dropped it in.

“So,” he said, turning to you. “I guess we should talk.”

You nodded, watching as he washed his hands at the small sink next to the built-in work table.

“You said in your letter,” you started, reaching into your bag and pulling out the envelope, not noticing the look of surprise on Seonghwa’s face.

“You brought it with you?” he asked and you looked up as you pulled the pages out.

“I wanted to reference it directly instead of relying on my memory,” you answered as you opened the letter and cleared your throat.

“That you wanted to clear up your emotions,” you started, glancing at the first page and then back up at Seonghwa as he turned to lean against the work table, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yet, it doesn’t really feel like it’s cleared up at all,” you said, looking back down.

“Isn’t it?” Seonghwa asked, drawing your attention back to him. “I think I made them perfectly clear, baeknari,” he said softly, using the nickname he’d taken to calling you. Glancing down quickly, you re-read through part of the first page.

“I said that I had a great time with you,” Seonghwa started when you didn’t speak again. “I also recall stating that I like you far more than you seem to think,” he added with a smirk. You swallowed thickly. “And I’m pretty sure I also said that I think you underestimate my attraction to you,” he continued.

You glanced up at him. “What do you mean by that?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Seonghwa merely smiled.

“Just that. It’s more than a simple attraction, my dear,” he answered. “I’m not just attracted to you.” Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. ‘More than attraction?’

“You also said you think about me more than any man would normally admit,” you said, trying to avoid the look Seonghwa was giving you. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, goosebumps erupting over your skin under your sweater despite the warmth of the greenhouse.

“I do,” Seonghwa admitted. You glanced up at him.

“How so?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Seonghwa let out a chuckle, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I think about you almost all the time,” he admitted, shocking you. “I think about you when I wake up. I think about you when I come to work and I see the cafe. Every time I look out the shop window and see that cafe, I think about you,” he continued.

“I think about you when I go home. I think about you when I go to bed. You occupy every thought.”

Your heart had started to race, beating erratically in your chest as he spoke.

“I think about you when I eat breakfast. And lunch. And dinner,” he continued, looking up to meet your eyes. His heated gaze sent a surge of arousal through your body. It was such a dark look. Like prey caught in the gaze of a predator. It was almost primal.

“I think about you when I’m driving; when I’m working…” he trailed off, keeping your gaze locked in his.

“When I shower.”

That seemed to do it, a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins, arousal pooling in your panties.

“Wh-when you shower?” you asked, voice cracking slightly. Seonghwa nodded wordlessly.

“I told you,” he started. “I think about you all the time. More than could be considered normal. You shouldn’t occupy my every waking thought and yet you do. Maybe I’m obsessed, but it’s not normal to think about someone as much as I think about you.”

“Obsessed?” you whispered, drawing his attention.

“Don’t worry,” he said, shifting his weight again, moving his hands to rest against the edge of the counter. “I know what’s acceptable and what’s not. And I would never do anything to purposely make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe.”

You glanced down at the letter in your hand, scanning the words on the sheet before looking back up.

“You said you can’t write about the things you think about,” you started. Seonghwa clicked his tongue, standing up and walking over to take the sheet.

“No,” he said softly. “I corrected myself and said I shouldn’t write them,” he explained.

“I can definitely write them down,” he continued, handing the sheet back to you. He moved back over to the work table, putting space between the two of you.

“But you’d prefer to say them in person?” you added, looking back up at him. Seonghwa nodded.

“I do want to say them. I want to tell you everything I think of and everything I want to do to you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, making a small sound which Seonghwa noticed. You busied yourself with his letter, changing the page to scan the next sheet. “You said you didn’t kiss me because if you had, then you ‘wouldn’t have been able to stop’,” you read.

“Wouldn’t have been able to stop what?”

Seonghwa tilted his head, fixing you with a peculiar look. “Myself, angel. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself,” he answered.

“From what?” you whispered, feeling heat rising to your cheeks. You weren’t dumb. You had an idea of what Seonghwa meant but you wanted to hear him say it.

“From following you into your house and doing everything I’ve imagined doing,” he replied, that dark look in his eyes back as he spoke.

“And what do you imagine doing to me?” you asked softly. Seonghwa’s lips twitched, fighting a smirk before he cleared his throat.

“Would you like me to tell you,” he asked, looking down at the table and back. “Or would you like me to show you?”

You were at a crossroads. If you accepted his offer, it would probably lead to sex which you weren’t opposed to. If you declined, where would that lead? Would you leave and never speak to him again?

You knew you wanted Seonghwa. He was kind, passionate, ambitious, generous, intelligent, witty, and insanely attractive. You wanted him so bad. So who were you to deny yourself?

Your eyes scanned the letter one last time before folding it, placing the sheets back in the envelope and sliding the letter back into your purse before crossing the room, sliding between Seonghwa and the work table before looking up to meet his gaze.

“You said you’re afraid of scaring me off,” you started. “Is that right?”

Seonghwa nodded, you noticed how he swallowed. “Why would I be scared?” you asked softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. Seonghwa leaned into your touch, lips parting as a soft sigh escaped him. Your thumb moved, brushing over his bottom lip.

“Because,” he started, his breath hot against your skin. “I can be kind of—”

“Intense?” you asked, smiling when he nodded. “What makes you think that would scare me?”

Without warning, Seonghwa’s hands found purchase on your hips, pushing you against the edge of the work table. “I’m not a very sweet or soft lover,” he murmured against your hand. “I’m rough, hard,” he continued, one hand grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm. “Unforgiving.”

You brought your free hand up to run your fingers through his hair before grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging sharply. “And who said I am?” you asked softly, enjoying the way he moaned against your hand. He let go of your wrist, fingers skimming your neck lightly.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Kitten,” he murmured, eyes scanning up to meet your gaze. “Keep this up and I’ll take you right here.”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, forcing his hand against your throat. “Do it, then,” you whispered. Seonghwa hesitated, eyes searching your face. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice quiet but clear.

“I said do it,” you repeated. “Take me, Seonghwa. I’m yours. I always was.”

The next moment, Seonghwa’s lips crashed against yours, one hand firmly on your hip, the other moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips parted, tongue quickly slipping into your mouth, moving against yours. You whimpered against his lips, his mouth swallowing it eagerly.

“God I would love to take you home,” Seonghwa murmured against your lips, hand still on the back of your neck, holding you in place. “Lay you down in my bed and take my time with you like you deserve.”

You felt his other hand slide down your hip to your thigh. “So why don’t you?” you asked, hands moving up his chest to hold onto his shoulders.

“Because,” he started, gripping your thigh and hiking your knee up to his waist. He guided you to lay back on the work table.

“I’m an impatient man,” he continued, his hand sliding down the outside of your thigh to your ass. “And I told you I’m a rough, unforgiving lover.”

You felt him roll his hips into yours grinding his erection into your soaked panties, giving you some slight friction against your aching clit. “And you told me to take you right here,” he added, slowly lowering your head to the work table, his hand moving around to ghost over your throat before sliding down your chest, not giving it much attention as he continued to move it lower until he reached the hem of your sweater.

“As cute as this is,” he murmured, pulling at your top. “It needs to come off.”

You sat up, grabbing the hem of your sweater and pulling it up over your head and dropping it on the table. Underneath you wore a simple ribbed white turtleneck top with short sleeves tucked into your skirt. Seonghwa grabbed at your shirt, leaning over to capture your lips in a heated kiss.

He pushed it up past your chest, hands cupping your breasts firmly but gently. “Take it off,” he ordered. You raised yourself up from the surface of the table to pull the shirt off, letting it fall wherever you dropped it. You were left in your skirt and a lacy lavender bralette with straps crossing over your chest.

Seonghwa let out a sigh as he took in your form, eyes shining with lust and another emotion you couldn’t exactly place. You suddenly felt self conscious under his gaze and moved your hands to cover yourself but he stopped you, grabbing your wrists and pinning your hands down against the wood.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled. “Don’t you cover yourself. I’ve wondered for so long what kind of lingerie you wear and to see it now? Don’t you dare hide it from me.” He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss against your lips. You sighed out as he left a trail of kisses from your lips across your cheek and down the side of your neck, stopping to nip at the skin above your pulse point.

You let out a moan as his teeth grazed your skin. Even if a mark did or didn’t form, you’d still know he was there. Seonghwa continued down your neck, leaving love bites in his wake until he reached your chest. “I’d love to sit here and admire you all night in this,” he said softly, fingers skimming the delicate lace of your bralette. “But I really want to take it off,” he continued.

You ran your fingers through his hair as he nuzzled your sternum, hands sliding down to your waist. “Take it off,” you whispered. Seonghwa lifted his head to meet your gaze. He’d barely done anything to you but he looked like he was intoxicated. Drunk off touching you.

“You want me to do that, blossom?” he asked softly. “You want me to undress you?”

You nodded shyly, heat rising to your cheeks as he reached up to stroke your cheek. His thumb brushed over your lips like yours had earlier and without prompting, you parted your lips, taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking. Seonghwa let out a groan, his free hand fumbling with the clasp on the front of your bralette and managing to undo it.

Keeping his thumb in your mouth, he pulled you to sit up, pushing the bralette off you and letting it fall onto the wooden surface of the table. You swirled your tongue around his thumb and Seonghwa pulled his hand back before cupping your jaw. “Wanna show me what else you can do with that mouth, sweetheart?” You nodded wordlessly as he helped you down from the table.

“On your knees then, Kitten.”

You slowly lowered yourself down, keeping your eyes on his face. Seonghwa ran his fingers through his hair before cupping your chin. “Have you ever done this before?”

You nodded slowly. “Once,” you answered. “I’ll do my best though.” Seonghwa let out a groan before squeezing your chin gently.

“Open your mouth, blossom,” he ordered, moving his hands to undo his belt and pants as you kneeled there, sitting on your heels. “Tongue out,” he ordered as he moved slowly, sliding his hand into his underwear where your eyes couldn’t see. His hand moved inside his boxers at the sight of you on your knees for him.

“Come here,” he said breathlessly. You raised yourself up off your heels, moving your hands up his thighs. Seonghwa pushed his pants and underwear down just enough to pull his cock free, allowing you to see it. It was larger than you expected but it didn’t look like it would hurt to take.

The head was bulbous, tip slightly red with a bead of precum.

“Open your mouth, baby,” Seonghwa said, drawing your attention away from his cock. You opened your mouth again. “Tongue,” he added and you obliged, letting your tongue fall from your mouth to make space. “Tap my thigh once for yes and twice if it’s too much or you want to stop, okay?” he asked softly. You nodded and waited as he guided the head to your mouth, letting it rest against your tongue.

It was salty, no doubt from the precum, as he rubbed the head against your tongue before pushing further into your mouth, inhaling sharply as his cock entered your mouth, your tongue brushing against the underside. “Breathe through your nose,” he instructed. You did as he said and once you’d taken a deep breath, Seonghwa pushed the rest of his cock in until it reached the back of your mouth, stopping just before it entered your throat.

“I’m gonna guide your head, okay?” Seonghwa asked. You tapped his thigh to let him know you were fine. Seonghwa guided your head, making you pull back before pulling you forward. He set a steady pace, making sure to stop before you gagged.

After a couple moments, you didn’t need his guidance and started moving on your own, keeping your hands on his thighs, nails raking over the material of his pants. “That’s it, kitten. Keep going,” he muttered, gently stroking your hair. “Just like that.”

You moaned, taking him as far into your mouth as you could. You noticed how his hips started to follow your mouth, shallowly thrusting. “Hold still,” he instructed, placing his hand on the back of your head. He gave you a tentative thrust, gauging your gag reflex. He gave you another, and then another, setting a steady pace of shallow thrusts.

The tip of his cock hit the back of your mouth with a lewd wet sound almost like a gag but you didn’t gag. He was testing your limits and it seemed he could hit the back of your mouth without a reaction. You closed your eyes, breathing through your nose as best as you could with each thrust into your mouth. Seonghwa let out a strained grunt and thrust, hard, forcing his cock into your throat briefly making you gag and your body react violently.

He pulled back, as you gasped, coughing. Your cheeks were stained with tears, drool running down your chin and onto your chest. In every sense of the word, you were a mess but to Seonghwa you were a vision. He carefully pulled you to your feet, guiding you back onto the table before flipping your skirt up, exposing your soiled underwear. He tsked softly, looking up at you.

“How long have you been this wet, sweetheart?” he asked, meeting your gaze.

“A while,” you whispered. Seonghwa sighed and quickly removed your panties, stuffing them into his pocket as he pulled his underwear up to cover his cock.

“You were so good for me,” he murmured, parting your thighs to look down at your sex, arousal smeared all over your lips.

“Now I’ll be good for you,” he added. You propped yourself up to watch as he lowered his head, pressing wet, open mouth kisses along the inside of your thigh, stopping to sink his teeth into your soft skin. You let out a breathy whine as he skipped over your core, kissing up the inside of your other thigh and biting into your skin, leaving small imprints that would eventually fade.

“Give me your hand, blossom,” he said, holding his hand out, palm up. You placed your hand in his and watched curiously as he guided your hand to his head. “You might want to hold on,” he said with a smirk before dipping his head, spreading your thighs and licking slowly up your slit, pressing his tongue past your folds and finding your clit with relative ease.

Your fingers immediately curled into his hair as you felt some mild relief but as soon as Seonghwa got a taste, it was like a switch was flipped. His fingers dug into your thighs, keeping them parted as he lapped at your cunt greedily, like it was the last meal he’d ever have.

The tip of his tongue slipped into your entrance briefly before gliding back up to tease your clit. You raised your head, propping yourself up on one elbow, keeping a firm grip on his hair and let out a moan when you met his gaze. He flattened his tongue, moving his head from side to side slowly, keeping his eyes on you as he did.

Your thighs tried to close but he held them open with a vice like grip. You could feel your orgasm building, bubbling up like carbonation in a bottle of soda that had been shaken up. But before it could explode, Seonghwa pulled back, wiping his lips and chin with the back of his hand.

“Sorry, Kitten,” he breathed, leaning over your body, leaving wet kisses up your stomach, stopping at your chest to brush his lips over one of your nipples before parting his lips and swirling his tongue around it. He sucked lightly, letting it fall from his mouth before continuing, kissing up your chest and your neck. “When you cum for me for the first time, it’s going to be around my cock,” he whispered in your ear, his hot breath making your shiver.

You heard him messing with his pants, pushing them back down and pulling his cock free.

“I don’t have any condoms here,” he muttered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I don’t normally fuck pretty little baristas in the backroom of my shop,” he added, a smirk in his tone.

“So I’m special?” you whispered, breathlessly as he pressed the head of his cock against your leaking entrance.

“Oh baby, you’re so much more than just special,” he murmured as he rutted against you.

“Such a pretty little thing. So sweet, and not nearly as innocent as I thought,” he added as the underside of his cock rubbed against your clit. “Will you let me fuck you raw, sweetheart? Or are you too innocent for that? Have you ever been fucked raw?”

You shook your head. “No, never,” you answered. “Never been fucked raw.”

Seonghwa chuckled, his hot breath tickling your neck. “So I’m the first? You have no idea how happy that makes me. You’ll let me be the first, right? You’ll let me fuck you raw, won’t you?”

You nodded fervently, the tip of his cock bumping your clit and making you gasp. “Yes, Seonghwa, please. Take me, please. Fuck me please, please,” you pleaded. Seonghwa let out a groan as he slowed his pace, guiding the head of his cock to your hole and pushing it in slowly.

“Oh you really want this,” he commented, watching his cock disappear inside you. “Sucked my cock in so hungrily. What a greedy little cunt you have,” he murmured, sheathing himself in one fluid motion and rocking your body against the wooden table.

“Oh fuck, Hwa!” you gasped, one hand gripping the table edge above your head, the other grabbing his shoulder. You were half naked under him and other than his pants being undone and pushed halfway down his thighs, Seonghwa was still fully dressed.

Seonghwa cupped your jaw, squishing your cheeks slightly. “What a dirty fucking mouth you have,” he growled, his hips moving, pulling back and snapping forward, thrusting into you harshly. “Open your mouth, Kitten,” you parted your lips, obeying him. Seonghwa stilled his hips for just a moment, spitting into your mouth before resuming his punishing pace.

The table creaked under you with each thrust, the sound of his skin hitting yours filling the room with the sounds of his cock plunging in and out of your wet hole. Heat spread from your cheeks to your neck and chest as your orgasm approached rapidly.

“Are you gonna cum already, Blossom? I’ve barely even fucked you properly,” he chuckled, his tone mocking instead of sweet which you should have expected. He said he was an unforgiving lover.

You whimpered, hand moving up into his hair and gripping it tightly. “Pull my hair again baby and I’ll teach you what happens when you can’t behave,” he growled, one hand moving to your throat and pinning you down against the table.

“What will you do?” you challenged.

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes, hips snapping against you and rocking the whole table. “Turn you over and pin you down, fuck you until you full of nothing but my cum. Would you like that, petal? You want to be fucked full of my cum until it drips down your legs like a dirty little cumslut?”

You moaned, walls fluttering around his cock as your orgasm drew nearer. “Oh, that does it for you, does it? Sweet little Y/N, my own little lily, likes being called a cumslut?” Seonghwa teased, making you moan again as his grip on your throat tightened, restricting the flow of your blood but not your oxygen.

“Likes being choked, likes it when I spit into her mouth, likes being fucked like a bitch in heat in the backroom of my flower shop, you really aren’t as innocent as you seem,” he muttered, his hips stuttering momentarily.

“Are you like this with all the guys?” he asked, tightening his grip on your throat. You whimpered, thighs trying to close as his free hand moved, thumb brushing over your clit to send you hurtling towards the edge. “Do you let all the guys have you like this?”

You shook your head, gripping his wrist as the corners of your eyes burned with unshed tears. It felt so fucking good but you were teetering on the edge, unable to full cum as his thumb stopped rubbing your clit and he alternated to giving you shallow thrusts that had you standing on the precipice.

“No!” you gasped. “No one else,” you added. “Only you. No one else has ever filled me up. You’re the first. No one else can. I’m yours!” Your words had the intended effect of Seonghwa and he resumed ramming into you, resting his forehead against yours as he muttered he was close.

“Where do you want it?” he asked quickly, hips faltering slightly. “Inside me, Seonghwa, please. Cum inside me,” you gasped. Seonghwa growled, letting go of your throat in favor of cradling your head as his thrusts grew more erratic, sloppier, his moans coming out in pitched whines until he gave you one final thrust, tipping you over the edge, your thighs shaking as your walls clenched around his cock. You clawed at his shirt, whimpering as he fucked his cum into you weakly until his hips stilled, face buried in the crook of your neck as you both basked in the aftermath of your highs.

You weren’t sure how long it took but as you came down, the realization that you were half naked on Seonghwa’s work table in the backroom of his floral shop dawned on you and you cleared your throat, licking your dry lips, and tried to get his attention.

“Seonghwa,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. He hummed in response, pressing a few short kisses to your neck. “I’m feeling kind of exposed here,” you added.

Seonghwa lifted his head and let out a huff of air before pushing himself up. His hair was a mess, lips red and swollen from your kisses, his cheeks were pink from exertion. “Shit, let me uh…” he trailed off as he looked around. “Stay right there.”

He carefully pulled his cock free, wincing slightly as he tucked himself back in his pants and rushed over to the drawers on the inside wall. He looked through them quickly and returned with a clean cloth and carefully wiped your skin, the insides of your thighs, your sex and the edge of the table under you.

He dashed around, collecting your clothing and shook them before helping you back into your bralette, top and sweater. “Where are my panties?” you asked, looking around as Seonghwa zipped and buttoned his pants. “Oh,” he said softly, reaching into his pocket and pulling your panties out, unwading them and helping you into them.

“Just until we get you home,” he added as he redid his belt and looked up at you. He reached up, brushing your bottom lip. “Or we can go back to mine,” he offered. You smiled as he leaned in, taking your face in his hands and kissing you sweetly, in high contrast from the pounding he just gave you.

“We can also just go back to mine. It’s closer, isn’t it?” you muttered against his lips, grabbing him by the sweater.

Seonghwa smiled into the kiss before pulling back. “Is this your way of getting me into your bed, miss?” he asked softly, thumbs grazing over your cheeks.

“Mmm,” you hummed. “Maybe.”

Seonghwa chuckled, kissing your cheeky grin. “Dare I say, it’s working,” he commented, giving you another kiss before pulling away, taking your hand and leading you away from the table and towards the door into the shop. You stopped to grab your things and followed Seonghwa to the front door where he helped you with your coat before unlocking the door and opening it.

“After you, ma’am,” he said and you gently pushed his chest.

“Ugh, don’t call me ma’am,” you groaned as you stepped out into the night air.

Seonghwa followed behind, shutting the door and locking it. “Oh?” he asked, pocketing his keys and leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek and then your lips. “What would you like me to call you, then?” he asked, voice muffled by your lips.

“I like Blossom,” you said softly after a moment of contemplation.

“Or Petal,” you added. Seonghwa smiled, cupping your cheek and pulling you into yet another kiss.

“Blossom it is,” he replied before pulling away and offering his arm for you to take. You did so and followed his lead. “So your place?” he asked, looking at you as you walked.

You nodded, smiling up at him. “I can get clean underwear,” you said with a nod.

“Or you can just not wear clothes,” Seonghwa said as you walked, making you giggle.

“Well there’s another reason I’d like to go back to my place,” you added.

“Oh?” Seonghwa asked, looking at you as you pulled him to a stop and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“I have spreader bars at my place.”

You giggled at the surprised look on his face before letting go of his arm and continuing forward. Seonghwa quickly caught up to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Spreader bars? As in multiple?” he hissed. “Seriously? Next you’ll tell me you have an assortment of fantasy dildos.”

You giggled again, harder and Seonghwa looked at you incredulously.

“Guess I’m not as innocent as you thought,” you whispered.

“No,” he replied, a smirk forming on his face. “No, I guess not.”

You checked the label on the cup and read the name out loud, smiling as the customer came to get their order. The rush had just ended, the last of your customers trickling out of the door or finding empty seats to sit down and do their work or study.

“I’m gonna take my break, Y/N,” Addie said as you wiped down your counter.

“Okay,” you called back.

“Lin can fill in for me.” You smiled as Lin turned to look at you before they looked past you with a look of mild surprise and nodded. You turned around expecting to see a customer but were instead greeted with a singular white lily.

A smile spread across your face as you looked past the petals and saw the face of your boyfriend, the sweet, albeit kinky and sex-crazed, florist who worked across the square. “To what occasion do I owe this beautiful gift?” you asked, taking the flower from him and bringing it to your face to smell the scent.

“Occasion?” Seonghwa asked, leaning against the counter. “Do I need an occasion to bring my beautiful girlfriend a flower?” he asked, reaching across the counter to gently take your chin in his hand and caress your cheek with his thumb.

“Girlfriend?” a voice asked, making you both turn to find Addie looking from the back room in shock.

Seonghwa chuckled softly and looked back at you. “What time do you get off?” he asked as you admired the flower.

“In about an hour,” you hummed, looking up at him.

“Perfect, cause see I know this really great place. The wine is amazing and the food is to die for,” he mused, taking one of your hands.

“No flirting with the employees!” Addie said though you could tell by the tone in her voice she wasn’t serious.

“So how about it?” Seonghwa asked. “I’ll pick you up here when you get off, we can stop by your place and you can change and then we’ll go?”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Where is this place? Is it new?” you asked. You’d been to most of the restaurants in town and if something new had popped up, you were sure word would have spread. Seonghwa fought the urge to smile, cupping your cheek again.

“You could say that,” he answered. “I’ll see you in an hour,” he added, standing up straight.

“Wait,” you called, making him stop by the door but also making a few of the patrons look up. Seonghwa calmly walked back over. “Where is this place?” you asked softly, leaning in, ignoring the looks of both your coworkers and the customers alike.

“You’ll like it,” Seonghwa said playfully. “I know the owner.”

You raised an eyebrow at this. “Why won’t you just tell me where it is?”

Seonghwa chuckled, leaning across the counter and catching you in a surprise kiss. “It’s my place,” he finally said with a laugh and stood up straight, drumming quickly on the counter before walking towards the door. “One hour,” he called and stepped out the door, letting it shut behind him.

“Since when are you seeing the florist?” Lin whispered, coming over to get a look at the lily in your hands. “Since last week,” you murmured, remembering the intense sex you had with said florist in his shop and then again the next morning and night at your place.

“You’re hiding something,” Addie said suddenly, startling you with her close proximity.

“What are you hiding?” You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said, turning away and looking out the cafe window to the floral shop across the square where Seonghwa was unlocking the door and entering the shop, shutting the door behind him.

“Nothing at all.”

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writers-potion · 6 months ago

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Let's Talk About Magic Systems.

There are two broad ways you can establish magic in your story world - work with existing concepts, or adapting it for something new.

Pick a System

High Magic vs. Low Magic

This distinction existes mostly in the western wrld from the Middle Ages onwards. In non-western cultures, this distinct often doesn't exist.

High magic requires magicians to study from books, ingredients are expensive and instruments elaborate and hard to get. The typical practioner of High Magic is of the upper class, highly educated, and rich. They serve in King's courts and have high social standing thanks to their knowledge.

Among the lower classes and women, Low Magic is ore common. It is taught orally and doesn't require reading skills and uses everyday objects and ingredients.

Black vs. White Magic

"White" magic is often associated with good, and "Black" with the evil. However, what really matters is the magicians intension, not the magic system that they work with.

The term "black magic" is often associated with working with the dead. It can also be used by an individual/group who just wants to appear more menacing.

Ceremonial Magic

This kind of magic involves lots of ritual, recitation and prayer, often in ancient langauges such as Latin, Aramaic and Sanskrit.

Most of the time, it's High Magic and practiced by religious figures.

The typical practioner is educated, has great confidence and a good memory.

Natural Magic

It involves ingredients from nature, such as herbs and water.

It may be practiced outdoor, in a kitchen, or in a laboratory.

The rituals are simple and short, and the practioner will watch out for the turning of seasons, phases of the moon, etc.

Religious Magic

This is a diety working through a magician. The magician prays and asks her god to work the miracle.

Most religions have their own form of magic, and the kind of miracles that the magicians can bring can be limited.

Wiccan Witchcraft and Voodoo are largely religious magic.

The typical practioner would be spiritual and devout, often suspicious of other religions.

Alchemy

Alchemy is both High and Low Magic, and it can incorporate religious, spiritual, philosophical and mythological elements.

In a modern setting, alchemy can also be portrayed as "science gone too far".

The typical practioner would be patient, methodious, educated and driven. The tools includes laboratory equipment, astronomical charts, writing materials, and an unsuspecting roommate(?) for testing.

Traditional Witchcraft

Traditional Witchcraft is a form of Low Magic. In early historic periods, the witch played an important role in village life, often old women who owned apothecaries and helped out other villagers.

The typical practioner would be female, uneducated, illiterate, practical, resourceful and poor. She will have a good memory and well-developed senses.

Tools used would be simple household implements - a cauldron, a broom, knife, etc. that can evade the Inquisitor's suspicions.

Wiccan Witchcraft

If you write contemporary fiction, this is the system your character is most likely to use. It's modern witchcraft, based on the religion of Wicca.

Wiccan witchcraft mostly developed in the second half of the twentieth centruy. It is a form of bothe Natural Magic and Religious Magic.

Based on nature worship and the polarity between male and female, the magician often begins a Wiccan ritual with an invocation to a God/Godess. The Lady (Godess) is depicted as having three aspects: Maiden, Mother and Brone. The Lord (God) may be depicted with horns.

The focus of Wiccan magic is often on healing, with an emphasis of ethical consequences of what is being performed.

It is often practiced outdoors, sometimes naked (which they call 'skyclad'). Wiccan witchcraft uses the phases of the moon to amplify its effects.

Wiccan like to gather in groups called 'covens' or to meet once a month or for major festivals. The coven leader may be called 'high piestess/priest'.

Typical tools include a chalice, a knife (called 'athame'), a wand, candles, herbs, crystals, and essential oils.

Necromancy

The magician summons a dead person, either ghost or spirit, sometimes bodily. The dead are enlisted to grant the magicians with favors or are questioned for information.

It may be related to Shamanism, as well as to some forms of psychic work such as channelling and Spiritualist seances.

The typical practitioner is psychally gisted, strong-willed and courageous.

Shamnism

Shamnism is a Low Magic system. The shaman intercedes between the human and spirit world by communicating with spirits, often to obtain information or provide healing.

Shamans may travel to the spirit world to seek answered, with some level of danger. They use drums, chanting, dancing and drugs to alter their consciousness and communicate with spirits.

Practicing shamans often work alone, but they choose a successor to train. The apprentice is supposed to accept the calling.

The typical shaman is musical, sensitive with a strong sense of rhythm and the psychic.

Tools include drums, bells, a costume, herbs, bones, smoke and mind-altering drugs.

Ancient Egyptian Magic

Ancient Eyptian Magic ovelaps with Religious magic, medicine and with psychic work. The deities most frequently evoked are Selket, Aset for raising the dead, and the gof Thoth for anything to do with sickness and healing.

The emphasis of Ancient Egyptian Magic is protection, often done throgugh an amulet or talisman. The circle or oval is the most important shape that has protective qualities.

The precise wording of a spell is important, as well as the colors that are involved. For magic to affect someone the magicians must know that person's true name.

The typical practitioner is male, literate, often a priest attached to a emple.

Folk Magic

This is a form of Low Magic practiced by amateurs.

This includes housekeepers who can keep the rats out, farmers who can ripen fruit before the height of the season, and scullions who can make water boil faster.

This people would only know a handful of spells, ans pass them in to memebers of their family.

Voodoo

Voodoo is religious magic and low magic.

The rituals are held in private, and may involve communication with spirits, especially the spirits of ancestors and saints.

Commonly used to cure aliments, confound enemies, and obtain desires.

Invent a System

Choosing the Right Words

If your character is clearly a witch, shaman, a necromancer, etc. with a specialty, use that term. Otherwise, the word "magician", or "mage" would be most appropriate.

The term "magus" (plural magi) refers to practitioners of the ancient Zoroastrian faith.

Strictly speaking, witches and wizards are practitioners of two very different magic systems, so your female character can be a wizard, and vice versa.

'Warlock' really means 'oath-breaker' or 'traitor' and doesn't describe a magician.

'Conjurer' is someone who can creae effects to impress an audience, not really magical in itself. The more modern temr would be 'illusionist'

A group of magicians may be called a 'coven' (though it applies mostly to Wiccan magic). A magician working alone would be a 'solitary'.

Magic vs. Magick

Normally, "magic" is the correct spelling.

However, "magick" may be used, especially by insiders, to emphasize that they refer to the real thing, not conjuring or other trick of the eye.

The magic systems are sometimes capitalized, sometimes not. When it involves a religion, nationaliy, or a particular family line, it is capitalized. Just make sure to keep it consistent throughout your book.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

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spider-xan · 1 year ago

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Me, crawling wearily through the Dracula Daily tag against my better judgment, sighing: Once again (again), multiple things can be true at the same time, like, it is true that Jonathan is being abused by Dracula AND it is true that there are overtones of xenophobia where Dracula is the scary foreigner villain menacing the upstanding Englishman hero AND the dynamic between Jonathan and Dracula is a literary reference to gothic heroines AND I wouldn't be surprised if Stoker was using the novel as an outlet with plausible deniability for gay fantasies about Henry Irving AND there are gay predator vibes bc Stoker also had internalized homophobia and the whole thing with the second Oscar Wilde trial AND the characters are fictional but fiction affects real life and some readings reflect the readers' biases in a way that can hurt real people AND AND AND ...

#dracula #dracula daily

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whereforarthur · 3 months ago

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Ménage à trois

A/N: Getting back into writing due to my recent obsession with the British YouTube scene, especially ArthurTv and ItalianBach. There is a lack of ItalianBach imagines and I figured I’d try and fill that void.

Pairing: ItalianBach x Gf!reader x ArthurTv

Summary: As ItalianBach’s girlfriend you are asked to gather fanfics of the boys to discuss on the podcast, not knowing what could possibly happen…

Word Count: 6.4K

Rating: Mature

Category: Smut with Fluff at the end

Content Warnings: threesome, blowjob, pussy-eating, vaginal penetration, kinda overstim, praise, degrading, reader on the pill, unprotected sex, cum in pussy, cum on pussy, lil bit of choking, kinda forceful at times

italicized text is fan fictions y/n is reading

******

After 2 years of being the girlfriend to ItalianBach, you have grown to admire his uprising and the more and more fans that began to accumulate. Of course, you were proud of your boyfriend's success, but along with it came hundreds of thirsting fans. The number of thirst traps and edits that would now pop up on your FYP was insane. You couldn’t blame them though, to be fair you were dating a Greek god of a man.

So you were quite surprised when Isaac asked you to gather some imagines and fanfics to discuss on the next episode of the Bach and Arthur Podcast.

“Are you sure you want to torture yourselves,” a blush began to rise on your cheeks as you asked Isaac, “Some of those imagines can get pretty naughty.” Having spent your fair time on Tumblr in the past you knew of the kind of filth that people could write up.

Isaac laughed at the blush that rose on your cheeks when you asked him. “Of course, love I’m sure it can’t be that bad and I think it would be great laughs for the pod.” He replied.

You couldn't help but feel a peculiar mix of excitement and trepidation as you thought about the idea of finding hot fanfics about your boyfriend and best mate.

But you hadn't expected to find a treasure trove of fanfics and smut featuring ArthurTv, the charismatic co-host of his show. The explicit scenes had taken you by surprise, You felt a guilty thrill as you realized that the raw passion in the stories had your pulse racing.

*****

Her eyes were transfixed on the words that danced before her, a particular imagine that had caught her attention. It was of Arthur, the charismatic yet enigmatic star of the screen, a man whose allure was as vast as the universe itself.

The image painted a picture of Arthur in a state of sublime surrender, his powerful form bent to the will of unseen hands.

"Arthur looked so gone with each bounce, his chest rising and falling so dramatically with each breath, his eyes half lidded and completely dumbified, the way his lips twitched slightly as though he needed to say something but couldn't between all his high whimpers and moans which had you racing towards your climax."

Her hand wandered down to her thigh, tracing the contours of her skin as she delved deeper into the narrative. The fabric of her shorts grew damp as her arousal grew in response to the erotic tale. Each word she read was a caress, a whispered promise of the intensity that awaited her if she dared to let go.

But she knew she had to move on. There was a podcast to prepare for, after all. With a shaky exhale, she closed the tab and opened the next link. The effort to shake off the excitement was Herculean, but she managed, focusing instead on the task at hand. The next fanfic began innocently enough, a gentle romance blossoming between Arthur and another character. She forced her breathing to even out, her racing heart to slow, as she willed her thoughts back to the podcast. The words on the screen swam in front of her eyes, the aftershocks of the previous story lingering in the air like a seductive perfume.

This new tale took a surprising turn, however, as Arthur's love for lingerie began to emerge.

"A side that made him seem like a menace, almost like he was a horny teenage boy who had been left alone with his female celebrity crush, becoming touchy and needy."

Her cheeks flushed as she read about his tender exploration of his partner's body, his eyes lighting up with wonder as he revealed the secrets hidden beneath layers of fabric. It was a stark contrast to the raw, unbridled passion of the first story, and she found herself drawn to this more intimate side of Arthur. Her own hands grew curious, wandering up to her chest, feeling the soft fabric of her shirt. She closed her eyes, picturing Arthur's hands, so adept at uncovering secrets, working their magic on her.

You tried to convince yourself it was just the novelty, the thrill of the forbidden. But as you scrolled through page after page of steamy content, you couldn't help but feel a wetness between your legs that had nothing to do with the innocent curiosity of reading fanfiction. Your mind began to wander, imagining the scenarios playing out in the stories, with you as the unseen participant. The way Arthur’s mischievous smile would curve into something more seductive when he looked at you. It was wrong, you knew, but the allure was undeniable.

It was like a switch had been flipped in your mind, and suddenly, you couldn't get enough of the idea. The thought of being the one to bring that passion to the surface, to be the one they both craved, was intoxicating.

*****

The sudden sound of the key in the lock jolted her out of her reverie. Her boyfriend, Isaac, was home. She took a deep breath, willing her pulse to slow and her cheeks to return to their normal color. She had to compose herself; she couldn't have him finding her in such a state. Quickly, she minimized the browser and closed her laptop, hoping the evidence of her arousal wasn't too obvious.

"Babe, what’s got you so frazzled?" He said as he entered the living room, his voice a pleasant mix of curiosity and confusion. But as she looked up at him, she saw a glint in his eye that suggested he knew exactly what you'd been reading. A smirk played on his lips, and your heart skipped a beat.

You looked down at your laptop, feeling a sudden jolt of excitement and nervousness.

“Find anything good?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "Just the... stuff you asked me to look f-for the podcast," you managed to reply, your voice wavering slightly.

He sauntered closer, his eyes darkening as he leaned against the desk. "Oh, I know exactly what you've been looking at," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

Isaac’s smirk grew wider as he approached you, his eyes never leaving yours.

His eyes scanned the first imagine, a grin spreading slowly across his face as he read aloud, "Submissive ArthurTV smut." The title alone was enough to make you blush, and you found yourself eagerly waiting to hear his reaction.

As he read further, his smile turned into a puzzled frown. "These are all about Arthur?" he asked, looking through the opened tabs on your laptop. You nodded sheepishly, realizing your oversight in not mentioning the focus of the fanfics. "Well, I guess I'm not as popular as I thought," he said, trying to keep the sting out of his voice. Isaac looked at you, his expression unreadable. He took a sip of his coffee before finally speaking, "Well, I'm not surprised. Girls do seem to go crazy over his cuteness."

Having read all the imagines and smut all ready in perpetration, you couldn’t help but giggle and blush at Isaac. “Oh, you have no idea just how crazy they get over the boy.” Twiddling your thumbs as your gaze drops to the floor, nervous for Isaac to read them.

He leaned over the back of the couch, his fingers tracing the line of your neck. "You know, I've always wondered what you thought about Arthur," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Isaac’s hand rested on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate circles.

You had always found Arthur attractive, but you had never allowed your thoughts to wander beyond the realm of friendship. Your relationship with Isaac had been a happy one, filled with love and laughter, and the occasional podcast recording. But here you were, with your body responding to the illicit thoughts that the fanfics had planted in your mind. The room grew warmer as you felt Isaac’s hand slide down your arm, his fingertips grazing the inside of your elbow, sending sparks through your body.

He chuckled softly, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "You know, the way the fans write about us. The... fantasies they have." His voice was a seductive purr, sending shivers down your spine.

"Fantasies, huh?" you replied, trying to keep your voice even as your heart thudded in your chest. He leaned closer, his eyes searching yours, a silent question hanging in the air. "I guess everyone has their fantasies," you added, trying to sound nonchalant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed your excitement.

He chuckled again, a sound that sent a thrill through you. "Yeah, they do," he said, his thumb now tracing lazy circles around the inside of your wrist. His eyes never left yours as he spoke, and you could see the mischief in them. "And what about you?" he pressed, his voice dropping another octave. "What do you fantasize about?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. You had never been one to shy away from your desires, but this was new territory, even for you. "I... I've had a fantasy," you began, the words spilling out of you before you could stop them. "A threesome, with you and Arthur."

Isaac’s eyes widened, the smirk on his face morphing into something more serious. "Really?" he said, his voice thick with surprise and a hint of excitement. "You've thought about that?"

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his. The idea had consumed you since you'd first stumbled upon the fanfics, growing from a simple curiosity to a full-blown obsession. The more you read, the more you found yourself craving the kind of passion that seemed to exist only in the minds of the writers and their devoted readers. "I can't stop thinking about it," you admitted, your voice barely a murmur.

Isaac’s hand stilled on your wrist, his eyes searching yours. For a moment, there was silence, the air in the room thick with anticipation. Then, he leaned in, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was both gentle and demanding. You melted into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The taste of him was familiar, yet the context was alien, a heady mix that made your head spin.

As your kiss deepened, his hand slid down to your thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles that made you squirm.

You didn't know how this conversation had turned into this, but you didn't want it to stop.

"What if we made it a reality?" Isaac whispered against your lips, his breath hot and demanding. "What if we invited Arthur over tonight and made your fantasy come true?"

Your mind raced. Would Arthur really be up for that? Was he even attracted to you? The thought was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. You had known Arthur for only a couple of months, but the idea of sharing an intimate encounter with him was something you had never dared to consider. But the way Isaac was looking at you, with a mix of hunger and excitement, made it feel like anything was possible

“You think he'd be okay with it?" you asked, your voice shaking with anticipation.

Isaac’s grin grew, and he gave your thigh a firm squeeze. "I think he'd be more than okay," he said confidently. "You know he's always had a thing for you?”

The revelation sent a shiver down your spine. Arthur had always been flirty, but you had dismissed it as part of his charm. Now, the way he'd looked at you during podcasts, the lingering touches, and the way his eyes followed you around the room, took on a new meaning. You had been so wrapped up in your own life that you'd missed the signs that were staring you in the face.

Isaac’s hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "We can make it happen," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise. "But only if you're sure."

You nodded, your heart racing. The thought of being with both of them was thrilling and terrifying, but the excitement won out. "Call him," you said, your voice a breathy whisper.

Isaac pulled away, his eyes alight with excitement. He grabbed his phone and dialed Arthur’s number, his eyes never leaving yours. You watched him, your chest heaving, as he spoke in hushed tones, laying out the plan. You could only catch fragments of the conversation, but the way his eyes darkened and his voice grew lower told you that Arthur was on board.

As Isaac hung up, he turned to you, his gaze intense. "He's on his way," he said, his voice thick with desire. "Are you sure about this?"

You nodded again, unable to form coherent words. The anticipation was almost too much to bear. You could feel your body reacting, your core tightening with need. Your stomach was a whirlwind of butterflies as you thought about what was to come. You'd never been with two men at once, and the idea of it was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. You tried to calm your racing thoughts, but the anticipation was too much. You took a deep breath, feeling your chest rise and fall with the effort.

*****

When the doorbell rang, your heart skipped a beat. Isaac gave you a reassuring wink before heading to the door. You could hear the muffled sound of their greetings, and then Arthur’s voice grew clearer as he entered the room.

"Hey, gorgeous," Arthur said, walking over and kissing you on the cheek. His lips lingered just a moment too long, sending a thrill through your body. Isaac sat down next to you, his hand resting possessively on your thigh. The tension in the room was palpable, a delicious cocktail of excitement and nerves.

"So, Isaac here tells me you've been reading some... interesting fanfics about me," Arthur said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. He had a mischievous glint in his brown doe eyes, one that told you he knew exactly what was going on. You felt your cheeks heat up again, but instead of looking away, you met his gaze, letting him see the desire in your eyes.

“They were just for the podcast," you protested weakly, though the tremor in your voice gave you away. Isaac chuckled, his hand squeezing your thigh in a silent message of support.

Arthur’s eyes searched yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he sat down across from you. "Is that so?" he said, his tone teasing. "But they turned you on, didn't they?" he said, his voice low and seductive. You felt your face flush even hotter, but you didn't deny it. There was something about the way he said it that made you feel like you were sharing a naughty secret, something thrilling and taboo.

Isaac leaned back into the couch, his hand sliding up to rest on the back of your neck. "You can tell us, babe," he murmured, his thumb tracing lazy circles that made your pulse race. "It's okay to be turned on by a good story."

You took a deep breath, the words sticking in your throat like a guilty confession. "Yes," you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "They did turn me on." Isaac’s hand tightened around your neck, his thumb still tracing circles.

The two men exchanged a look, a silent communication that seemed to carry more weight than any words could. Arthur's smile grew, his eyes darkening with desire. He took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, his gaze never leaving yours. "Well, if you liked the stories, maybe we could give you a taste of the real thing," he said, his voice like velvet.

You could feel the tension between the three of you, a heady mix of excitement and nerves. Arthur leaned in, his hand landing on your other thigh, his fingers playing with the hem of your shorts. "Is that what you want?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the tumult of emotions within you. The fanfics had been a catalyst, igniting a desire you hadn't even known existed. Now, with the two men you had fantasized about so intimately right in front of you, it was like stepping into a world you had only ever dared to imagine.

Isaac's hand slid up to the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer for a kiss that was anything but gentle. His tongue danced with yours, tasting and claiming, as Arthur's hand began to inch higher up your thigh. You could feel the heat radiating from both of them, their desire a palpable force that made you feel alive in a way you hadn't in ages.

Breaking the kiss, Isaac whispered, "Take off your shirt," his voice a gruff command that sent a thrill through your body. You complied, the fabric slipping off your shoulders to reveal your lacy black bra. Arthur's eyes widened, his hand pausing for a moment before he reached out to trace the edge of the fabric with a fingertip.

The touch was electric, sending a jolt of desire through you. You watched as Isaac's gaze drifted down to your chest, his eyes dark with lust. He leaned in, his teeth grazing your neck as he unclipped your bra, freeing your breasts. Arthur’s eyes locked on them, his pupils dilating with hunger.

Isaac’s mouth found one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. You gasped, arching your back, your hands tangling in his hair. Arthur took the opportunity to kiss along your collarbone, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. You could feel the bulge in his pants pressing against your bare leg, his hand now resting on your hip.

The anticipation was unbearable, the room spinning with the heady scent of desire. Then, Isaac pulled away, his eyes locked on Arthur's. "Your turn," he said, his voice a rough growl. Arthur's eyes met yours, and you could see the challenge in them. You leaned in, your heart racing, and kissed him for the first time.

It was nothing like you had ever experienced before. Isaac's kisses were familiar, a dance of love and comfort that you had shared countless times. Arthur's kiss was something else entirely—it was wild, raw, and consuming. His lips were soft, yet firm, demanding your attention as his tongue slid against yours. You felt a jolt of electricity as your bodies melded together, his hand cupping your face with a gentle urgency that made your knees go weak.

Isaac’s hand slid down your back, his fingers tracing the contours of your body as he watched the two of you, his desire evident in the way his chest rose and fell. You could feel his arousal pressing into your side, a constant reminder that this wasn't just a kiss between you and Arthur, but a shared experience among the three of you.

Arthur's hand moved to your bare shoulder, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin as he deepened the kiss. You moaned into his mouth, the sound lost in the mingling of your breaths. His other hand found its way to your breast, his touch firm yet gentle, teasing the nipple until it stood at attention. You couldn't help but arch into his touch, the sensation making your toes curl.

Isaac's hand slid down to your waist, his fingers unbuttoning your shorts with a deftness that spoke of experience. He tugged them down, revealing the dampness of your panties. Arthur broke the kiss, his eyes dropping to the exposed flesh, his breath hitching in his throat. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice hoarse with need.

You felt Isaac's hand slide over your bare skin, his thumb hooking into the fabric of your panties. He tugged them down, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, yet incredibly turned on. You watched as Arthur's eyes followed the movement, his hand now resting on the bulge in his pants, his fingers tracing the outline. The sight of him, so obviously affected by your shared intimacy, was intoxicating.

"Take them off," Isaac murmured, his voice thick with need. You obeyed, standing up to shimmy out of your shorts and panties, leaving you in nothing but your heels. Arthur's eyes roamed over your body, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You felt a thrill of power at being the object of their desire, the center of their attention.

You sat back down on the couch, sitting in between the two boys. Isaac groaned as you pressed against him, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts. Arthur leaned in, his mouth finding your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. You moaned, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. Isaac's mouth found your other nipple, sucking hard, his teeth grazing the tender flesh.

You felt Arthur's hand slip between your thighs, his fingers toying with the slick folds of your sex. You were wet, so wet, and the feeling of his touch was almost too much. Isaac's hands roamed over your body, his fingertips teasing the edge of your ass, his thumbs tracing the line of your hips. You could feel their arousal, the thickness of their cocks pressing against you, and it only made you want more.

Isaac's mouth found yours again, his tongue delving deep as his hand began to rub you in slow, deliberate circles. You gasped into the kiss, your body responding instinctively to his touch. Isaac's hands moved to your ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he rocked his hips up into you, his hardness teasing your wetness.

You could feel the fabric of the couch beneath you, rough against your skin as Arthur's fingers slid deeper, his thumb circling your clit with expert precision. Isaac's mouth traveled down your neck, planting kisses along the way, his breath hot against your skin. Your hips began to move in time with Arthur's hand, the friction building into a crescendo of pleasure.

“Let's switch things up," Arthur murmured, his voice thick with desire. He gently pushed you back until you were lying on the couch, his eyes never leaving yours. He knelt between your legs, his hands on your thighs, spreading them wider. "I want to taste you," he said, his gaze burning into yours.

You felt a thrill of excitement at his words, the reality of the situation hitting you like a wave. You nodded, unable to form coherent words, as Arthur's hands guided you closer to the edge of the couch. Isaac watched, his eyes hooded with lust, as Arthur leaned in, his breath hot against your center. You could feel the anticipation building, the tension in the room almost tangible.

Arthur's tongue flicked out, tasting you for the first time, and you moaned, your hips bucking upward. He chuckled, the vibration against your clit sending sparks of pleasure through your body. His tongue delved deeper, exploring you with a hunger that was both surprising and thrilling. He was so attentive, so eager to please. Isaac's hands were on your breasts again, pinching and teasing your nipples as he watched Arthur devour you.

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of Arthur's skilled mouth and Isaac's firm grip on your body pushing you closer to the edge. You reached down, your fingers tangling in Arthur's hair, guiding him as he licked and sucked. You could feel the tension building, your muscles tightening as the first waves of orgasm began to crash over you. Isaac leaned down, his mouth finding yours as Arthur's tongue swirled around your clit, pushing you over the edge.

“Arthur, I'm going to cum," you gasped, the words barely making it past the lump in your throat. Arthur's eyes flicked up to meet yours, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he redoubled his efforts. You could feel the warmth spreading through your body, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until you couldn't hold it in anymore. You moaned, the sound muffled by Isaac's mouth, as you came, your body shuddering with pleasure.

The two men pulled back, their gazes locked on you as your orgasm washed over you. You felt a warm glow spread through you, a sense of satisfaction that was new and exhilarating. Isaac's hand slid down to cup your face, turning it so he could kiss you again, deep and slow, as Arthur's thumb lazily circled your clit, sending aftershocks through your body.

*****

When your breathing had evened out, Isaac whispered, "Now it's our turn." He slid out from under you, standing up and unbuckling his belt. Arthur followed suit, his eyes never leaving yours as he stripped out of his clothes. The sight of the two of them, fully aroused and ready, was like something out of your wildest dreams.

Without a word, you reached out and took Arthur's cock in your mouth, the velvety softness of his skin against your lips sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. Isaac watched with rapt attention, his hand moving to stroke his erection as he took in the sight of you pleasuring his podcast partner. The sensation was foreign, yet exhilarating, and you found yourself eager to explore more.

Isaac knelt beside the couch, his eyes on your bobbing head as he stroked himself. His cock was thick and veined, the tip glistening with precum. You felt his hand on your thigh, his thumb brushing against your still-sensitive clit, sending shockwaves through your body. You moaned around Arthur's cock, the vibration making him gasp.

"Fuck, you're so good at that," Arthur groaned, his hand tightening in your hair.

"Arthur, she's incredible," Isaac said, his voice thick with desire. "Her mouth is magic." Arthur groaned in response, his eyes rolling back as you took him deeper, the sound of your gagging only adding to the intensity of the moment.

The praise sent a jolt of excitement through you, making you want to show them just how good you could be. You took Arthur deeper into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked with all the passion and skill that Isaac had enjoyed.

Isaac leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "You're going to make him cum so hard," he whispered, his hand sliding down to your ass, his fingers teasing your opening.

The dual sensations of Arthur's cock in your mouth and Isaac's fingers on your ass were driving you wild. You felt yourself getting wetter, your pussy begging to be filled. Isaac noticed, his hand moving to stroke your clit as he whispered more dirty words of encouragement.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice a low growl of approval. "Take him all in. Show him how much you want this." Your eyes watered slightly as you took him deeper, the tip brushing the back of your throat. You felt a thrill of power as Isaac's hand tightened in your hair, guiding you, his breathing growing ragged. You had never done this before, but something about the moment made it feel incredibly right.

You felt Isaac's breath against your ear, his words sending shivers down your spine. You could feel his arousal pressing against your back, his hand still working magic on your clit. Arthur's hips began to buck, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth in a rhythm that matched the strokes of your hand. You could taste the saltiness of his precum, a hint of what was to come.

Suddenly, Arthur's body tensed, and with a guttural groan, he came. You felt the warmth of his cum fill your mouth, and you swallowed eagerly, not missing a beat. The salty taste was surprisingly delicious, a testament to the power of the moment. You pulled back, licking your lips, watching the aftermath of pleasure play out on his face. Isaac's hand slid away from your clit, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Isaac leaned in, watching with hooded eyes as you continued to pleasure Arthur, drawing out every last drop of his release.

Arthur leaned back, his chest heaving, a look of pure bliss etched on his features. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you had over him, the way he had lost control in your mouth. Isaac chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Good girl," he murmured, his hand tracing the line of your jaw.

You looked up at Arthur, his cock still semi-hard in front of you. "Can you go again?" you asked the question dripping with curiosity and desire. He blinked, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "For you?" he replied, his voice still thick with arousal. "Always."

Isaac chuckled, his hand guiding his erection closer to your mouth. You eagerly took him in, his taste a heady mix of desire and power. As you began to suck, Arthur's cock grew harder, the anticipation building. You felt him shift behind you, his fingers ghosting over your ass before he positioned himself at your entrance.

With a single, smooth thrust, Arthur entered you, filling you up completely. You gasped around Isaac's cock, the sensation of being filled by two men at once was unlike anything you'd ever experienced. Isaac's hand tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as Arthur began to move, his strokes long and slow, drawing out the pleasure.

"Look at her," Isaac said, his voice filled with pride. "Taking us both like a champ."

Arthur's hand smacked down on your ass, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You yelped, the sting turning into a rush of heat that only added to your arousal. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You're so fucking sexy."

You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that had you on the edge of another orgasm. Isaac's eyes never left yours as you took him deeper into your mouth, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, a testament to Arthur's passionate strokes.

Arthur's hand tightened on your hip, his other hand sliding around to your throat. He didn't squeeze, but the mere presence of his touch there sent a shiver down your spine. It was a silent claim of dominance, one that had your body responding in ways you didn't fully understand. You felt Isaac's cock swell in your mouth, his breathing growing ragged.

The three of you moved in a symphony of passion, each touch and stroke building upon the last. You could feel Arthur's cock twitching, his movements growing more urgent. Isaac's hand in your hair tightened, his hips jerking as he approached his climax. You could feel your orgasm building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.

Suddenly, Isaac's hand left your hair, his fingers sliding down to trace your cheek. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice strained. You obeyed, your eyes locking with his as he began to spurt into your mouth, filling you with his warmth. You swallowed, the salty taste of him mixing with the pleasure of Arthur's cock inside you. Isaac's eyes never left yours, the intimacy of the moment searing into your soul.

Arthur's pace quickened, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he felt his release building. He leaned over you, his hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking the nipple. The two men watched each other over your body, their expressions a mix of lust and possessiveness. Arthur's strokes grew more erratic, his breathing ragged. "I'm going to cum," he warned, his voice tight. You felt your orgasm building, the pressure in your core threatening to shatter you.

“Come for us," Isaac murmured, his hand sliding down to stroke your clit in time with Arthur's thrusts. The combination was too much, and with a scream that was muffled by Isaac’s mouth on yours, you came again, your body convulsing around Arthur's. He followed you over the edge, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he filled you with his release.

For a moment, the three of you stayed like that, panting and trembling, lost in the aftermath of your shared climax. Then, Arthur withdrew, his cock glistening with your juices.

You felt boneless, your muscles turned to jelly as Arthur pulled out, his breathing ragged. Isaac helped you up, his arm around your waist as you swayed slightly. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a low rumble of concern. You nodded, a lazy smile on your face, still reeling from the intensity of the experience.

The three of you stood there for a moment, panting and sweaty, the air thick with the scent of sex. Isaac leaned in to kiss you, his tongue claiming your mouth in a way that left no doubt who you belonged to. Arthur's hand rested on your shoulder, his own need for dominance sated for the moment.

*****

The three of you collapsed onto the couch, breathing heavily, your bodies sticky with sweat and cum. You felt a sense of euphoria wash over you, a heady mix of satisfaction and disbelief.

“Damn, that was incredible," Arthur murmured, his voice heavy with satisfaction. You nodded, unable to find the words to express the tumult of emotions coursing through you. You felt used in the best possible way, claimed by two men who had given you pleasure beyond anything you'd ever known.

Arthur stepped closer, his hand tracing the line of your spine as he leaned in to kiss you. "You're both incredible," you managed to say, your voice a hoarse whisper.

*****

Arthur stepped back, his desire still evident in his eyes. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said, his voice still thick with lust. You nodded, your legs wobbly as Isaac helped you to your feet. He led you to the bathroom, the two of them following close behind. The warm water of the shower washed over you, the steam filling the room as they lathered your body with gentle, soothing strokes.

They took turns washing you, their hands gliding over your skin with a tenderness that belied the intensity of what had just happened. You felt cherished, desired, and utterly consumed by them. Isaac's hands lingered on your breasts, his thumbs flicking your sensitive nipples until you gasped. Arthur's soapy hands roamed down your back, his fingers tracing the lines of your ass before slipping between your cheeks.

You took a deep breath, feeling both sated and overwhelmed. "Guys," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I can't handle anymore tonight." You felt a twinge of regret, but your body was begging for a break from the intensity of the evening.

Isaac's arms tightened around you, his lips brushing against your ear. "Sshh, baby," he soothed. "You've been amazing. We'll save the rest for another time." His words were like a warm blanket, wrapping around you and easing the tension that had built up in your muscles.

Arthur nodded in agreement, his eyes still dark with hunger, but understanding in your exhaustion. "You've done more than enough," he said, his voice a soft rumble that sent shivers down your spine despite your satiation. "Let us take care of you now."

When you were clean, they helped you out of the shower, wrapping you in a soft, warm towel. Isaac's arms circled you from behind, his chest pressing against your back as he kissed your neck. Arthur took the towel from you, his eyes never leaving yours as he dried you off, his touch lingering in all the right places.

They led you to the bedroom, the soft light from the bedside lamp casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets. Isaac laid you down, his hands smoothing over your skin as Arthur climbed in beside you. They surrounded you, their warm bodies a comforting cocoon that seemed to chase away any lingering nerves or doubts.

You snuggled closer to Isaac, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you against his chest. Arthur's hand found your thigh, his fingers idly stroking the soft skin as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. You felt safe, cherished, and more alive than you had in a long time.

You looked up at Isaac, your hand sliding up to trace the line of his jaw. He opened his eyes, the intensity in them replaced with a soft, affectionate gaze. "Thank you," you whispered, the words barely carrying across the pillow.

He smiled, a gentle curve of his lips that made your heart flutter. "For what?"

You shrugged, feeling a little shy. "For making this happen. For making it feel...right."

Isaac leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft and reassuring. "You're welcome," he murmured. "Now get some rest. We've got a podcast to record tomorrow."

You chuckled, the mundane thought of the podcast a stark contrast to the erotic whirlwind of the evening. Arthur's hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray lock of hair. "Sleep tight, love," he whispered, his voice thick with affection.

“I can't believe we're going to talk about this on the podcast," you said, a hint of nervousness in your voice.

“Don't worry," Isaac assured you, his thumb tracing small circles on your hip. "We're not going to spill the beans about what happened here. That's our little secret." Arthur nodded in agreement, his hand still resting on your thigh. "But we will definitely talk about the fanfics," he added with a wink.

The three of you lay there, the tension of the evening slowly unwinding. The air was still heavy with the scent of sex and desire, but now it was tempered with a warmth that was almost comforting. Isaac’s chest rose and fell steadily beneath you, his heartbeat a reassuring throb that lulled you closer to sleep. Arthur's hand continued to move in lazy circles, his breathing evening out as his eyes drifted closed.

The podcast was going to be interesting tomorrow, you thought with a small smile. But for now, you were content to bask in the afterglow of your newfound reality. This was a night that would go down in history, not just for the podcast, but for the three of you.

******

Ménage à trois (Part 2)

A/N: Let me know what you guys think my first time writing in a while, I am going to open my requests to imagines of the British YouTube scene. Let me know if anyone would be interested in that!

A/n: Big shoutout and thanks to @g-xix and @live-laugh-lenney for letting me reference and use some of their brilliant smut in this imagine

Smuts references:

Submissive ArthurTV smut

arthur loves lingerie

#arthurtv #italianbach #threes0me #fluff #x reader #smut #female reader #british youtubers #arthurtv x reader #arthur x reader #italianbach x reader

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kitsuren · 5 months ago

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DEMO // PLAYLIST

Flirting with Death is a 18+ Otome-like action dark romance in the form of an interactive fiction. The game focus will be mostly into character and relationships development, exploring how you interact with the world and the reactions to your decisions.

Take charge of Eris, a newly (and forcibly) inducted operative of a shadowy organization, as she enters a world way more twisted from what she is already used to.

The game will be released chapter by chapter and it will be entirely free after completion!

You died. For all your life, you have been making bad decisions after bad decisions and this time your luck ran out. During your years working with the wrong side of the law you had seen the good, the bad, and the ugly. What you never expected was that your choices would take you into a maze of lies and backstabbing capable to bring countries to their knee. Something big is happening and you are not in the small leagues anymore. To bring down titans you will have to ally yourself with the shady HADES Project, a group with dubious objectives and even more dubious reasons. In a race against time you will have to do the unthinkable before it is too late. There is no right or wrong in this game and the stake is your second chance in life. The clock is ticking. Grab your power suit. Gather your allies. And remember: Trust no one.

Play as a female gender locked protagonist;

Customize your Eris: decide on your past, specialization, appearance, and attributes, bringing your character to life;

Romance one of the 3 initial ROs, each of them having their own unique route that explore the story trough different perspectives;

Make decisions that impact the people around you for the good or the bad;

Use state of the art never-seen-before technology, including your very own power suit so you will never die (again!) during a mission;

Choose between 5 classes that will assist you during the various dangers that will follow you and your team as you try to solve the mystery;

Be a a righteous vigilante or a complete menace to society;

Kick a billionaire in the face (or not)!

This game is rated +18. Not only it will touch on heavy subjects, but it will also contain:

Graphic depctions of violence; Strong language; Unhealthy coping mechanisms; Guns and gun violence; Manipulation tactics; Explicit sex (if chosen); Taboo relationship; Toxic relationship; Mature content; (This list will be updated if and when necessary!)

Yes, the protagonist is gender locked: This is my first time coding an IF and I didn't want to bit off more than I could chew. Not only that, I wanted to mix the otome/josei genre with the interactive format. Maybe it will work, maybe not.

This game is a ROMANCE first and foremost: You will not be able to opt out of it. I am aware that some people are not fond of this type of content and yes, you as a player will have the choice to have (or not!) sexual content/pda, but you will not be able to get out of locking into a romantic route.

Cold, cynical, and incredibly sardonic, Phobos is all objective, giving up on any and all distractions and not being afraid to do whatever it is necessary for the greater good. His no-nonsense attitude and his constant tries to intimidate anyone into submission turned him infamous in the organization. His morality is almost black and he doesn’t care about the sacrifices that he needs to do to obtain the desired result. Killing for him is second nature, but most of times he will let Deimos talk him down from his murderous rampage. At least until he decides that the more approachable way is not being efficient anymore.

Friendly, good natured, and helpful. Everyone who knows Deimos has the impression that the man is not fit for this kind of work. He is well regarded by anyone across HADES and normally tries to resolve everything without violence, doing a really good work as a “face” in his Kerberos Unit. But don’t be mistaken, even preferring to not harm innocents, Deimos is a perfect killing machine, honed by his past to be the perfect assassin and torturer. He has an approachable personality, but when working he only focus on the job that needs to be done. Can be quiet work focused and hyper fixate on the mission, which feeds his insomnia.

With zero chills to give and almost always having and anxiety attack due to Phobos and Deimos shenanigans, his boyish appearance masks very well his personality and he constantly runs with the power of coffee and spite. As a handler he is extremely methodical and professional, being proficient with first aid, tech, engineering, and plan making, even if his ADHD tries as hell to hinder his plans. Being a genius, he mostly always lose patience with stupidity and prefer to work by himself. Chaos is the youngest handler in HADES history and by far one of the most respected, at least by name, since he is the only one capable to make Phobos and Deimos to actually shut up with just a glare. Can be a tad dramatic and fatalist, but he rarely is wrong. His favorite phrase is “I ain’t paid enough to deal with this shit” (Yes, he is.).

#announcement #flirting with death #twine if #twine game #josei jam #interactive fiction #if wip #dark romance

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spicypineneedles · 7 months ago

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been on a clown roll lately! here are some color-experimentation sketches along with my self-insert... oc? thingy? for @bamsara's Solar Lunacy universe!! I've been binging that shit for about a week straight- and the brainrot is real... (more rambles under the cut)

I've become an actual irl menace to my partner about sun/moon -related content because of Solar Lunacy :'D just- binging videos, playlists, fics, all that jazz! i haven't been more energetic/happy in a long while tho, and - even as a fictional character - bamsara's sun is hella infectious >:] i might probably clean up the doodle below- but for this being my first time drawing the daycare attendants its-- ok :] the absolute struggle i had with trying to figure out which side of their chassis' are colored-- and the poses gave me such trouble :sob: the little name-tag card in the middle was originally designed by bamsara (as you can see here), but i wanted to try and give my own little color-spin on it! <3 -- Other than that! the little fella in the top-right corner is an absolutely adorkable little cutie i found at the bottom of a bowl! (see the lil button image of him w/ his little flute-thingy) and i so had to draw him ;O; lil goober that i still need to try and make more skrunkly, somehow...

#buds musings #fnaf #fnaf fanart #fnaf au #solar lunacy #fnaf dca #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf security breach #how do i tag random clown that i saw on a plate...#clown #clown art #self insert #self insert oc #self insert x canon #(if you squint)

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starrynightmuse · 4 months ago

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Sign of the Times 🏛⏳️ I. Broken Dragonfly Wings

Aemond Targaryen x reader, Library of Alexandria AU

(Title inspired by the Harry Styles song)

Blurb: It's summer in Alexandria, Egypt, and the heat has reached sweltering heights. Children dash toward the banks of the Nile, eager to find relief in the cool waters while ladies fan themselves under the shade of palm trees. Thick mud huts keep families cool under the boiling sun. It would be 1,892 years before the first ice cubes would be invented and nearly two millennia until air conditioning. Even Jesus Christ wouldn’t be born until another 48 years. But you have the teachings of Aristotle and the works of Euclid. You're the first and only female scholar at the Library of Alexandria, the first institute of its kind. All your life has been spent in the pursuit of knowledge — until the arrival of a mysterious young scholar named Aemond.

Series warnings: period typical misogyny, ancient academia, teacher x student relationship (but they're the same age), violence, fire, sexual content (18+), reader is loosely based off of Hypatia of Alexandria, Targaryens x Ptolemies crossover, character deaths, inaccurate history for the sake of storytelling, accusations of witchcraft, debates on fictional religions, Plato, Daemon being a menace.

Word count: 5,380

Series Masterlist

Your heart was racing, terror coiling in your stomach like a serpent, but you refused to let it show as you looked out at the mob of angry faces around you in the pavilion.

“Traitor!”

“Death to the witch!”

“Kill her!”

You knew there was no escaping this. This was the end. Yet, even as fear flooded your chest, you refused to let go of your pride. You held your head up high as Prince Daemon approached you where you kneeled. He looked down at you, his cold eyes gleaming in sick satisfaction.

"I'm giving you one last chance, witch," he said, his voice hard and uncompromising. "Renounce your unholy ways and convert to the Faith of the Seven, and you shall walk away unharmed."

You looked up at him, refusing to back down. You hypocrite, you thought. When you spoke, your voice was steady and firm. "I cannot.”

The prince's expression darkened. He stepped closer to you, his lips close to your ear so that no one would overhear.

“There is nothing left for you. It's over. Save yourself and the crown will grant you mercy,” he hissed.

You spat at his face. "If the right to think is treason, then I embrace it proudly. I refuse to remain supplicant to a crown that fears the power of knowledge and labels it treachery."

Daemon's lips formed into a cruel snarl. He stepped back and turned to the crowd, opening his arms in a dramatic display. "The punishment for witchcraft is death!" his voice boomed. The crowd erupted, snarling and roaring like a pack of lions.

Your heart raced as the people closed in with stones in hand, hungry predators circulating their prey. You took a final deep breath, bracing yourself for the onslaught. The first stone hit you, a dull throb of pain that quickly gave way to sharper, intense sensations as more stones followed. You feel your knees collapsing to the hard floor. In reflex, you cover your head with your arms. You shut your eyes, and the last thing you saw was the memory of a single blue eye.

🏛⏳️

6 months earlier.

There's a buzzing in the air, and not just from the hum of people in the atrium outside. Inside your classroom, a large blue dragonfly lazily flies in circles, your students taking turns swatting at it as it zips by. It’s an epaulet skimmer, or an orthetrum chrysostigma, a common dragonfly found around Egypt. Last month, you helped survey them with a fellow scholar who was putting together an account of all the various insects along the Nile River delta. The research project was commissioned by the Princess Helaena Targaryen herself, whom you've heard was quite fond of natural history.

In the midst of your lecturing, the buzz of the insect feels amplified. In front of you sit nearly fifty pupils, all perched on wooden benches. Most of them are in their teens and early twenties, and all of them were young men with restless energy with wandering minds. While a few showed genuine curiosity, you knew that attendance was merely a formality to half of them, who were only present because their parents were wealthy aristocrats. Yet, you knew it was your duty to broaden their minds and instill some semblance of knowledge into their minds before they go on to graduate and become lords who make decisions that impact hundreds of people.

“Whether you believe in the Seven or the old gods, we accept that the divine has created all that we know,” you say, your voice carrying across the room. “Yet, the mechanisms behind how their creations work are a mystery to us mortals.”

There's a blur of blue near your eye when the dragonfly makes a landing on your nose. You swap it away and continue.

“For example, what are the gears that drive a drought? Elders of the past have said that a drought is punishment from an angry sun god. Holy men today say it is the repercussion of having vexed the Seven. But how, precisely, do these divine beings bring this drought upon us?” You pause, pacing around the room. “Like observing the work of a craftsman, we can observe the handiwork of the gods. We can observe that volcanic eruptions are one tool that the gods use to give us droughts. Likewise, miasma from a plague, which spews vaporous acid into the atmosphere, can cause rising temperatures and dry up rivers. (Modern Fact check: Miasma does NOT cause plagues. They are caused by infectious bacteria and viruses.)

“Every natural disaster has forces, or causes, behind them. Although perhaps only the gods may know the truth of the workings behind these events, philosophers and believers of science have theorized why certain disasters come to be. Take earthquakes, for example. Compared to droughts, it is much harder for us to determine how earthquakes are created. Aristotle, for one, suggested that it is caused by winds in subterranean caves.”

One of your pupils seated on the front row raises his hand. Ebony curls, dark eyes that remind you of beetles, his robes a deep plum that only money can buy.

“Perhaps Aristotle failed to consider that earthquakes could just be Atticus's mother walking to the market,” he says, a cocky grin spreading across his face. His friend gives him a hearty slap on the back, nearly doubling over with laughter.

You offer a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you, Flavius."

Some of your students were more mature than others.

Flavius's jolliness is short-lived, however. The dragonfly suddenly decides to dart into his eye and he lets out a startled shriek. He swats at the insect and tumbles forward off the bench. His friend roars even harder with laughter. Meanwhile, the dragonfly falls onto the floor, its delicate blue wings now broken. A couple students in the back crane their necks in curiosity as Flavius stomps his feet on the insect's body, crushing it mercilessly against the tile floor. Tiny blue limbs smear across the tiles, its wings in pieces like shattered glass. A life snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

Flavius settles back onto the bench, straightening his toga with an air of nonchalance. "Apologies, miss. Please, continue," he says.

You choose to ignore his interruption, redirecting your attention to the rest of the class.

“When we attempt to unravel the mysteries behind the divine's creations, we begin to understand the natural world,” you say, thinking about the dead bug in front of you, its blue wings, the blue of the Nile, all the species of flora and fauna that have survived for eons thanks to its life-giving waters. “This is why we study the discipline of science.”

“Beyond these walls, I have heard many who deem it to be blasphemy,” a voice interjects.

Your gaze shifts to a young man at the rear of the room. You've never seen him before, not in your classroom nor around the Library. If you've seen him, you would know. With his sharp features, nearly white hair cropped close to his head, and a leather eyepatch covering an angry scar on his left eye — his was not a face you would forget.

“What do they call you?” You ask curiously, piercing blue eye meeting yours. He seemed a bit older than the rest of your students — perhaps in his mid-twenties, around the same age as you. You briefly wondered where he was from. His features stood out in a sea of dark haired Alexandrians.

"I am called Aemond, ma'am," his voice remained composed and respectful. "Just Aemond." There was a refinement in his speech that hinted of a privileged upbringing, yet the absence of a surname intrigued you. Perhaps he was an educated slave, adept at tutoring and managing the finances of the master's household — literate slaves were not uncommon in the Roman Empire.

"And what have you heard, Aemond?" you inquire.

"It is said that scientific inquiry is seen as an offense to the Seven," he responds evenly, referring to the gods. "Questioning their creations is considered sacrilegious." Several students nod in agreement around the room.

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts.

“It is true that outside these walls, the belief that science is sacrilegious is held by many people,” you say slowly. “Perhaps even now, some of you are wrestling with the idea, torn between conventional thinking and what you are learning at this institute. If this is the case, I implore you to consider this —”

You look out at the faces of your pupils. Some are focused and deep in thought, while others are frowning. A lone blue eye is fixed on you.

"—What act of love is greater than seeking to understand the object of your affection? Mathematics, physics, and astronomy are not merely academic pursuits but they are expressions of love. They are avenues through which we seek to comprehend and appreciate the intricate beauty of our world.” You gestured around the room. “I am aware that some of you are followers of the Seven. Some of you are devoted to the old gods. But science does not seek to refute the existence of one God over another, nor does it attempt to debunk the existence of the divine altogether. Science seeks only to understand.” You look in Aemond's direction. He's watching, listening intently. “In attempting to understand the natural world, we may better love the divine and appreciate their creations.”

🏛⏳️

The remainder of the class concluded smoothly, and due to the sweltering heat, you dismissed everyone earlier than usual. Despite the hour not yet reaching midday, the air was thick with humidity, making the classroom feel oppressive. You had no desire to keep your students in the stuffy classroom for longer than necessary.

As the others rush to leave the room, you notice that Aemond was kneeling down and using a handkerchief to clean the dragonfly off the floor.

“Thank you,” you say to him earnestly. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he delicately holds the insect through the thin white cloth. He picks up a broken piece of an iridescent blue wing, the shimmer catching the light.

"It's an epaulet skimmer," you remark softly. But you're not looking at the bug, you're looking at him.

"Orthetrum chrysostigma," Aemond responds, using the scientific name. You regard him with curiosity.

“My sister has a fondness for insects," Aemond explains. "She is extremely gentle with them. She maintains an extensive collection in her room — beetles, caterpillars, dragonflies, and the like. But she only gathers them once they've passed on. Her heart is too big to confine them before they've lived a full life." He gazes at the broken wing in his hand with a hint of sadness. You suspect that he is thinking of more than the fate of the squashed bug.

“Some cultures believe that dragonflies were once dragons who were tricked by a jackal to change shape into insects,” you say, looking at the wing in fascination. “Once they became a dragonfly, they couldn't transform back. As a result, they represented change and illusion.”

You notice that Aemond's gaze is now fixed on you, a blue eye that reminds you of iridescent wings and the shimmering surface of the Nile on sunny days. You think of mirages in the desert, blue lapis lazuli on polished gold rings, the holographic shells of scarab beetles.

“They must've been very grand in their past lives,” he remarks.

There's a short silence as you observe him, unsure of what to make of this strange new addition to your class. As your gaze shifts from his eyepatch to his eye, you notice that he's studying you too. Suddenly, you feel very exposed, as if he was somehow reading your entire life story just by looking at you.

Breaking the tension, you extend your hand. "I realize I haven't properly introduced myself. It's been a pleasure having you in my class," you say, stating your name. He accepts your gesture, clasping your hand in a firm shake.

“You're the daughter of Theon. Your father is the greatest mathematician in all of Alexandria,” Aemond says. “I know who you are.”

“Do you study mathematics?”

“No. History and philosophy,” he replies. “But I've read enough across all the disciplines to know who the greats are.”

“I don't think I've ever seen you around here before,” you note.

"I just started my studies here," he explains. "I arrived last night."

"Where else have you studied?"

“Nowhere else. All my education has been from tutors hired by my family at home.”

"If you don't mind my asking, where do you come from?"

He hesitates. “I've been around,” he says at last.

🏛⏳️

That afternoon, you decided to teach your next class in one of the classrooms overlooking the sea. Arriving early, you unlatch the tall, arched windows, hoping to coax a gentle breath of ocean breeze into the room. As the soft light of the late afternoon filtered through, you arrange your teaching materials as the first of your students trickled in.

The class was on Euclidean geometry. As it happens, this was one of your favorite subjects to teach. You loved to move around the room, using various objects — such as a discus, a sphere, and even a pineapple — to illustrate geometric shapes and their properties. It was more than just memorizing formulas; it was about seeing and understanding the spatial relationships and practical applications of mathematics in the physical world.

Two thousand years from now, Euclidean geometry would be the foundation for computer graphics, radiology, and geographic information systems. Without Euclid, you wouldn't have video games or anime. There would be no x-rays to help doctors treat broken bones. Without Euclid, there would be no Google Maps, nor would you be able to stalk your crush's location on Snapchat.

Abruptly, you are cut off mid-lecture as a series of bold knocks echo off the door. You excuse yourself and open the door cautiously, finding yourself face-to-face with six armored men adorned in gold cloaks. You step out into the atrium.

"What is your business?" you ask, your gaze sharp and guarded.

“Prince Daemon Targaryen wants to speak to Theon of Alexandria. I'm told you're his daughter,” the guard at front says firmly.

“My father is indisposed. Whatever business you have with him, you can discuss with me.”

A sudden laugh rings out across the atrium. Every movement in the hall comes to a standstill as scholars pause their tracks and turn their heads. In front of you, guards quickly part ways for a tall man with long silver hair. His armor clinks as he strides towards you, his eyes mischievous like those of a jackal, reminding you of the ancient depictions of Anubis on temple walls. Adorning his shoulders is the same golden cloak worn by his men.

It was the unmistakable Prince Daemon Targaryen, brother of King Viserys and the consort of the crown princess Rhaenyra. But to the smallfolk, he is known as the merciless commander of the City Watch.

Daemon looks at you like you are the scum on his shoes. “I don't have time for games, girl,” he says mockingly. “Where is your father?”

“Like I've said, he is indisposed,” you repeat, meeting him with a steady gaze.

“I have come a long way from the palace,” he says, offering a false honeyed grin. “You will fetch him for me.”

You give a smile that mirrored his. It was common knowledge that Prince Daemon frequented the company of his mistress in the city more than he did his own wife at the royal palace.

"I speak the truth when I say my father cannot be here right now, and I apologize on his behalf. However, I am willing to assist you,” you assert calmly.

"This does not concern you," Daemon retorts dismissively. "I am here on business concerning your father's governance of this... academic institution."

"I am a professor here and a senior member of the Library of Alexandria," you counter, maintaining your composure. "After my father, you will find no one more knowledgeable about the affairs of this institute than I am."

Daemon scoffs, his tone condescending. "There are matters too serious to discuss with a woman.”

“Then I'm afraid you will have to come back another day, my prince.”

“Where is your father?”

“He is sick. Unless you have a direct order from the king, I would prefer not to disturb him from his much-needed rest."

The unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air — the Library is under the protection of the crown, and Daemon, despite his authority, is not the king. The prince's expression darkens, a sneer painting his features as his knuckles grip around the handle of his sword on his waist. You find yourself locked in a tense staring contest, both unwilling to yield. Moments tick by in silence, each waiting for the other to give in. Then —

“Very well,” he concedes, letting go of his grip on the sword. But you knew from his expression that this was far from over. Daemon casts a disdainful glance around the atrium as if the place offended him before turning and walking away from you. His gold cloaks follow him, their armor clanking all the way to the main doors of the library.

It is only when the last of them exited onto the street that you allow yourself to release the breath you've been holding.

🏛⏳️

“Daemon Targaryen? What was he doing here?” You hear Cregan before you see him.

You're in the far corner of the main reading room, kneeling before a crate with a new shipment of scrolls that came in from Greece. Gently opening the lid, you discover a signed note from the head of the Platonic School of Athens. Ἕν οἶδα ὅτι οὐδὲν οἶδα. Αὕτη ἡ γνῶσις ἐμοῦ ἐστιν, it reads at the end. One thing I know, that I know nothing. This is the source of my wisdom. It is a quote by Socrates.

Cregan emerges from behind a shelf, his gray eyes wide with exasperation.

“I can't say that I haven't expected this,” you say to him, picking up a scroll and lightly dusting it off. “It is no secret that Daemon puts up with us only because of the pharaoh.”

“Well, yes. But to barge in here and demand for the Professor—” he means your father Theon.

“He's been sending us threats for months.”

Cregan paused. “When did this start?”

“Four moons ago, when King Viserys reinstated him as Lord Commander of the City Watch.”

Daemon had been the commander of the city watch once before, but that had been years ago, and back then he was more interested in dealing with criminals in the worst parts of the city. But after some scandal with the Princess Rhaenyra, Viserys had exiled him to Rome. Now, he was back and had regained both his old post as leader of the city guard and the Princess Rhaenyra, whom he took to wife. However, this time, Daemon was turning his policing to the University of Alexandria, more commonly referred to as simply the Library. Apparently, scholars are the new criminals.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Cregan asked, clearly frustrated.

“I didn't want to burden you with it," you reply honestly. "You've been occupied with your research with Princess Helaena these past four moons.”

Cregan rubs his eyebrows. “What has he been threatening?”

With a sigh, you rise to your feet, making space on the shelf for the new scrolls. Cregan joins you, handing over scrolls from the crate as you arrange them carefully in their designated spots on the shelf.

“He wants to shut down the Library if we don't — and I quote his words — ‘tone down on the science’,” you explain. "He's pushing for censorship, insisting that everything that is taught and published here must be 'safe' for the public. He claims it's about protecting the moral well-being of Alexandrians."

Cregan snorts derisively. "I wonder what his wife thinks of his moral well-being."

"That's an ad hominem attack, Cregan," you chide gently. But you're smiling.

“We're the best scientific research institution in the Mediterranean,” he says. “And, let's face it, we're probably the best in the entire world. We owe it all to King Jaehaerys's proclamation over 50 years ago, protecting our intellectual freedom. Even Daemon Targaryen can't derail something like that.”

“Daemon doesn't like anything he can't control,” you say. “Nor does he like taking no for an answer.”

“He's a cunt,” Cregan muttered angrily. “His word isn't law but he sure does want to act like it. Did you hear he's been trying to ban all Northerners from entering Alexandria? Unless they're slaves, that is. It's utterly absurd. He's a Northerner himself. His entire family hails from the north—well, not the North, but north of the Mediterranean. Valyria is a small city-state in Greece. Still, that's north of us. If he wants only true Alexandrians in the city, maybe he should consider leaving as well." The Targaryens, although originally from Greece, had become the longest-reigning dynasty in Egypt, despite their non-Egyptian origin.

"What does Princess Helaena think?"

"Of Daemon?"

"Of the North."

Cregan blushes slightly. "She's mentioned that we should visit there together someday," he admits. “For research purposes, of course,” he adds quickly.

You grin. Cregan has been your closest friend since childhood, and you swear you've never seen him as happy as he's been the past few months.

"She wants to see the direwolves and the aurora borealis,” says Cregan. “I promised her I'd show her around Winterfell when we go." Winterfell, Cregan's hometown, nestled in a far-off corner of the world where snow and frost dominate most of the year — a large contrast to the sandy dunes of Egypt.

“You like her,” you mused.

“Don't be absurd,” Cregan says, but he's failing miserably in hiding a smile.

There's a rustling among the shelves behind you, and the next thing you know, you're face to face with a single blue eye that reminds you of ocean water and iridescent wings.

"Sorry, I was told that the texts about Plato are in this section?" Aemond asks.

"Oh. Yes. Absolutely," you reply quickly, gesturing around you. "I mean, they're all here. Everything on this wall is Plato. We've just received a new collection of his works from Greece and we just finished cataloging and setting them up. They're on this shelf. Here." Your words stumble out awkwardly, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Perfect,” Aemond says, looking at you. Neither of you move. Cregan eyes the two of you with amusement.

“Well, I was just about to head out,” Cregan says cheerfully, sashaying past you. You turn, widening your eyes and mouthing no to him. Cregan simply grins as he disappears behind the bookshelves, leaving you with Aemond.

“You read Plato?” you ask.

Aemond nods. “I am an admirer of his work,” he says. “You were one of my first introductions to him, actually. I read your thesis on him, An Exploration Into the Metaphysics of Plato, when I was sixteen.”

“I can't imagine there would be many copies of that,” you say with amazement. “I wrote it when I was—”

“Sixteen,” Aemond says. You blink. He clears his throat. “I've been a follower of your work,” he adds shyly.

“Oh. I'm flattered.” You’re blushing.

“Is it true that you started studying at The Academy when you were fourteen?” He means the Platonic School of Athens, founded by Plato himself over 300 years ago. Most scholars called it The Academy. It is the first university to ever open in western civilization.

You nod. “I learned mathematics and astronomy here, but my father wanted me to get a hellenistic education on top of it, so he sent me to Greece. I stayed there for four years before returning to Alexandria.”

“I have a brother who studies there,” Aemond shares, leaning against a bookshelf. “My mother, being an Athenian herself, insisted he be sent there. He writes to me sometimes, telling me about the professors he works with. I had considered studying there myself.”

“What made you choose Alexandria over Athens?”

Aemond smiles. “I'm at the center of the world here. It seemed foolish to want to go anywhere else,” he says, his gaze sweeping the library around him. After a pause, he asks, “What made you want to teach?”

“The fear of oblivion,” you reply. "It's the realization that everything we do, everything we learn, and everything we create could be forgotten someday. Teaching, for me, is a way to combat that inevitability. By sharing knowledge, by shaping young minds, I can hope to leave a lasting impact — a legacy that outlives me."

Aemond nods thoughtfully. "So it's about leaving a mark on the world?"

"In a sense, yes," you affirm. "It's about contributing to something greater than myself, ensuring that knowledge endures beyond individual lives and fleeting moments."

He smiles faintly. "That's a noble pursuit."

"It's what drives me," you conclude. As you look at each other, you feel his gaze tracing over your face with a strange emotion. Awe? Admiration? Before you can decipher his thoughts, a scholar approaches the shelf behind you, prompting you to awkwardly step aside.

"I hope you find the resources on Plato you're looking for," you say to Aemond, refocusing on the moment. You pause. "We're hosting a seminar on Plato's metaphysics tomorrow afternoon in the Rose Hall. You should join us."

Aemond smiles. “I’d be honored to.”

🏛⏳️

Daytime in Alexandrian summers can be hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk, but when the chill sets in at night, the city transforms into a completely different land. It is under the cloak of darkness that Alexandria truly comes alive.

You’re wrapped in a headscarf, its tail fluttering in the gentle wind from the Mediterranean as you navigate the narrow streets of the night market. Oil lamps and torches cast a soft, flickering glow as shadows danced across buildings decorated with a mix of hieroglyphs and hellenistic art. On the streets, you hear people speaking in both Greek and Egyptian, but also Persian, Moroccan, and other various African and Asiatic dialects. Various aromas filled the air— spices mingled with the savory scents of grilled meats and the sweet notes of baked pastries and delicacies from the far corners of the world. It was the New York City of the ancient world.

Weaving between stalls adorned with colorful fabrics and gleaming trinkets, you spotted one of the gold cloaks from earlier that day. Upon noticing you, he gave you a brief, curt nod before turning his attention sharply towards a group of rowdy children who were blocking the path of a passing wagon.

You make your way to an apothecary stall, securing the medicine your father needs before turning to leave. Suddenly, a hooded figure trips over a wooden crate and crashes into you, causing both of you to tumble to the ground. You fall flat on the cobblestones, his weight on top of you. Your basket with the apothecary vial shatters on the road.

“Ow!” he yelled. You struggle to push him off and get to your feet, then reach down to help him up, steadying him as he sways unsteadily. His hood falls back, revealing a mess of unruly white curls.

Prince Aegon Targaryen. You’ve seen him a few times while going around the city. The eldest son of Queen Alicent, known to frequent the streets of Alexandria often. Aside from Daemon, he was the only royal that most of the smallfolk could recognize by appearance.

"Prince Aegon," you say cautiously, helping him steady himself. "Are you alright?"

He blinks a few times, focusing on you with bleary eyes. "Why, hello," he slurs slightly, attempting a lopsided smile. For a prince, he seemed dirtier than Diogenes and his barrel.

"Let me help you," you insist, guiding him away from the scattered shards of glass. You maneuver him towards a nearby bench, ensuring he sits down safely.

"I’m alright, I’m fine," he murmurs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He groaned and vomited on the ground next to him. You pat him on the back awkwardly as he empties his stomach.

“Did my mother send you?” he said abruptly.

“What?”

“My mother. She sent you, didn’t she? I can’t catch a break these days,” he grumbled. “The woman is a menace. She’s become crazier since my brother got exiled. I can’t even drink in peace now. She’s sending her spies everywhere.”

You frowned. “I’m not a spy, my prince.”

Aegon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sits back heavily on the bench. He tilts his head up at you, scrutinizing you, and then he sighs and hungs his head.

“Forgive me,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I’m tired of the games. Tired of the scrutiny. I’m tired of the standards that she sets for me, and I’m tired of her disappointment when I fail to meet them. Can’t she see I don’t want any of this? Can’t she just let me be?”

You hesitate, unsure how to respond to the prince's candidness. He was clearly drunk and you’ve only just met him, and you’ve heard unsettling rumors about him. Stories of his frequenting brothels and fighting rings, of fathering illegitimate children and neglecting them. But in this moment, he seemed far from the crooked prince that people whispered about. He seemed like a child in need of comfort.

“Your mother worries about you,” you say gently. “She only wants what’s best for you.”

He scoffs bitterly. “Does she? Tell me, have you ever had a mother who would rather marry you to your own sibling for political gain than let you live your own life?”

You shake your head slowly. “I cannot say I understand fully, but I know you carry a heavy burden.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be free of it.” Aegon leans back, staring up at the night sky with weary resignation. “My brother was lucky. I’d do anything to exchange places with him.”

You recalled hearing news of Queen Alicent’s second son, who had been condemned to work in the mines of Nubia as punishment for the murder of his nephew. The usual penalty for murder was death, and much worse if the victim was a royal, but since the criminal was a prince himself, it changed a few things. The Nubian mines were typically reserved for lesser crimes in Alexandria.

“The one who was exiled to Nubia?” you asked Aegon.

He chuckles bitterly. “My brother didn’t get sent to Nubia. Mother loves him too much for that.”

You stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. You had a feeling that you weren’t supposed to be hearing this piece of information. Yet, Aegon didn’t seem to expect a reply. He’s looking up at the stars, as if he wished to fly off into the heavens and leave his miseries on the ground.

“Thank you,” Aegon finally said, breaking the quiet that had settled between you. Thank you for listening, thank you for not judging, thank you for watching out for my drunken mess. He rose to his feet, a bit unsteady but more composed than before. He took out a pouch of coins. “This is for… what I broke,” he said, gesturing to the remnants of the vial around you, shards of glass glittering under oil lamps. You thought of the broken dragonfly wings from earlier in the day.

You accepted the pouch gingerly. What he gave you was worth much more than the cost of the medicine, but you didn’t want to offend him so you decided not to mention it.

“Should I call the guards to escort you back to the palace?” you asked.

Aegon blinked, his gaze drifting momentarily. “No, no,” he said, waving dismissively. “They’re my uncle’s people. They don’t like me.”

"Will you manage on your own?" you pressed gently.

Aegon straightened his cloak and mustered a tired smile. "I always do," he said.

With that, the prince turned and started to walk away. You watched as he disappeared into the narrow streets, his figure gradually blending with the shadows.

Chapter II: Coming Soon

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd x you #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond x y/n

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see-arcane · 1 year ago

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Oh, Lucy. Lucy, Lucy, Lucy.

There are few characters in gothic horror, or fiction in general, that better exemplify the hell of being caught in a chronic state of highs and lows. I would jump straight to chronic illness--her battle with commandeered sleepwalking and vampiric exsanguination is very clearly that--but also the endless limbo state of one being preyed on by a stalker.

Right now, Dracula must be away, and so she's better for his lack of a new visit. His earth-boxes are being moved to their initial destination in Carfax Abbey, his respite in Whitby and toying with Lucy now paused. Lucy appears to be out of danger.

But she does not live in Whitby either. She must be on her way eventually. And even first-time readers can guess what's on the bleak and bloody horizon once she goes home.

It won't be a constant thing. A steep sudden drop and an ending. No.

Like sickness, like the menacing of a sadist who savors, Lucy's condition in Whitby has been a series of hills and valleys in wellness and ailment, joy and dread. The monster is jabbing a needle (two needles) into her over and over rather than skewering her in one go and being done with it. When he wants to collect a victim, he makes sure the uncomprehending fear, anxiety, and power play of the collection lasts.

More proof is to come on that front later. But Whitby's miseries are a great prelude. Highs, lows, hope, despair.

Lucy, Lucy.

I'm so sorry.

#blubbering about this girl again #lucy westenra #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

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chaoticallyfluffy · 13 days ago

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Introduction + My Shazam Masterlist!

Welcome to my blog! My name is Fluffy!

I am an artist and fan fiction writer who mostly focuses on one fandom at a time. My current obsession is Shazam!

My second blog is @fawcetttweets where I post Tweets from the DC universe, focusing on the daily lives of Fawcett City’s heroes and civilians!

My banner was created by @chocolatebriosh during art fight! The characters are my OCs :)

You can find me on TikTok and Ao3 with the username ChaoticallyFluffy or by using the links!

I tried my best to make it chronological with the oldest on top and the newest on the bottom, so if my early stuff sucks, feel free to skip to the bottom of each section!

In order I have my ficlets, fan art, animatics, and misc (mostly add-ons to other posts or tiny ideas that are too short to put into ficlets)!

The characters involved in the posts will be next to each link! Billy and Captain Marvel will just be called Billy unless they are specifically separate beings in the post.

Masterlist begins under the cut :)

Where'd he go? (Billy, JL)

Curses! (Billy, Mr. Mind, JL)

Identical (Billy, Mary, JL)

Whats in a Last Name? (Billy, JL, Batfam)

Billy Being a Menace (Billy, Bruce Wayne)

Lies and Half Truths (Billy, Danny Phantom, JL)

Ah, a Child (Billy, JL)

Power of Perception (Billy, JL)

Doomed by the Narrative + Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Billy, JL)

The Homeless Boy and Nepo Baby (Billy, Bruce Wayne)

Two Halves, Never Whole (Billy, Jason Blood, Marvel, Etigran)

Blissful Ignorance (Billy, JL)

Blunder + Look at this! (Billy, Marvel, Shazamily,

Billy Batfam (Billy, Batfam)

Silly Billy + Pocket Home (Billy, JL, Shazamily)

What are you, a cop? + Now you see me, now you don't (Billy, JL)

Gender Swap! (Billy, Freddy)

Learning to Live (Billy, JL)

Stop Calling Me Dad! (Billy, Shazamily, JL)

Matchmaking (Billy, Diana, Gay animals)

'Tis but a scratch! (Billy, JL)

Tea With Persephone (Billy, Persephone)

Home Alone (Billy, Sivana, Shazamily)

Marvel Licks Cocaine. Wait, wha- (Billy, JL)

Body Swap (Billy, Marvel)

Parent Trap (Billy, Mary, CC, Marilyn)

Serious Accusations (Tawky Tawny, Billy, JL)

Celebrity Lifestyle (JL, Billy)

Warrior Cats (Freddy)

JL as platonic Soulmates (Billy, JL)

Swear Jar (Billy, Shazamily)

Sibling Fights (Freddy, Billy, Mary, Red Robin)

Three Kids in a Trench Coat (Billy, Mary, Freddy, JL)

Clothes (Billy, Mary, CC, Marilyn, JL)

Dead name, literally (Billy, Gay people)

Unicorns! (Billy)

No Longer 2 in 1 (Billy, other)

Magical Garbage Disposal (Billy, superman, batman)

First Shazam Fan Art! Learning to Live outfits (Billy)

False Advertising (Billy)

The Duality of Marvel (Billy, Marvel)

Skill Issue (Freddy, Billy, JL)

Stock Photos (Billy, Marvel, C!Tommyinnit)

It's not you, its him (Billy, a random small child)

Closet Cosplay (Billy, Freddy, kind of Superman and Batman)

Experimental style (Billy)

If your reading this, i still haven't used the stickers. (Billy, Marvel)

*Pats him* *pats him* *pats hi- (Billy)

Whiteboard with friends! (Billy, Mary, Freddy, + more)

Billy Ratson (Billy, Marvel)

Bored (Billy)

Magical Girl Black Adam (Black Adam)

Sunny Sparkles (Sunny)

Ghost Boy! (Billy)

Gartic phone highlights pt. 1 (many characters!)

Tiger Bleps! (Tawky Tawny, Billy)

FREDDY!! (Billy, Marvel, Freddy)

Figurine Size Matters (Technically Batman and Billy)

Surprise! (Billy, JL)

Magical Girl?! (Billy, Barry, Poorly Drawn Evil Wizard)

Home (Billy)

Everyone Loves the Boy! (Harley Quinn, Billy)

Nails, nails, nails (Billy, Divine Twitch Chat, JL)

Stop. (Billy)

*Pats him* *pats him* *pats hi- (Billy)

My first Shazam post!

He needs more love :( (Kind of Billy)

Link to 'Kill him with kindness' fic

Asking for Eldritch Ideas (Billy kind of. Interesting comments!)

Zoooom! (Freddy, Billy, Batmans limitless funds)

Happiness (Billy)

Wip game (Billy, Clark)

Chaos boys (Billy, Klarion)

Link to 'Picture Day' fic (Billy, Cissie)

The first idea for Fawcetttweets! (Billy)

Marvel's Adventure! (Billy)

Peak Billy Design (Billy)

MY Boy! (Billy technically)

Talking about my fics release

Venn diagram (Billy, C!Tommyinnit, and Dave Strider)

DND (none technically)

Charlie (Billy, CC, Batman)

WIP Tag Game (Billy, Clark, Barry, Victor, Hal)

Implications (Billy)

Laws (Fawcett)

Link to my fanfiction called 'Bugs' (Billy)

Symptoms (Billy)

Fae (Billy)

Gotta Go Fast (Billy)

Tummy ache :( (Billy)

#Introduction #Masterlist #my rambles #dc #billy batson #shazam #dcu #justice league #dc captain marvel #others art #fanfiction #fanfic #fanart #fan art #my fanart #my writing #pinned intro #JL

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maquet591 · 7 months ago

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We need to talk about the Watcher "fans".

These are the top comments on Shane’s IG post. Just look at the number of likes.

“Steven Lim is a greedy, manipulative evil CEO that twists his white co-founder's hands and forces the said co-founder into his will!!!” – this narrative is being prevalent in this fandom since April 19. People harassed him all across social media on every platform. People wrote nasty comments not only to his social media accounts but also to his wife and friends.

People made a Change.org hilariously dumb petitions to have him leave the CEO post.

People gleefully demonize and tear down his reputation. Twist his words out of context in to something vile. Weaponize the years old inside jokes his friends made on camera.

“This is not racism!!!” they say. “These are just the facts!!!”

No they aren’t. And here’s why:

because this

is the same as this:

Covert racism in language, or coded racism, is the deployment of common stereotypes or tropes to elucidate a racially charged idea. Rather than expressly perpetuating racist tropes, covert linguistic racism is seen as rational or "common sense", and many are not aware of its impact.

Racial stereotypes. Racial or cultural stereotyping refers to generalizing a group based on a simplified set of norms, behaviors, or characteristics.

The Yellow Peril (also the Yellow Terror, the Yellow Menace and the Yellow Specter) is a racist color metaphor that depicts the peoples of East and Southeast Asia[a] as an existential danger to the Western world.

Fu Manchu is a fictional character created by Arthur Ward, a music hall writer and journalist in London in the early 1900s. Writing under the pseudonym Sax Rohmer, Ward had absolutely no knowledge of Chinese culture or Chinese people – but his invention of a Chinese supervillain struck a chord in Victorian Britain and became a smash hit.

Fu Manchu was the original fictional Asian villain, a trope which became embedded in popular culture and Western psyche spawning spin-offs, spoofs, pop songs, video games and even consumer goods. But how damaging is Fu Manchu and how much can he tell us about modern Asian racism?

Ward wrote Fu Manchu as the personification of the so-called Yellow Peril threat: exotic, alien and inhuman, a mastermind boasting degrees from top universities. Using sinister powers to control minds, he aimed to undermine Western civilisation.

"This led to the idea that the Chinese were deceiving – they weren't being honest, they weren't revealing who they really are as people. This spawned into stories of Chinese as cheats and liars and deceitful – never giving you the truth, always fabricating."

Seven Lim being labeled as “greedy” “evil” and “manipulative” (of his white co-founder) is rooted in Anti-Asian racism. Whether people admit it or not.

Racism is not always derogatory slurs or white hoods. Racism is also casual micro-aggressions and putting people of color in the metaphorical boxes of harmful stereotypes. Racism is twisting the narrative and shaping it into a vile stereotype straight from the 19th century.

Also, let's not forget that people are happy to jump on Ryan in the similar way for the same reasons.

#watcher #watcher entertainment #steven lim #watchertv #watcher tv #shane madej #ryan #ryan bergara #tw racism

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jesncin · 2 months ago

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The Potential of Asian Lois Lane: An extra addition

A bonus addition to my Asian Lois essay. I know Lois Chaudhari isn't technically a Lois since the premise of the comic she's from is where the Superman mythos is fictional and the characters in it happen to be named Clark/Lois etc. But since she's a Lois stand in and romantic partner to the Clark Kent of that story, I figured she deserves an honorable mention at least.

Here's where I position her in my Spectrum of Asian Lois Lane chart. And I'd like to talk about her!

Compared to American Alien, this Lois is actually specific and textually Indian in Superman: Secret Identity. Unlike American Alien Lois (that never specified what kind of Asian Lois was), she can't be replaced as a white woman because the text acknowledges her Indian identity (her name, lines of dialogue like this, etc.) hence she's not interchangeable with whiteness. So this take has that going for it.

Where Lois Chaudhari still falls behind Girl Taking Over (and what it shares in common with American Alien) is yet again a sense of missed opportunities narratively.

In Superman: Secret Identity, a man named Clark Kent from Picketsville suddenly has Superman's powers. After years of being made fun of for his namesake, he suddenly is what everyone has been making fun of him for- and as he lives through life he slowly understands why fictional!Superman is the way he is. It's a great story but where it misses the mark for me is its failure to recognize Superman as an immigrant. Secret Identity's Clark isn't an alien immigrant, or a human immigrant, and is instead ostracized because of his name. Government baddies want to do experiments on him so he has to hide from them too. But then he meets city girl Lois Chaudhari, and they connect because people keep teasing them for their names and Lois knows what it's like to keep secrets because she,,, committed a crime as a teen once.

"I guess we're both dangerous felons, then. Public menaces."

Being hunted by the government and being experimented on isn't really the same as being caught shoplifting.

It works well enough as a connection but to me is a huge missed opportunity to have an Indian American relate to your Superman stand-in as an immigrant. To connect on a deeper level other than "people make fun of us for sharing names with fictional characters". Later in the story, Clark and Lois have twin daughters who are visibly Indian. They too, have Superman's powers. While we're treated extensively to the narrative showing us why Clark would hide his powers from the government wishing to seek harm on him, we never get to see what Clark's daughters have to deal with on top of being visibly non-white.

Superman as an alien immigrant is an anecdote in this story. Because after all, that's not what a white American man from Picketsville would find relatable about him, is it? I have the same thing to say about Secret Identity that I did with American Alien: "Clark isn’t the only American Alien in American Alien, if you catch my drift."

I think this story is the perfect encapsulation of the limits of a white writer. One of my hottest takes on Superman is that the best and most holistic take on his character doesn't exist in the white imagination. Take a look once more at the Spectrum of Asian Lois Lanes chart that I made. All save for Girl Taking Over were headed by white men (MAWS may have Asian directors and writers on their team but ultimately its pitch and main ideas are the brain child of Jake Wyatt, a white man).

People have taken issue with me saying this and assume that I mean white people can't write a good Superman story, and no. That's not what I'm saying. I like Superman: Secret Identity. I even like American Alien. But it's been 80 years of predominantly white writers of all backgrounds getting the chance to write Superman- and already multiple attempts at an Asian Lois- and yet it took until Gene Yang (and artists Gurihiru) with Smashes the Klan and Sarah Kuhn (and artist Arielle Jovellanos) with Girl Taking Over that I felt Superman's themes as an immigrant finally took center stage and weren't just a mention or anecdote.

In no way do I want to imply that getting writers of color or Asian writers specifically will mean you'll be guaranteed a great Superman story. I'm against promoting the idea that diverse talent is infallible or tokenizing and essentializing them in such a way. What I am saying is that the best and most holistic story on Superman as an alien immigrant isn't even a goal in the white imagination. Immigrant Superman doesn't live in that mind. He doesn't pay rent there. He doesn't stop by to visit. And no, Superman creators Shuster and Siegel wouldn't have written that story either. Superman may have been the "Champion of the Oppressed" from another planet under their pen, but he would never have related to or have had immigrant solidarity with America's perpetual foreigners the way Smashes the Klan portrayed him as having. Superman's creators were too busy writing Slam Bradley to be able to write that kind of Superman.

The appeal of these cape characters for me, is the process of adaptation. Seeing them be handed off to someone else with different life experience. Seeing them bring a whole new perspective that surpasses even the creator's intentions on their character. That's what makes these characters rich and worthy of constant revisits. I just think that people of different backgrounds should be able to get as many chances as white men have with writing Superman and his cast of characters.

#ramblings #media criticism #lois lane #jesncin dc meta #“I'm an Asian Lois Lane scholar” i say like a liar bcuz I refuse to watch maws s2 or read the maws comics cuz I value my mental health #also did this clark ever think of writing under a pseudonym if being clark kent bothered him so much idk #maybe his agent was like “it's good for marketing omg keep it” but lol it is a choice to change ya name if u wanna

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kwanisms · 1 month ago

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Kinktober 「10:02」 — s.mingi

» ateez menu | mingi menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ werehyena!Mingi × fem!reader wc: 4k summary: Y/N hasn’t been intimate with her boyfriend but not by choice. Every time she tries, he always ends up pushing her away and its starting to affect her confidence. After an argument, Mingi finally blurts out just why he's been pushing her away this whole time. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: food consumption, insecurities, past trauma, breakups; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! taglist for kinktober is CLOSED. Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i promise the next thing i write for Mingi will make him dom. I already promised @yoonguurt and i will keep that promise but here is some sub mingi for the sub mingi enthusiasts lol also, if anyone is curious, i'm using STRIPED HYENAS as a reference for his werecreatures. NOT SPOTTED. Spotted hyenas are fucking insane to learn about. seriously, if you're curious, look up spotted hyena reproduction. it's literally unreal. anyway, the next part is for Chris' birthday and includes our fave aussies from stray kids! notice how i said aussies 😉 stay tuned for that and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), facesitting (m receiving), mommy kink, oral (f receiving), handjob (m receiving), sub!Mingi, dom!Reader, use of pet names (hers: mommy, ma’am; his: baby boy, sweetheart, etc), and I think that’s all but let me know if I missed any. kinks: facesitting + mommy kinkdialogue prompt: ❛❛ Sit on my face. ❜❜

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When you first met Mingi, you were intimidated by his presence, taking him as a very imposing and menacing but once you got to know him, you discovered it was merely in his looks alone. Standing at 6’1 with broad shoulders, he was a physically imposing man.

Adding to that aura of dominance was the fact that he wasn’t entirely human. You learned early on that Mingi was a werecreature. Specifically of the hyena variety. It was something you were new to, having never met another werecreature before him.

When things shifted in your relationship with him from platonic to romantic, Mingi was quick to let you know everything he felt was important about his condition. When he transformed, when his heat was, and what he usually did during his transformation and how long it lasted.

When his first transformation since making your relationship official happened, you had seen him the day before, making him a variety of meals for afterwards as you knew he would be too tired and weak to do it himself. His first cycle passed by without issue and soon it became part of your monthly routine to go over the day before, check on him, make him a week’s worth of meals and kiss him goodbye until you saw him a couple days later.

For almost a year, this was the norm for you. Something that had also unintentionally become the norm was not being intimate with Mingi. At all. Sure you’d kissed and even made out but as things got heated, Mingi always managed to push you away, trying to change the course of the evening or even leaving before you got a word in.

You’d never gone beyond a few lingering touches and it was slowly chipping away at your confidence and self esteem. It made you feel unwanted and unattractive despite being the center of male attention when you went out with your friends to the clubs once a month.

You didn’t want the attention of some random guy at the bar trying to buy you enough drinks to forget your own name and end up in bed with him only to regret it the following morning.

You wanted the attention of your boyfriend.

You’d tried speaking to Mingi about this, expressing your concerns but each time he managed to change the subject, steering it in an entirely different direction and avoiding the conversation altogether.

You didn’t expect sex from him. Of course he could have very specific reasons for not wanting to have sex with you but it was the fact he wouldn’t discuss it with you. All you wanted was a reason, something as simple as he wasn’t ready and you would drop it but you didn’t even get that.

And so, after being rejected all day on one of your rare days off, you wanted to find out why your boyfriend didn’t want to have sex with you.

You let out a sigh, keeping your eyes on the TV as you sat on the couch with Mingi sitting a cushion’s distance away, his massive frame taking up the opposite side of the couch from you. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way his eyes were wandering your body, focusing on the exposed skin of your thighs.

He often would look but never touch. You wanted so desperately for him to touch you in more ways than guiding you out of his way when he was trying to pass you or cupping the back of your head so he could kiss your forehead. You want his hands everywhere.

You heard Mingi clear his throat and you quickly focused your gaze back on the TV. You had no idea what was playing, having lost interest in it a long time ago as you were too busy fantasizing about your massive boyfriend’s hands all over you.

“I’m gonna grab a drink. You want one?” he asked as he got up from the couch, towering over you. “Sure,” you said softly as he nodded and moved around the couch to the kitchen behind where you sat. You heard the fridge open and close and a few moments later, he returned with two cold cans of cola, handing one to you and sitting back down.

“You don’t have to sit all the way over there,” you said as you cracked open your can and took a sip. Mingi turned to look at you wide-eyed. “Oh, uh I’m okay over here,” he said nervously. You set your can down, settling back against the couch, disappointment settling in your chest. “Fine,” you muttered, picking up the remote and changing the channel.

Mingi turned to look at you, taking in your profile as you flipped through channels until you exasperatedly tossed the remote onto the couch between you. “You pick something,” you snapped, not looking at him. Your tone made him recoil internally, wondering why you were upset.

He picked up the remote and flipped through the stations until he found something to put it on. He set the remote on the coffee table as an uncomfortable silence fell over the two of you. He could tell you were thinking hard, something bothering you but you were working out a way to bring it up.

Mingi hated this. He hated fighting with you. He hated the silent treatment. He hated denying you. Earlier, when he’d arrived and sat on the couch, you had joined him while dinner was finishing cooking in the oven. What started as a few kisses turned into more as you straddled his lap, kissing him deeply as you started to grind against him.

Mingi wanted more than anything to let you have him right there on the couch but he was reminded of his past experiences. His previous partners who became weirded out upon learning that a man so strong and physically large was so submissive. He’d never been one to be a leader or in charge of anything and that extended to his preferences in the bedroom.

His relationships in the past failed because of his inability to take charge in not only the bedroom but in the relationship as well. He wasn’t comfortable with it but he really, really liked you, possibly even loved you, and he didn’t want to mess this up. He’d forced himself to take charge in some scenarios but he felt so out of his depth.

And when it came to intimacy with you, he wanted more than anything to be intimate, to give into his more carnal desires but his past trauma held him back and he ended up pushing you away just like earlier. He’d quickly pushed you off him before things go get too far and luckily for him the timer on the oven went off and he was saved for a little while longer.

He knew it was no way to conduct things and that he should have a serious conversation but he just never seemed to be ready because he felt that things would end if he was honest with you. He was trying to prolong the inevitable.

“Do you not like me or something?”

Your question caught him off guard as your words hung in the air, waiting for his response. He turned to look at you, taking in your profile as you sat there, arms crossed over your chest, one leg tucked under you. “What?” he asked stupidly. He shouldn’t have done that. He should have immediately refuted your claim but he was just so taken aback.

“Do you not like me?” you asked again, turning to look at him. Mingi hesitated. Of course he liked you. He loved you. His brows knitted together in confusion. “Of course I like you,” he replied, turning in his seat to look directly at you. “Then why do you always do this?” you asked.

“Do what?” Mingi asked, knowing it was the wrong thing to ask. He knew what you were talking about. Your eyes narrowed. “Always push me away when we start to get intimate.” Mingi felt his stomach sink, the same feelings of anxiety and dread that he always got when this topic came up, rising into his chest.

It was starting to get hot in the apartment. He needed fresh air.

“I need some air,” he said getting up.

“No,” you said, getting to your feet and following your boyfriend. “We’re not doing this again!”

Mingi sighed as he stopped abruptly, making you run into him before he turned. “I can’t have this conversation with you, really,” he said. “Why?” you asked, feeling a pang in your chest when he turned and started for the door. Panic rose up inside of you as you watched him grab his keys from the counter as he passed it. You don’t know what came over you but you weren’t about to let this go.

“Song Mingi, if you walk out that door, we are through!!”

He froze, hand on the doorknob as your voice rang through the apartment. His shoulders visibly relaxed before he turned to look at you, a look of shock on his face. “You’d break up with me over this?” he asked softly. You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know what you expect me to do!” you all but shouted at him.

“I’m trying to have a mature conversation with you but all you’ve done is shut me down. I just want to know why you don’t want me!” you said, the corners of your eyes burning as you fought back tears. “I… don’t want you?” Mingi asked, sounding confused. “When have I ever said I didn’t want you?” he asked, walking back into the living room.

“You didn’t have to say it!” you countered. “Every time we’re intimate, you always push me away before it gets too far. I could understand if you would explain to me that you aren’t ready or it was something else but you won’t even entertain a conversation about it with me!” You blinked away the tears and turned away from him, not wanting to let him see you cry.

“What else am I supposed to think?”

Silence fell over the two of you, punctuated only by the sound of the TV, forgotten in the midst of your argument. Maybe it was better to just let him go, let this all go. Maybe you’d be better off. You loved Mingi, you really did, but you never signed on for all of this. You knew getting involved with him was going to be a learning experience after he revealed his nature as a werecreature but to you, that was nothing.

The silence was broken by the sound of Mingi’s keys being set on the counter and the floor creaking as he walked towards where you stood. You felt his arms wrap around you, warmth from his body enveloping you as he rested his head on yours. “It’s not because I don’t want you,” he murmured, finally speaking.

“I want you so bad I can barely stand it,” he added. “I just don’t want to scare you off.” You turned in his arms to face him. “How would it scare me off?” you asked, looking at him with a confused expression, brows knitting together. “Because,” Mingi started, his voice faltering. “It’s embarrassing,” he continued. “You thought I would judge you?” you asked. Mingi shrugged.

“It’s happened in the past. The people I’ve dated didn’t want…” he trailed off. “Didn’t want what?” you asked, trying to coax it out of him. He sighed, throwing his head back to look up at the ceiling. “Someone like me,” he blurted out. You reached up, cupping the back of his neck and forcing him to look down at you. “What does that mean? Someone like you?”

“I’m not very… confident,” he started. You snorted. “Now that’s a damn lie,” you retorted. “You’re the most confident man I know,” you added. Mingi shook his head. “Confident is the wrong word,” he admitted. “I’m not… I don’t like to be… in charge.”

Realization dawned on you and you let out a sigh. “You’re not dominant,” you stated. Mingi nodded, shutting his eyes and bracing for what you assumed was some sort of angry response. It nearly broke your heart that he felt he had to lie and hide this from you because of the reactions of his past relationships. You could understand his hesitation. But you weren’t like his previous partners.

“Mingi,” you started, grabbing the front of his shirt when he tried to turn away. “Yah,” you said sternly. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you!” the tone in your voice must have surprised him. You’d never sounded so commanding before. At least not to him. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered quickly.

“I wish you had just told me, instead of hiding it from me,” you explained, cupping his cheek. “If you had told me, we could have solved this a lot sooner instead of tiptoeing around it.” Mingi leaned into your touch. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I thought that if I told you, it might make you leave me.”

You pulled him into a kiss. “I almost broke up with you because I thought you weren’t attracted to me,” you said softly. “This is why we need to communicate,” you continued. “I’m not like your previous partners, you know this.” Mingi nodded, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I know,” he murmured. “And I never should have compared you to them. I was just…”

“Scared,” you said. “I get it. It can be hard to break that cycle of trauma.”

“It’s not weird though,” you continued, taking his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. “I don’t mind taking control,” you added, smiling at him as you pushed the door open with your back. “How about you lay down and let me take care of you. How does that sound, baby?”

Mingi nodded wordlessly as you guided him over to the bed, turning so you could push him down onto it. He landed on his butt with a soft oof as you moved to shut the door and returned to him. “Let me take care of you,” you repeated, slowly kneeling in front of him, hand sliding down his chest to the waistband of his sweats.

You slipped your fingers under the elastic pulling it forward slightly before letting it snap back against his stomach, making him gasp. You chuckled softly as you grabbed the sides of the waistband and started tugging. He lifted his hips, letting you pull the material all the way down his thighs and to the floor where it pooled around his ankles. He sat in his underwear, waiting for your next move.

You could see he was starting to grow hard but you knew Mingi’s body, even if you hadn’t seen it fully. You knew that your boyfriend had a massive cock and from what you could see now, half hard, you were correct in your assumptions. You pressed your hand over the bulge in his boxers, making him his, a shudder run up his spine as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Does that feel good?” you asked, stroking him slowly, watching his expressions. “Y-yes,” he whined, hips starting to roll up into your touch. You could feel him growing harder and harder by the minute and decided to take it a step further. You slipped your hand into his underwear, pulling his cock free from the material. Wrapping your fingers around the base, you started to slowly pump your hand up and down.

“Fuck,” your boyfriend hissed. “Feels so good, babe.”

You let go, spitting into your hand and resumed stroking him, your saliva working as a lubricant and moving faster with ease. He was almost completely hard by this point. “Babe, please,” Mingi whined. “What is it?” you asked softly, your speed never faltering as you looked up at your boyfriend. “I wanna be inside you,” he whined, hips bucking.

You clicked your tongue as you slowed your hand for a moment. “No, baby,” you answered. Mingi whined again, shaking under your touch. “Please, mommy,” he gasped and you felt your cheeks burn. That was a new one. You’d never been called that before but you weren’t about to comment on it. Not when you wanted to focus on making Mingi feel good. You could discuss it later.

“Sorry baby,” you said softly. “Only good boys get their dicks wet.” Mingi whined, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “It’s literally wet right now,” he countered but you shushed him, stroking him faster and making him remove his shirt. He did as you asked, tossing the tee to the floor.

“Please, baby. I’ll be good, I promise,” Mingi begged. It was tempting to give into him but why the rush? “Not tonight, baby boy,” you cooed. “Maybe in the morning.” You continued to stroke him, his hips bucking up to meet your movements as you drew him closer to his high.

You felt his cock throb and twitch in your hand and you knew he was close. “Just a little more,” you cooed. “Be a good boy and cum.”

As if on command, Mingi let out a moan and you angled his cock away from you, watching as thin ropes of his milky white cum shot out of him, landing on his toned stomach, contrasting with his tanned skin. You continued to pump him slowly, making sure to squeeze every last drop out of him.

“What a good boy you are,” you said sweetly as you got to your feet, ignoring the gusset of your panties sticking to you as you climbed onto the bed. “I bet that felt really good, didn’t it?” you asked, to which he nodded. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” you said, starting to get up but his grip on you was strong. He muttered something that you couldn’t make out.

You leaned over to hear him better. “What was that, baby?” you asked. “You need to speak up.”

“I said,” Mingi started, licking his lips. “Sit on my face.” You let out a chuckle. “It’s okay, baby,” you said softly, caressing his cheek. “You don’t need to do anything. We can clean up and go again tomorrow if you really want to.” Mingi shook his head. “No,” he said, grabbing your wrist, moving to lace his fingers with yours. “Please, Y/N,” he whined. “P-please, mommy. I want you to sit on my face!”

You stared at him, nibbling on your bottom lip for a moment before you relented. “Fine,” you said. “But no cleaning or wiping your mess away until I cum, do you understand me?” you asked, leaning over to look into his eyes. He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

You got off the bed, tugging your shorts and underwear down and letting them fall to the floor, stepping out of them and then returning to Mingi on the bed. He waited eagerly as you straddled his chest. “Before we do this. You have to tell me if you can’t breathe. Tap my thigh three times if you need air,” you instructed. Mingi shook his head. “I don’t need air,” he replied. “I just need your pussy on my tongue, right now.”

You reached behind you, grabbing his sensitive, soft cock. He let out a whimper before nodding. “Yes mommy,” he said quickly. You let go and scooted forward until your knees were on either side of his head. Mingi’s hand moved up to cup your ass. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Just sit down.”

You lowered yourself onto his waiting tongue and let out a moan as he immediately wrapped his lips around your clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue, the room filling with lew slurping sounds. You reached down, combing your fingers through his hair gently. You felt him flatten his tongue against your clit, licking up and down slowly before he started to circle the nub with the tip.

You let out a moan, eyes fluttering shut as he continued to make out with your sex, ignoring the wetness that seeped from you onto his lips and chin. He could careless and lapped away at your core, fingers digging into the plush of your ass, pulling you down and close as possible.

His tongue traced down to your hole, teasing the entrance before he pulled you flush against him, his tongue wiggling into your pussy. You let out a gasp, feeling his nose bump against your clit as he tasted everything you had to give him. His tongue slipped out and was back on your clit, flicking against it in quick succession, each flick making your body jerk violently as he built you up to your climax.

Your fingers in his hair tightened as your hips started to move involuntarily. Mingi gently pushed you up slightly. “Yes, ride my tongue,” he murmured, slurring his words before pulling you back down on his flat tongue, letting you grind against him. You let go of his hair, leaning over to place your hands against the mattress as you started to roll your hips, grinding your clit against his tongue.

Your body shook, thighs squeezing his head as your orgasm washed over you, a wave of euphoria spreading throughout your body as you continued to ride out your high. Finally, you shuddered, feeling the effects of your exertion in the burning of your thighs but also in the sensitive bundle of nerves your boyfriend was still licking slowly.

You finally pulled away, lifting off his face and swinging your leg over to kneel beside him. The lower half of his face was coated in your release, shining in the low light of your bedroom.

“You are a mess,” you said with a chuckle before getting up and heading into your ensuite bathroom to grab a clean washcloth, wetting it with warm water and returning to the bed. Mingi held out his hand but you pushed it away and started wiping his face clean before wiping down his stomach, cleaning it of his release.

Once you were satisfied he was no longer sticky, you tossed the towel into the hamper as Mingi’s arms circled your waist, pulling you onto his naked lap and smiling up at you with a very tired and lazy smile. You felt his cock prod at your thigh and you chuckled, running your fingers through his hair before kissing him. “You’re hard again,” you noted between kisses.

“Mmm,” he hummed in answer. “I could go again,” he offered. “But I’m also very tired.” You nodded. “My thighs are burning,” you admitted. “How about we rest and then maybe later we can go again. Maybe I’ll even let you fuck me,” you said, pulling him into a slow, languid kiss that was messy and nothing but tongue. “Have I been a good boy?” he asked, perking up slightly, making you laugh.

“Yes,” you answered. “You’ve been a very good boy,” you added. Mingi pulled you into a kiss, grabbing your hips and pushing you down so his cock pressed against your clit. “I could go right now,” he said eagerly. “You won’t even have to do anything,” he added. You cupped his cheek, pressing a kiss to his lips. “If you promise I won’t have to lift a finger,” you said.

Mingi nodded excitedly. “I promise!” he said eagerly. You nodded, nose bumping against his. “Alright,” you replied, kissing him and pulling back, resisting the urge to laugh when he pouted, trying to chase your lips. “Show me what you can do, big boy.”

Keeping his hold on you, Mingi shifted from sitting to his knees and laid you back against the pillows before removing your top, dropping it to the floor and cupping your chest over your bralette. He kissed down your chest, pushing your bralette up and taking one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before kissing down your stomach, moving your legs over his shoulders as he drew level with your cunt.

“Will you let me fuck you without a condom?” he asked suddenly. You reached down, brushing his hair back. “One step at a time,” you said. “Make me cum with your mouth and then we’ll discuss condoms afterwards. Sound good?” you asked. Mingi nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

You nodded, leaning back against the pillows. “Don’t worry about rushing,” you reminded him.

“We have all night.”

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