#but i imagine a lot of people doing this are the people who discovered them through hatchetfield

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon: interlude - a tango in barcelona | formula one imagine

interlude: a tango in barcelona

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

dancing around her teammate on and off track, y/n looks to boogie her troubles away.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

may 2020, spain.

life at mclaren hadn’t started the way y/n had hoped. the days were long and surprisingly quiet, the latter mostly due to her teammate and his aversion to acknowledging her existence. she was tired already this weekend and they hadn’t even raced yet.

the barcelona heat was making her race suit stick to her already just walking to the grid for the national anthem. “it’s hot as balls” y/n whined as she slipped between max and george while the choir set up ahead of them.

“oh my sweet summer child, we haven’t even gotten to singapore yet,” max said taking off his ice vest and fastening it to y/n.

“ugh don’t remind me,” y/n wiped more sweat off of her brow, “i think singapore might kill me.”

george laughed, moving his umbrella to the left so it covered y/n as well, “singapore is a baptism by fire, but you’ve done well so far this season so i don’t think you’ll have too hard a time.”

y/n smiled up at the taller brit, “thanks georgie, maybe if you’re such an expert in singapore you’ll be able to catch me.” she punctuated it with a wink, george nearly dropping the umbrella in response.

“do you mind? you nearly took my eye out with this thing!” max hissed at george, flicking the umbrella. george lifted the umbrella to get it out of eye range of the dutchman, who in turn saw it as an invitation to seek refuge in the shade.

“no way verstappen, this umbrella is for pretty people only,” george grabbed y/n’s hand and moved them a couple steps away.

“if that was so, only y/n would be allowed under it beanstalk.”

“if my height is the only thing you can think to insult me about, i can live.”

“oh believe me there’s a lot more stored up, i just wouldn’t want to give you any inspiration for when you take out a backmarker and blame everyone but yourself.”

y/n sighed dramatically, “already? i thought you two were going to cool it down this season. i don’t even understand how you have a rivalry, you’re nowhere near him on track george…” george let out a scandalised squeal, “oh my bad george, you know what i meant.”

“i think what y/n means is that she doesn’t rate you ‘mr saturday’”.

as george went to bite back but the loud horns of the national anthem cut their quarrel off early. y/n fought to keep her laugh in throughout the national anthem, seeing george seething in her peripheral vision. he was so easy to rattle it was practically a pastime of half the grid at this point.

before george could get a dig back in, y/n and max were back in deep conversation, discussing their approach to turn two with just minutes until the formation lap. he yearned to be the one that y/n spilled her tips, tricks and secrets to but like most of his life, the dutchman had beaten him to that honour. now he knew how lando felt.

lando, george and alex had bonded long before 2018, but their three-way title fight in formula two brought them closer rather than forcing them apart. george cherished that friendship, he found it invaluable to have two of his closest friends with him as they entered the cutthroat world of formula one - he just wished he could’ve been that person for y/n.

lando didn’t often articulate it well, but george understood his curly-haired friend’s struggles. lando had gushed all off season about having y/n as his teammate, chatting animatedly about potential roadtrips, shared flights and sleepovers before it was all snuffed out in a moment. george always suspected that lando felt more about their friend than he let on (or thought he let on). once he had thought it was a victim of circumstance, teenage boys discovering what these new hormones were doing to their body did tend to fixate on the one girl in their midst. but as they grew up, that puppy love crush didn’t seem to wain, not that anyone else around them seemed to notice.

a single comment from one max verstappen crushed that. a late night discord call between the rookie trio and max had naturally seen the topic of y/n arise. lando, as usual, started to wax lyrical about the season ahead, with his vision for their teammate relationship constructed in his head.

“mate, we’ve already started.”

“huh?” lando’s voice stuttered over the call, he cleared his throat, “what do you mean?”

“y/n and i,” max continued, “we’ve already started doing sim runs together, watching onboards and all that jazz.” the dutchman said it so casually, unaware of lando’s imminent heartbreak - george’s too, he just hid it better.

“but why? i’m going to be her teammate, not you? why would she even use your sim, she’s racing for mclaren next year not red bull.”

not noticing the path they were hurtling down, max dug his foot in, “no offence lando, but if y/n wants my tips, i’m going to give it to her. it’s noble for you to want to look out for her, but realistically what tips could you give her that are better than mine… i am the only one here who has actually won a race.”

alex loudly coughed, stopping max before he could continue. “it’s getting late, maybe we should call it a night?”

“it’s nine o’clock?” max questioned.

“no, i’m tired,” lando let out an undoubtedly fake yawn, “i think it’s time for bed.”

“okay suit yourselves,” max said, going back to his iracing, “lando, don’t take it too personally that she chose me. we’ve been friends for so long, we don’t know anything but each other.”

“i’ve known her just as long as you!”

it was starting to get a little heated and despite alex and george trying to interject, the two kept going.

“you may have known her just as long, but you don’t know her. we’ve been there for each other at our lowest and our highest. it’s not a competition. i honestly hope she comes to you next season, i don’t trust your team as far i can throw them. it will be good to have someone in her corner.”

“oh well if you’re that magnificent then why can’t you be her white knight all the way from red bull, huh?”

“you know what lando, we’ll talk about this again once you’ve shaken off this weird primal urge you have to ‘claim’ her. a piece of advice, she won’t like that.”

“oh you insufferable little shit-”

“goodbye everyone!” alex interjected, kicking max out of the call.

“what the fuck was that lando?”

“you heard him, posterising, peacocking and then having the gall to say that i’m being territorial over y/n.”

george sighed, his affection for the same girl was going to have to be buried even deeper after this. “max wasn’t peacocking about y/n, lando. if anything he was showing off his wins rather than her,” alex tried to reason.

“no! he can’t let us - can’t let me have anything. it’s always been this way and with y/n it’s like he knows deep down that i want her so he has to have her instead. he’s clinging on to her and shoving it in my face - it’s not my fault he has a shit dad and he attached himself to her because she was the only one not afraid of him - so why am i being punished for it?”

lando’s outburst rendered alex and george silent. the older one was horrified to say the least, the season hadn’t even started and lando’s jealousy was already out of hand.

“lando, that was too far…” alex said softly.

“no! he thinks that because he has a shitty sob story that he can just claim her? she’s her own person!”

“right. i’m going to stop you there before you say something that’ll make me hate you for real. you need to get over what ever the fuck this is so you can be a normal fucking human being next season,” alex tried to reason with lando.

“i am in love with her!”

“are you? or are you in love with the thought of what could happen? have you actually stopped and wondered whether y/n likes you or even likes men? for someone so protective over her, you haven’t considered her feelings too much.”

lando has the foresight to look a little guilty. george stayed silent, he knows alex is suspicious of him too, but that can of worms can wait until another day.

“you need to get a life and calm down. max is one of your best friends and i know deep down you didn’t mean a word you said tonight but you need to get a grip before you say any of that in front of him or y/n because i’m sorry but i won’t be stopping them if they try to hit you.”

lando doesn’t say anything, but the guilty look on his face says enough.

“goodnight.”

the call ended there and was never brought up again. george watched y/n waltz back towards the mclaren garage, a big gap between her and lando. there had been no more outbursts since that night but if what george overheard from daniel, lando had still managed to completely screw himself. was george that angry at that news? not really.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

the race was pretty uneventful, barcelona usually was. y/n started in sixth and managed to pip charles to fifth after ferrari screwed up his pitstop once again. despite her deep love for sangria, y/n didn’t really feel like leaving her hotel room after she had scrubbed all of the sweat and grime off in the shower.

she was pleased with her points haul, smiling to herself in debrief as they analysed lando’s first lap incident with pierre gasly that lando just insisted was no fault of his own…

her ring tone invaded her peaceful evening, the name ‘albono’ flashing up on her phone. pressing accept,

“how can i help you on this fine evening, mr albon?”

“well i find myself in this fine dancing establishment, looked around and thought it was crying out for a little y/n y/ln action.”

“dancing you say?”

“i’m 100% serious, sebastian of all people has dragged also to a bar where they’re attempting to teach us the tango…”

“oh i love the tango! it’s my favourite dance on strictly…”

“so what i’m hearing is that i should get a tequila sunrise in preparation for your arrival?”

y/n sighed, “yes you may.”

“score! i’ll send you the address and an uber. see you soon.”

so there goes her quiet night in, but who wouldn’t love the chance to tango with your close friends in under the stars? and she had packed her little red number… maybe the y/n who packed that suitcase all those days knew something current y/n didn’t.

y/n elected to skip most of her makeup routine, her skin sensitive from all the sweat in her balaclava, swiping on some mascara, lip gloss and a healthy dose of blush. like alex said, the uber was waiting for her outside the lobby.

the outside of the bar looked closer to a college dive bar than somewhere you’d expect to find a group of formula one drivers, but she suspects that’s why sebastian chose it.

“buenes noches senorita,” fernando alonso gave her a spin on entry.

“gracias nando,” she curtsied in front of the spaniard, drawing a laugh out of the elder driver, “i am sorry to cut this short, but i am tired and i fear i have already promised my one dance to another.”

“how will i ever recover?”

“i think you’ll find a way old man.”

“you wound me, but alex is waiting for you by the bar.”

y/n made her way through the bar, spotting several drivers caught up in their dancing lessons from the locals. she tapped alex on the shoulder, with the tall driver turning, wielding her tequila sunrise.

“nice of you to turn up at last,” alex teased, handing her the drink.

“i’ll have you know i was snuggled up ready for some netflix action before you called.”

“you came all this way for a dance with little ol’ me?”

“of course, alex. i have missed you.”

“i have missed you too, the red bull stuff is piling up and i have been neglecting my big brother duties, i’m sorry. not that it seems to be effecting your rookie season too much.”

“don’t worry about me alex, i’m proud of you and what you’re doing at red bull, even if they’re being unreasonably hard on you.”

alex led her to the middle of the dance floor and put one hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder. they started to move to the music,

“i just miss when it was more laidback. i barely have time to stop between sim sessions and media duties and performance meetings. i miss sitting in your driver room laughing at your instagram private messages and watching stupid adam sandler movies.”

alex spun her and as she came back to him she said, “we can still do that alex! you don’t have to be alone, we can still watch adam sandler movies and ignore calls from helmut.”

alex smiled at her as the music slowed down.

“i wish i was here for you more in your rookie season,” alex laments but y/n interjects, “it’s only the fourth race. you’re focused on you and i wouldn’t want anything else. there’s time for us to find our way back to each other. you're a brother to me, like blood, there’s nothing that can destroy that bond.”

“i’m sorry lando is being a prick.”

“it is what it is.”

“no it’s not. we had each other last year, he should be there for you.”

“it’s whatever, i have max, i have you, i’ll survive.”

the music came to an end. the two embraced but when they broke apart y/n started heading for the exit, picking up max on the way through, the dutchman having already booked them an uber. y/n turned and waved to alex, she meant it when she said it was just one dance. she made a ‘call me sign’ and mouthed ‘adam sandler’ before rushing out of the bar with max.

alex turned and made his way to george who was still nursing his first drink at the bar. george didn’t respond when alex prompted him. the thai man nudged george laughing about how ‘y/n knows how to make a short and sweet appearance’ but still got nothing.

“you’re not seriously angry about a tango are you george?”

“no.”

“you’re a terrible liar,” alex whispered, “not as bad as lando but terrible nonetheless.”

“at least i’m not taking it out on her like lando.”

“no, you just use max as target pratice on your dart board for shits and giggles.”

“whatever.”

“fine, deal with it how you wanna big boy, but if you turn out like lando right now, i’ll be down two best friends and up two murder charges.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

fin.

note: my first interlude! @deviltsunoda and i came up with these ideas so i could write shorter things while i have work and you guys still get fed! so enjoy this lil exploration into y/n and alex's friendship (they are so precious to me!) and why lando is being such an asshole... enjoy! the weekend should bring chapter four.

taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998 @xsilkesworld @justaf1girl @daddyslittlevillain @evans-dejong @abq654 @elizamoe133 @wierdflowerpower @t1nkerbel1 @okcurran @raizelchrysanderoctavius @skepvids @multilovebot @fernandoalonso14 @jules-kup-172 @m4xgirlie @rorabelle15 @minkyungseokie @formula1-motogpfan @peterholland04 @miureiz @freyathehuntress @lighttsoutlewis @aleatorio1234 @chaosandevelyn @blueberry648579 @dog-and-cat-person230 @fastandcurious16 @obxstiles @cosmicwintr @becca388510 @savagittariuspy

[docholligay]

How does one start with perfumes? Like good ones? I got burned as a teen by getting like 3 different basic cheap things a year from aunts and grandparents that claimed to be different scents but never seemed like they were, but realized that might have been oversaturation and my life's adults not wanting to put in effort. Would like to start exploring them properly now, years on from that. Is there books? Primers? Can I mail for a scratch-and-sniff card from fancy makers?

Perfume is one of the things that is genuinely difficult to get into, it has a high bar to entry, so it's not your imagination. That's why most people just wear whatever they started wearing as a teenager. Most things I encourage: fitness, cooking, fashion don't require NEARLY as much work or cash as people pretend, but perfume pretty genuinely does.

ANYWAY, doesn't make it impossible at all, I just wanted to let you know you are not nuts.

I very much have my own preferences at this point, and generally prefer more niche perfumes. But I started with just designer perfumes! Most people do. You can go to most Sephoras and just spray perfumes from the testers onto the strips. This is a great place to start seeing what you're drawn to! Everyone is different. And you may change as you get deeper into the hobby.

Once you start looking at notes you're drawn to, you can get samples on cards! You can just buy these on ebay. MAKE SURE THEY ARE CARDED. This is a way to help make sure you're getting what you're getting. EVen better, sephora has designer discovery kits with a voucher for a full size

You can also just ask on craigslist or FB marketplace or whatever and see if anyone has perfume samples they're getting rid off, but no one sells stuff to get rid of it anymore it seems, it's all to turn a profit ahaha. If you were coming to visit me I would give you the bargain i do to basically anyone who visits--feel free to use any of my perfumes while you're here and give them a shot, I own both men's and women's.

Start seeing what you like on you! What notes are you drawn to, does your skin pull a scent sweet, or smoky, or whatever? If your ultimate aim is to find a perfume or two to wear every day (I generally recommend a summer and winter perfume for people. Winter perfumes can be stronger and headier, you generally want something lighter for summer) this is easy enough.

I really recommend DecantX or The Perfumed Court for buying decants, which are basically large samples. This is a a lot of what i have. I'm not much of a full bottle buyer! The Perfumed Court has goddamn nearly everything you could possibly be looking for, DecantX has great pricing. Don't bother with shit like Scentbird, it's a scam and you would be better served to order 17 dollars worth of stuff from decantX every month until you found your bliss.

If you find a HOUSE you are interested in, they very often have a sample set to buy. One of my favorites is Frederic Malle, and they have samples and discovery sets. Etat Libre D'Orange is a pretty boundary-pushing house, but they have a pretty reasonably cheap discovery kit.

It's taken me years to get to the point I am at, so don't stress out too much. I wore just, Flowerbomb for years, until i discovered there were much more vintage style straight florals out there. Don't be afraid to experiment! I love florals, and they are my main feminine wear, but I also love Tom Ford's Ebene Fume, which is rich and smoky. Have fun with it!

[itsaboutspies]

Absolutely love that the hatchetfield series brought so many new fans to starkid but I wish people would let non hatchetfield things be non hatchetfield and not try relate it back to it all the time

[shiraishi--kanade]

Another thing I need pjsk fandom to realize:

1) there are literal 10 years old (and younger) children in this fandom;

2) the percentage of these children in the fandom is MUCH, MUCH higher than every single one of you here on tumbrl think it is.

"why do people write so much for popular characters?" "why do people write for kudos only?" aside from the fact that the "write for yourself" is a self-perpetuating issue in every fandom and the fact that every writer deserves engagement with their works, it's because there are kids here. Who want to fit in and get praised for their creativity. Which they can only achieve by writing for popular stuff. So maybe take that into account.

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

sooooo……. there’s some ConversationTM* going around the theology (and adjacent) girlies tonight and it’s got me very intrigued—are there really more options than just Calvinist/Arminian?? bc I’ve always been raised with this idea that those are The Two Options regarding salvation theology and how exactly it all plays out. but apparently that’s…. not the case??

Iwill add that yes, Molinism is a thing that exists, and I know of exactly one guy who’s a theologian and philosopher and who believes in that lol. it’s not exactly a super common alternative to the others. and then I do believe Catholics have a slightly separate view as well, but I’m mainly just talking about soteriology within Protestant theology here anyway.

*(I won’t say ‘DiscourseTM’ bc that seems more antagonistic than what I’m seeing around here rn; everything seems to be in good faith and just for the sake of pointing out minor discrepancies atm)

[milfdarthrevan]

#reblogging my own posts#free to use#everyone should check out the notes on this post yall have great ideas#silmarillion#elves#valinor#bonus points: no one ever officially cancelled the decree making Formenos and its surroundings the lands of Feanor and his kin#Caranthir ir Amrod or whoever is now the liege lord of several thousand people he never met#they mostly think it's cool - a real Ancient Kinslayer in the ruined city! how Authentic (tm)!#they don't really listen to his orders but will help clean out a house for him and pay some taxes/admittance fees to the theme park#and sure he can represent them in council in Tirion if he wants; they've all been ignoring the city and will continue to do so

Elves born in the Second and Third Ages are used to having the ruins of earlier eras scattered around the landscape being Aesthetic, and are disappointed that there aren’t any in Valinor.

So they deliberately build cities, attack them with siege weaponry, and abandon them. It only takes around two hundred years to get that Haunted Vibe!

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[honeyhotteoks]

lessons in intimacy (k.ys)

summary: you didn't mean to actually meet the man who's audio porn was single handedly getting you off every night, but you do.

note: this has been a looooong time coming and is dedicated to one of my best friends, grace. 💗 i hope everyone enjoys this chaotic smut fest.... also i've recently discovered that porn is actually illegal to produce or consume in korea? so suspend your disbelief for this fic lol

warnings: camboy!yeosang/barista!yeosang x fem!reader, it's a smut-a-thon barely a plot in sight featuring - nsfw/audio porn, guided masturbation, female masturbation, male masturbation, lots and lots of orgasms, use of dildo, nipple play, one night stand dynamics except they kind of fall for each other, big and i mean big dick yeosang, oral sex (f receiving), gratuitous squirting, fingering, thigh riding/grinding, protected and unprotected sex (do not do this they're being hella dumb), rough sex, maaaaaajor praise play he says good girl more times than i can count, so much use of 'baby', plus pretty girl/babygirl, absolute pleasure soft dom yeosang of our dreams, reader literally passes out from coming you're welcome

pairings: yeosang x reader

genre: smut and more smut, where's the plot???

word count: 14.5K

additional note: yeosang owns a cafe in this fic called ongozisin, it's a real cafe in seoul and you can check out their ig here! the vibes are truly so yeosang i can't even articulate it, so i just wanted to share this for the extra visual!

Paid porn for women has tiers. You stumble headfirst into this realization with your fingers stuffed inside yourself and your body slick with sweat, and there’s nothing that takes you right out of your frantic self care session than a request for your credit card number and a terms of service page. 

Your chest is heaving, legs shaking, and you feel your orgasm slip right through your fingers as you skim over his Fansly page. You should have just skipped to another one of his free audios on Pornhub like you always do, but this week was long and stressful and slightly emotionally fraught, and there’s only so many times you can ignore his husky little ad at the end of the audio file inviting you to check out the full, uncut content. 

“Jesus,” You breathe, pushing yourself up in the bed and letting your phone drop to the side as you recover your breath. 

Are you really going to do this? Are you really going to pay for porn? The internet is full of it, spilling over from every angle with any little thing you can imagine. There’s a reason Rule 34 exists, people are horny and people love attention, so if you can fathom it there’s free porn of it. 

And yet, nothing ever, ever gets you there like he does, and you’ve never even seen his face. 

You glance down at your phone again and you see his familiar header image, a deeply contrasted black and white header of tangled white sheets, and his username striking across the corner in neon green. fromryu. This is what drew you in initially, the simplicity of it all. You were sick of skimming through all of the men making porn for women with names like ‘TheMasterDominant’, ‘Your_Daddy’, or ‘forherpleasureee’ and then just listening to them groan in your ear and call you a slut for fifteen minutes. That might work for some, but it definitely doesn’t work for you. 

Ryu was different, is different. His audios are a mix of scenario based role-plays and straight forward guided masturbation for women, and you’re pretty sure he comes right along with you when you listen, but it’s just not the same.

You’ve fucked yourself to every single one of his free audios. Some of them more than once, some of them several times, if you’re being honest. You’ve always ignored his ads, because he gives so much content away for free you can’t imagine what would be behind a paywall that would get you off harder, until today. 

Your brain just couldn’t get there. You’ve heard him chuckle that chuckle before, say that line before, coax you into orgasm with those exact words before, and you need more. 

Your credit card is firmly in your hand before you can give it another thought, and with a fluttering stomach you tuck yourself into a robe and back into bed to pick a tier. With a long sip of a fresh glass of wine you lean back in your pillows and read through his welcome page. 

His tiers make you smirk, he’s funny.

Third base, full uncut audios and one special audio per month just for subscribers – $4.99/month

Just the tip, uncut audios, one special audio per month, and access to a private discord server where subscribers can make audio request submissions – $9.99/month

Every inch (and more), uncut audios, exclusive audios, access to discord, exclusive video content, and access to a private Snapchat - $24.99/month

In for a penny, in for a pound, you guess. 

You click on ‘Every inch (and more)’ and plug in your card numbers before you have a second to rethink your decision. You really hope you don’t get hit with a fraud alert that you have to explain to some poor customer service representative. 

The wheel spins, the charge goes through, and suddenly you’re in. Your mouth has never been so dry. 

There’s dozens of videos, dozens. For every audio you’ve listened to on Pornhub, there’s a video that goes with it, and for every free piece of content there’s two times as much paid video content. $24.99 was nothing compared to how many hours of content you’re suddenly sifting through. 

There’s a common thread across every video though, you can already tell from the thumbnails, Ryu still never shows his face. Almost every thumbnail is the same, a white wall and a charcoal gray couch, and a man wearing oversized black sweatpants and a tight black athletic shirt. 

His knees are parted, legs spread open and casual, and his hands rest clasped between them. You swallow thickly at the sight of his arms. He’s built. His hands are so good looking you think idly that he should just be modeling watches or something, it’s ridiculous how nice they are. His skin is tanned, veins snaking up his forearms, and silver rings across several of his long, thick fingers. Can the sight of a man’s hands make you come? Your aching clit throbs. 

You skim through the video titles and tags to try and select one and your stomach twists. His videos are even more varied than the free content he posts and organized so well you think you might be in love with him already. 

There’s a folder for role play videos, and you skim through that quickly just to see. Neighbor overhears you moaning and comes to check on you, best friend takes your virginity, boss and secretary working late, brother’s best friend slips into your room at a sleepover, step-daddy teaches his babygirl a lesson. 

Your cheeks flush hot pink and you settle further into your sheets, backing out of this folder and navigating to your tried and true favorite.

Guided masturbation and encouragement. 

There are even more videos in this folder and you skim through any of those ones that say ‘exclusive’ in the title to avoid ones you’ve already heard parts of. The hashtags alone leave you breathless and you have no idea what to choose, every video cleanly tagged with what you’ll need to be able to keep up with his instructions. Hands only, rabbit vibe, hitachi wand, bullet vibe, dildo, butt plug, nipple clamps, lubricant, massage oil, blindfold, wrist restraints, ankle restraints, the list goes on and on.

You select one at almost random with the tags ‘hands and fingers’, ‘dildo’, and ‘optional squirting’. 

The screen starts black, and for a second you’re pretty sure something’s wrong, but then you hear him. 

“Hi everyone,” Your muscles melt, and you push your noise canceling earbuds deeper into your ears, “I have something a little special today,” 

You’ve never heard him talk so casually, almost like a vlogger or something. His voice hasn’t yet shifted into that deep teasing tone that kicks off every free video, and you’re already sold on every dollar you’ve spent when he starts to just chat. 

“I got a request from a special subscriber in my discord,” He says, “someone who’s become a friend and who confided in me that she’s never been able to make herself squirt,” 

Your breath comes a little more quickly. 

“It’s not easy to do, I know,” He says, tenderly, the screen still black, “and I want you all to know that if you’re still struggling after this audio, that’s okay. It takes time, and your body is not a sex toy. There’s not a perfect combination that works for every person with a vagina,” 

Your brow quirks at the inclusivity of his language choice and you smile a little, easing yourself down in the bed to keep listening to him. 

“But I’m going to do my best to help you,” He continues, “so while I get set up over here, I need you to get your own space ready. Get up out of bed or off the couch, but keep me with you, okay, baby?” 

You’re shaking and he hasn’t even said anything sexy yet. You don’t always listen perfectly to instructions, sometimes you skip ahead a bit and get to the good stuff just to get yourself off, but this time it’s different. You tuck your phone in your robe pocket and stand. 

“For this session,” You can almost see the smile in his voice and you try to imagine him, “you’ll need a couple of good towels laid out across your space. You’ll need to drink a big glass of water before we get started, and then I want you to find your best dildo, the one that really makes you come hard. The one that fills you up just right, that hits that tender little place you wish I was touching with my fingers,” 

He’s going to make you come so hard you see Jesus, you can tell already. 

“We need everything to be perfect,” He says, “and for you to be comfortable. Tonight is not the night to test out that new toy, okay? Tonight is for you and me, so go and get your supplies, and I’ll tell you all about my day. I’ll be your favorite little sexy podcast.”

As he starts warmly talking to his audience about his long lazy morning off work, you nearly crumble. You’re really not supposed to be getting a crush on this guy, but here you fucking are. He’s sweet, casual and laughs a little while he talks, and while you gather up the towels and the water and the frankly oversized dildo, you’re smiling. 

You hear him sit down and sigh and then his voice shifts, just a little, “Alright, baby, are you ready?” 

You sink back back down to sit on your own bed and you wait. 

“Just a reminder,” He says, “I will be using female descriptors throughout this video. If you’re uncomfortable with me calling you ‘girl’, like babygirl or good girl, or referring to you as a woman in any way, I am posting the similar content with male descriptors. If you’d prefer to hear baby boy or good boy, check the links below this video, okay?” 

You smile again. 

“Alright,” He hums, “now, where were we?” 

The camera clicks on and you feel the little gasp leave you. You almost forgot. 

He leans back on the couch and keeps talking, “That’s right, the lesson. Get settled over the towels, and if you’re wearing anything, it’s time to take it off for me.” 

You lay back over the towels and let your robe part open. 

“That’s so good,” He croons softly, “god, you’re so pretty, baby,” 

Your chest thumps hard. 

“Let’s start slow, okay?” His hands smooth over his thighs, “the key here is teasing, and I know how much you like it when I tease you.” 

Your hand rests on your own thigh, your other propping up the phone as you watch with rapt attention. 

“Touch your pretty thighs for me,” His voice is rich and thick in your ears, “that’s a good girl, there we go, nice and soft. Is your pussy wet? Did I do that to you again, pretty girl?” 

You’re barely breathing, eyes fixated on the screen as he strokes his own thigh through his sweatpants, slow and steady. 

“Are you aching?” He asks and you can’t help but nod, feeling like suddenly he can see you through the screen. 

“Touch just a little,” He murmurs, “but don’t jump ahead. Keep your fingers off your clit, we’re not there yet, sweetheart.” 

A little tight sound slips out of you as you follow his instructions. 

“Is your sweet slit wet?” He hums, and his hand slides up his thigh and rests over his stomach, “Are you throbbing?” 

Fuck. 

“Someday, baby,” He sighs and you watch him shift on the couch cushions, “I’ll taste you,” 

“Fuck,” You whisper. 

“But for now,” He’s smiling, you know it, “you just need to listen to me and do everything I tell you,” 

You’re nodding again. 

“I promise,” He says, “I’ll take such good care of you baby, if you listen, I promise to make you come.” 

Your stomach clenches, core fluttering, and you drift your fingertips up and down your slit, following the way his middle finger is slowly sliding back and forth on his abs. 

“Are you listening?” His voice goes husky and your head drops back into the pillows. Next time you’ll need a better way to watch him and listen and touch yourself, but you’re so incredibly desperate at this moment that it really doesn’t matter, you’ll make due. 

“You are, aren’t you?” He murmurs, “Good girl,” 

Your legs spread a little wider. 

He leans forward, you hear the rustling of the fabric and you snap your eyes back to the video to see him leaning forward, hands clasped together loosely, and you’re pretty sure you can see the outline of a bulge in his sweatpants. 

“Does it hurt?” He croons, teasing. 

You love him like this. 

“Take your hand away from your pussy,” He says, just a little more commanding, “right now, baby,” 

You pull it back reluctantly. 

“Close your eyes for a minute,” He murmurs, “spread your legs for me,” 

You comply immediately. 

“Tease your nipples,” He sounds a little breathier now and you fight the urge to watch the video, “do whatever feels good, touch your tits exactly the way you like it,” 

You roll your nipples, tugging them softly and kneading your breasts with both hands now that you’re not propping up the phone. 

“Imagine me with you,” He says, “feel my fingers sliding up your calves, my lips on your inner thigh, you can feel my breath against your sweet cunt, I know you can,” 

You’re about to come untouched, that’s the thought that rocks through your mind when your hips jerk on their own, his deep voice nestled right in your ear. 

“Look at you,” He muses, “squirming around, so fucking desperate for something inside you,” 

Your breath catches. 

“You’re so needy,” He continues, “are you making noise for me? Little pants, little moans? Are you trying to be quiet?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, a soft scold, “Not with me, baby,” 

A moan bubbles up out of you. 

“Hands off.” 

Your eyes open immediately, and you don’t pull your hands away just yet, but you’re frozen still. You’re breathing hard, blush climbing up your chest, and your hips jerk slightly. If he doesn’t let you touch yourself soon, you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Good girl,” He says after a moment, “very good,” 

You drop your hands, scrambling for the phone so you can see what he’s going to do next. 

“Now watch me,” He instructs, holding his palm up to the camera, “take two fingers,” he separates his fingers, keeping his middle and index fingers tucked together, “and when they’re inside curl them just like this.” He crooks his fingers in a come-hither motion, “Just like this,” 

You slide your hand down your front, slipping your fingers through your soaked folds, but his voice makes you pause. 

“Go slow,” He instructs, “push them in nice and slow for me,” 

You follow his instructions. 

“There you go,” He sighs softly, “now curl your fingers,” 

You watch as he does it in the video and you follow instructions dutifully, your fingers brushing over your spongy g-spot. 

“Feel that?” He leans back, and the tent in his sweatpants makes you pant, “That perfect little spot that makes you whine so good for me?” 

You nod again, biting down on your lip, desperate to move but waiting. 

“When I say,” He slips his fingertips into his sweatpants, teasing you, “fuck your perfect pussy with those fingers,”

Sweat drips down your chest. 

His hand disappears into his sweats and he groans, “Now,” 

You don’t have to be told twice. 

“Harder,” He says, throaty and low, “I know you can,” 

A tight sound slips out of you as you work yourself, but you nearly fall apart when you watch him push down the top of his sweats. His cock is huge, there’s no other way to say it. Thick and perfect, aching pink at the head and when he wraps his hand around himself you feel the tense knot of your orgasm rushing back. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” You scramble in the sheets, pulsing your fingers in and out just like he told you to. 

“Look at you,” He says again, “fucking yourself for me. I bet you’re imagining my fingers, aren’t you? Just like I’m imagining your dripping pussy,” 

Pleasure rocks in your gut. 

“Use your other hand,” He instructs, “rub that clit for me,” 

You drop the phone like it’s hot, and you have to crane your neck to see the video, but it doesn’t matter. He’s given you the perfect permission to do exactly what you need and you have to take it. 

“Does that feel good, baby? Yeah? Do you feel like you need to come for me?” His voice gets closer to the microphone and you’re rapidly approaching the edge, “You’re so close, fuck, listen to you,” 

“God, oh god,” Your legs are trembling. 

“Do you see how hard you make me?” His fist jerks over his cock faster and your mind is unraveling, none of his other audios feel like this, “Do you know how much I want to see you come?” 

Pressure drops in your belly. 

“Fuck,” He pants, “you’re almost there, I know you want to come for me, but not until I say,” 

It’s happening whether he wants it to or not, whether you want it or not, and your fingers bear down harder on your clit, your eyes locking closed, head falling back. 

“Hands off,” He’s not teasing anymore, he’s telling, “right now, babygirl, hands off.” 

You pull your hands away and it’s possible that nothing has ever felt as bad as this one stolen orgasm. Your hands are shaking, body flushed and slick with sweat, and if any of your neighbors are up they are probably getting an earful. 

You lock eyes with the video again and his hands rest on his knees, cock standing tall and at attention, edging with you. 

“Get that dildo nice and wet,” He says, and you search your sheets for the silicone cock, “in your mouth pretty girl, imagine that’s my cock between your lips,” 

He strokes his hand slowly down his length, smearing a bead of precum down to the base of his shaft as you dip the cock between your lips and take it as far in your mouth as you can. 

“It’s time to come,” He soothes, like he knows you’re a whining, quivering mess, “I know you need it,” 

The dildo pops free from your mouth and you watch as he lifts the hem of his shirt to expose the smooth plane of his abs, “Fuck yourself with me, sweetheart,” 

Pleasure pops through you as you press the toy to your hot channel. 

“Nice and fast,” He pleads, thrusting into his fist, “don’t stop this time, not until you come,” 

The bubble inside you expands again, pressure everywhere. 

“Just trust me,” He whispers in your ear, “don’t stop. I’ve got you, I’m right here, you let go baby. Don’t fight it,” 

Your back arches up off the bedding, the muscles in your arm aching as you thrust the toy in and out of yourself, pressing it up again and again into your g-spot. 

“Come, baby,” He sounds like he’s begging, and your free hand flies down to grip the sheets, “let go, you come, that’s it, there you go,” 

You turn your head, catching sight of him again and the way he works himself over. 

“There we go,” He groans sharply, his own release spurting up ropes of cum onto his exposed chest, “can you feel me inside you? Come with me, that’s a good girl, good fucking girl,” 

He sounds dizzy, panting himself, you’ve never heard him quite like this and one final thrust sends you spilling over the edge. Your vision whites, body locking up in ecstatic pleasure, and you clap a hand over your lips to stifle the moan that rips out of you. 

It takes a minute to come back from that. Your ears ringing, and the dildo slips out of you with a final pulse from your shattering orgasm. He’s talking, you register it, but his voice sounds far away and you realize that you’ve lost your earbuds. You scramble to get them back in, pulling the video up to your eyes. 

“-And that’s okay,” He’s saying, his cock tucked away and his shirt back down, “you can try again another time if you didn’t quite get there,” 

For a second you’re confused, it was the hardest orgasm of your life, but then you remember this was intended to be a guided masturbation to squirt and you blush, alone in your apartment, at the fact that you didn’t quite get there and he’s talking to you. 

“It’s all about the build up,” He explains, “but I’m sure with a little practice we can get you there.” 

You’ve never really cared about squirting until now, but he makes it sound like a perfect date and something tells you that you’ll be back here again night after night if he’ll have you. 

“Anyway,” He sighs and you hope he’s smiling above the camera, “thank you for spending a little bit of your day with me, I hope I made you feel as good as you made me feel,” 

You blush again. 

“I’ll see you soon,” He assures, gentle like a lover would, “sleep well, jagiya,” 

The video cuts and you blink hard, you’re still smiling. 

You are so, so fucked. 

After that, Ryu becomes a problem. You wish it was just the videos and the dirty talk and the good orgasms, but it’s more than that. You just like to hear him talk now, the little bits at the beginning about his day are starting to get into your head. And then there’s the Snapchat. 

You kind of expected the private Snap to be sexy photos and videos of him in the almost pitch dark huskily saying good morning, but it isn’t. You still have never seen his face, but his videos are casual, friendly, too real for a man you spend every night fantasizing about. He chats about things he’s doing or books he’s reading while he’s cooking, filming just shoulders down so you can watch the muscles in his arms while he chops vegetables. You fall in love with the sound of his voice when he’s just talking, his stretched out s-sounds that only really peek through outside of his constructed scenes. You find yourself missing him a little on days he doesn’t post. 

You’ve gotten used to waking up with him, falling asleep with him, checking in on him during the day. His message announcements in Snapchat don’t feel like they’re for everyone, they feel like they’re for you. You know that’s not true of course, you know you’re paying a hefty monthly bill just to feel like this, but you don’t care. It’s been a while, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t just need some company. 

It’s a Thursday when everything goes to shit. 

You wake up far too late, forgetting to set the alarm on your phone after falling asleep directly after yet another Ryu narrated orgasm, and everything has been off kilter since. You’re scrambling to get to work on time and every little thing is going wrong. Your coffee machine isn’t turning on, the sweater you want to wear is still in the wash, and your umbrella will not open despite the rain that’s ruining what would have been a good hair day. 

When you decide to stop into the coffee shop across from your office it’s not even a want, it's a need. You’re already thirty minutes late, why not make it forty-five? 

You’ve never come here, not once. You’re used to going to the shop around the block from your apartment, and this place is new. Ongozisin is the kind of place you’d normally take your time in. The space is clearly industrial, concrete walls and flooring made to look unfinished. The aesthetic is still warm though, with natural dark wood furniture and bamboo accents, Joseon era paintings and a juniper bonsai along the back wall. 

To the left side of the cafe stands a bay of tall windows and the very modern, very clean point of sale. The line isn’t too long, but you can see that the pace of this place is slower by design, so maybe you’ll just round up and call it an hour late. A door opens to your left and you watch as one of the baristas steps out from a kitchen holding two black plates of colorful, carefully constructed pastries. 

The line moves ahead of you, and the person behind you softly clears their throat to jog your attention. 

You step closer, only one person ahead of you now. 

When you hear his voice you nearly reach for your phone. 

“That’s perfect,” It’s Ryu, clear as day. His voice is distinct and deep and here. 

Your eyes snap up to the barista behind the counter, your body frozen stock still as you take him in, mind spinning. 

“Do you want any cream?” He says to the woman ordering. 

Blush lights up your cheeks and all you can think about is the video you watched the night before and his voice in your ear - Do you want my cum inside you, pretty baby? 

You should leave. There’s a reason this man is anonymous on the internet, never showing an inch of his face, and Ryu isn’t even his name, it's just what you call him. He never calls himself anything in the videos, never reveals what part of Korea he lives in, never talks about his job. He doesn’t want to be found. 

You’re about to turn, run, scramble away, but his voice comes again and this time you realize he’s talking to you. The man, Ryu, smiles, “Good morning, can I get you something?” 

You’re frozen. 

“Miss?” A little crease between his brows. 

“Sorry,” You jump forwards, ignoring the annoyed huff behind you and shaking off as much of this panic as you can, “I don’t know where my head is this morning,” 

“That’s alright,” He says warmly, “that’s what I’m here for,” 

You can’t say anything, your mind blanks. 

His eyes flick over you and then he nods, “You know, coffee? To wake you up?” 

“Right!” You nod, “Sorry, yes, an americano please,” 

“Iced or hot?” He asks. 

Are you feeling hot, babygirl? Do you need to take something off for me? 

“Hot,” You say it on a reflex but then you remember yourself, “no sorry, iced, iced please,” 

“Okay, sure,” He smiles, “iced,” 

You make it through payment without too much more embarrassment, apologizing again, and then you step to the side. Another barista appears, slotting into Ryu’s place so he can turn his attention to the drinks he needs to make and you take the moment to get composed. 

He’s handsome, that’s a given. You expected that, but still he looks even better than your imagination conjured up, more real. He looks exactly right for this cafe too, his black hair long enough to brush the base of his neck with half gathered into a ponytail, pieces loose to frame his angular face. He’s dressed smartly too, black oversized trousers and a fitted black t-shirt, slim black boots, and an open jacket in a dramatic modern-hanbok style. You realize you’re staring the minute his eyes hold on yours and they crinkle up as he smiles. He has a birthmark, a smooth light pink flush across his eye and your heart thumps in your chest. 

“Long night?” He asks you, passing off a coffee in a mug to the woman who had been ahead of you in line. 

He just puts you at ease and you nod, “Something like that,” 

“Ah,” He knocks out the round cake of used espresso from the portafilter as he talks, “and you look like you got caught in the rain, don’t you have an umbrella?” 

“Broken,” You grimace, “it’s been one of those mornings,” 

“Mm,” He nods, focusing on queueing up espresso for your americano, but while the shots pull he turns back to you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before?” 

You shake your head, “No, first time,” 

“Do you like it?” He gestures around with a nod of his head. 

“Very much,” You smile, “it’s a great space,” 

He smiles again, looking proud, “I’m glad you like it,” he says, “we haven’t been open very long, but so far people have seemed to enjoy it,” 

“Oh,” You watch him pour your espresso over ice, “is the cafe yours?” 

He nods, “Mine and my friend’s,” 

You wish you weren’t late, you wish you were able to stay just a little longer. 

“Well,” You tell him honestly, “it’s beautiful here, I’ll have to come in more often, I only work across the street.”

“Ah,” He nods, “I thought you looked familiar,” 

Blush creeps up your neck. 

“Did you need cream?” He asks and you hope he doesn’t notice the way your pulse quickens at his words, but he nods towards your coffee and you shake your head. 

“Thank you,” You take the cup off the bar and step back, “I appreciate it.” 

“I hope that helps,” He says, and then he glances behind you at the large round window, “actually, I’m sorry, can you wait one moment?” 

“Sure,” You watch him duck out from behind the bar, making a quick beeline for the swinging door that leads back into the kitchen. You have no idea what he could want, there’s no way you’d be recognized by him except as a stranger on the street, and your stomach knots up. 

It takes him a moment, but he darts back out, a long black umbrella in his hand, “Take this,” 

“I can’t do that,” You wave a hand, “I’m only across the street, but that’s really kind of you,” 

“If you’re only across the street then I know where to go to get it back,” He shakes his head, “just take it, it’s raining like crazy out there,” 

He presses the handle of the umbrella into your free hand, and your breath catches in your throat, his skin brushing against yours. Your eyes flick over his rings, just the same as always. A signet with a deep black stone, a hammered silver band, a clearly vintage one on his index finger that looks like an old Catholic saint token, the finer details rubbed away with age. 

“What time do you close?” You ask, accepting the umbrella. 

“Seven,” 

“I’ll bring it back after work then,” You tell him, “is that alright?”

He nods, “But if it’s still raining, just keep it. Bring it by tomorrow,” 

“Tomorrow,” You nod. 

“Mhm,” He nods, something warm in his expression, “this will have to be your new usual spot,” 

Is he flirting? You’re wholly and entirely unprepared to deal with that considering the way you moaned his name last night. Something clicks in your brain at that thought though and you nod, “Maybe it will. I’m y/n, by the way,” 

“Yeosang,” He smiles, “it’s very nice to meet you.” 

Yeosang.

“You too,” You dip your head, “and thank you again for this,” 

“Of course,” He says, “I hope this turns your morning around a little,” 

You open your mouth to say something, but there’s a voice from the cafe bar that slices cleanly between your conversation, “Yeosang-ah!” 

Yeosang glances back and then he sighs, just a little, “I have to go,” he tells you, “but I’ll see you again,” 

“See you again,” 

He’s back behind the bar before you can blink, focusing on each customer’s order. The man who called his name is grinning, and you wonder idly if he’s the friend who owns the cafe with Yeosang or just a part-timer. 

With your stomach fluttering, you push out into the rain to get to work, Yeosang’s name on a loop in your brain for the rest of the day. When you get home, his umbrella resting by the door, you delete his Snapchat from your contacts and unsubscribe from his Fansly account. 

Ongozisin becomes a daily ritual. 

The money you used to spend on his Fansly now goes straight into the cafe, first thing in the morning before work and a last lingering stop in the evening before you go home. 

On busy days you barely get to see him and sometimes you’re left just chatting with Wooyoung, his best friend and business partner. You like him too, you like the atmosphere and their kind warmth, but if you’re being honest you find yourself living for slow days. The days where you’ve timed it just right to have a little talk before the rush of the day or the closing tasks of the evening. 

Little by little, Ryu fades from your mind, and the man in front of you is just Yeosang. The guy who runs your favorite coffee shop, the guy who dresses almost otherworldly, who smiles wide but only when you say something truly funny, who sometimes gets lost in his own head while he’s making cappuccinos. 

He’s lovely. 

Sometimes you think he might be flirting, a little more suavely and charismatic than his business partner who asked if you had a crush on him since you were coming into the cafe so much. Sometimes Yeosang adds a little extra treat to your plate of food or he adds pretty latte art to your cup if you’re staying in the cafe. That might be nothing, but it certainly might be something. 

It isn’t until another day of rain, harsh pelting rain, that Yeosang appears at your table. 

“We close soon,” He says, and when he sees the brief flash of concern that you’ve overstayed your welcome on your face he shakes his head, “sorry, I meant to ask, how are you getting home tonight?” 

“The train,” You glance outside. 

His nose crinkles, “You don’t have an umbrella today either,”

“True,” You look down at your belongings, “I didn’t check the weather,” 

“If you wait a bit for us to lock up,” He says, “I’d be happy to walk you to the station,” 

“Oh,” 

“Or if you’re not busy,” He clears his throat softly, “I could walk you to this little restaurant around the corner?” 

Flirting, then. 

You smile and nod, trying to keep your eagerness tamped down to a normal amount, “Are you asking me out, Yeosang?” 

He grins, “I’ve been trying to,” 

Your stomach flips pleasantly, “I’ll wait, dinner sounds nice,” 

His shoulders sag, a little relief in his expression and he clears away your empty cup as he says, “I’ll be quick,”

You catch Wooyoung slapping his friend's shoulder as he disappears into the back room, and before you know it you’re blushing and sitting across from this man at the restaurant down the block. 

Dinner is so smooth it feels surreal. It turns out you both like the same music, and several books too, and you’ve never been on a date with a man who asked you so many questions about yourself and didn’t just talk your ear off. Dinner stretches long too, and you’re strangely grateful it’s a Friday when you finally do check the time. He has to work on Saturday at the cafe, but not until a little later in the morning, and so neither one of you really wants to call it quits. 

The after dinner walk turns meandering, and then his hand is brushing against yours, knuckles to knuckles. 

You don’t think of him as Ryu until his fingers brush down your back, lips close to your ear when he finally asks you. The way he does makes your body melt - I hope I’m not ruining things by asking, but would you like to come home with me tonight?

You agree before your mind catches up to itself, but every step of the walk to his apartment has your heart picking up speed. You had forgotten on the date how you met him, really met him, and your gut churns. 

Do you tell him? Do you lie? 

Everytime he grins at you, touches you, tucks his long hair behind his ear and nods, you can’t imagine a one night stand. You could maybe swallow the truth if that’s all this was to you, but it’s not, and so you can’t. 

On his block you feel the internal countdown ticking. 

“You can change your mind, you know,” He offers, noticing how you’ve gone quiet, and it pulls you straight out of your thoughts. 

“Oh,” Your head snaps up, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to change my mind at all, I just got a little lost in thought.” 

He nods, this time finding your hand and giving you a squeeze, his steps slowing as you approach his building, “Can I ask what about?” 

You nod, returning the soft pulse of his hand in yours before separating your skin from his. His eyes flick down to your hands, and then back up to your eyes. 

“I have a bit of a confession,” You swallow hard, “something I think I should tell you before we go upstairs,” 

“Okay,” He leans against the stone wall behind him, “is everything alright?” 

“I hope so,” You nod, “I just feel like there’s something I should say now, and if it makes you uncomfortable at all, just be honest. I’ll go home, no hard feelings,” 

“y/n,” His brows draw together in confusion, “what’s going on?” 

You take a deep breath, taking a step back to get a little breathing room, “I recognized you when I came into the cafe that first day,” 

“Recognized me?” 

“Yeah,” You clear your throat, your chest feeling tight, “for the past few months I’ve been… a subscriber,”

“A subscriber,” He repeats, and for a brief flickering second you wonder to yourself if this man just looks and sounds and feels exactly like Ryu but isn’t, but then his face blanches, “oh,” 

“I’m not anymore,” You shake your head, “and clearly you like your privacy, so I didn’t know how to just come out and say it, but if you’re actually interested in me and not just being flirty at the cafe then I just can’t lie to you… I don’t want to start something with a lie,” 

He’s quiet, and then his eyes flick down. 

It was so, so nice while it lasted. 

“I should have told you sooner,” Your stomach flips and you take another step back, “and I completely understand that you’re upset, I’ll just, I won’t say anything to anyone and it was lovely getting to know you, and I’m sorry, I’ll go,” 

His head snaps up, “Go? y/n, stop, slow down,” 

His hands smooth down your forearms as he jumps forwards, pulling you gently back towards him. Your heart is beating so loud you can practically hear it, “I’m sorry,” 

“I’m not upset,” He assures, “can we go inside to talk? I don’t want to do this in the street,” 

You nod, letting him lead you through the garden gate and up towards the house, but his words pulse on a loop in your mind. You hope he’s good at letting you down easy because this hurts. You should have known it that first day at the cafe, you should have stayed away and not played with fire. 

His house is small, but very nice and despite being sparsely decorated, you like it. You feel trapped in the entryway so unsure of what to do in this space, especially when you recognize the corner of his gray couch. 

“Can I get you a drink or something?” He interrupts your thoughts, “I have wine, probably some soju, and a bottle of truly undrinkable Japanese whisky,” 

“Undrinkable?” You blink. 

“I think it’s supposed to be very good if you like whisky,” He explains, “it was a gift,” 

“Ah,” You couldn’t feel more awkward if you tried, “wine, I guess?” 

“Okay,” He smiles, a close lipped polite smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes, “well, make yourself comfortable, I’ll get us a drink and then we can talk,” 

“Sure,” You’re still frozen as he walks away down the hall to what you presume is the kitchen. It takes a minute to unstick yourself, but you make your way to the couch and wait. 

He returns with two glasses of red wine and then he sits in the chair opposite you, not on the stretch of couch next to you. 

“Sorry,” You take the wine, stomach flip flopping, “I know this isn’t how you thought the night would go,” 

“Mm,” He nods, taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know what to say,” You tell him honestly. 

He nods, looking anywhere but at you until he finally meets your eyes again, “You’re not a subscriber anymore?” 

“No,” You tell him firmly. 

“Why?” He asks, and the question hangs between you. 

“When I recognized you at the cafe and you were being so nice to me,” You explain, “it occurred to me that something might happen between us, as friends or otherwise, and it just felt wrong to know you as Yeosang and then… engage with your content that is clearly anonymous and meant to be private. I didn’t want to do that without you knowing,” 

He nods, setting his glass on the nearby coffee table, “I see,” 

“You are keeping it private, right? I feel like you’re careful to not overshare,” 

“Yes,” He nods, “no one knows.” 

“Then I really am sorry,” You set your own glass aside and lean forwards, “I’m sure you didn’t want to bring your real life as Yeosang and your online life as Ryu together, I just recognized your voice immediately that day in the cafe,”

“As Ryu?” He glances back up at you. 

“That’s what I…” You try to parse through it so it doesn’t sound like a parasocial affair, “fromryu, you know? That’s just what I filled in for your name, I guess,” 

“Ryusang,” He nods, “it’s the Hanja spelling of Yeosang,” 

“Oh,” You soften. 

“Why didn’t you mention you knew me before?” He asks, but despite his words nothing in his demeanor is upset, just curious. 

You take another large, steadying gulp of wine and nod, “I didn’t really think the cafe was an appropriate place to tell you that I’ve gotten off to your voice before,” 

He laughs sharply and looks down, “Okay, that’s fair,” 

“Right,” You murmur. 

“y/n,” He sounds hesitant and you look back up to him, “can I ask you something?” 

“Anything,” 

“Did you come out with me tonight because you wanted to go out on a date with the guy from the cafe, or because you wanted to have sex with Ryu?” The question is direct and cutting. 

“With you,” You answer quickly, and now you know exactly why he’s putting this distance between you, “you, Yeosang.” 

He’s quiet, turning your words over, you can practically see him thinking. 

“Yeo,” You murmur, fighting the urge to reach out to him, “if all I wanted was that, I wouldn’t have told you. But I really like you, Yeosang, and I’d like to see more of you and see where this could go, but I completely understand if me knowing this part of you is too much. If you don’t want to go any further with me romantically or as a friend, this can just be a nice date we both had,” 

He nods and then says, “I have one more question,” 

You wait, your stomach in knots. 

“Do you have a problem with what I do?” He asks. 

“I mean,” You shake your head, “I was a subscriber, so no,” 

“I don’t mean like that,” He clarifies his words, “I mean in terms of a romantic relationship. I like my work, both the cafe and the content, and if we start seeing each other I’m not going to suddenly stop making porn just like I wouldn’t close the cafe.” 

“I’m not asking you to,” You shift over on the couch and reach towards him, resting a hand on his forearm. 

“I’ve dated a few women,” He explains, slipping his hand into yours and twining your fingers together, “this was not something any of them were comfortable with,” 

“Oh,” You nod, but he continues. 

“A couple of them thought it might be fun,” He adds, “but when things got more serious they expected me to stop for them,” 

“I’m sorry,” You tell him quietly, “I don’t expect anything like that,” 

“You don’t now,” He points out, “and neither did they in the beginning.” 

You can see the way this has fucked with his head a little, the way he keeps his shoulders stiff and turned away from you as he explains, and you suppose you might react the same way if you were in his shoes. 

You chew the inside of your lip as you think about how best to say this to him, but finally you manage it, “Yeosang,” you get his attention, “what you do for work doesn’t change what we do on a date or in bed,” 

He turns his head a little, the only indication you have that he’s really listening. 

“I have no expectation that you’re some… sex god,” You smile a little, “though my guess is that you’re pretty good at dirty talk,” 

A small smile appears on his lips. 

“If I didn’t like what you do for work I’d go find another guy,” You continue, “and I’m sorry if the other women you dated weren’t comfortable with it, but I’m not so shy about it. I like what you do, and you’ve helped me plenty, and there’s nothing more flattering than knowing you liked me enough to even bring me upstairs,” 

“Don’t sell yourself short there,” He looks up, shaking his head, “when you said yes to dinner I thought I’d be lucky if I got to so much as touch you,” 

Your heart quickens in your chest, “You, what?” 

He turns his body towards you properly now, “y/n,” he says, “I like you, I’ve liked you since you walked into the cafe soaking wet and exhausted, I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for weeks.”

“I think I’m dreaming,” You breathe, and he grins at your words. You clap a hand over your lips and groan, “Sorry, I didn't mean to say that outloud,” 

“It’s honest,” He says, “I like that about you,”

“Well,” Your hands naturally separate as you lean back onto the couch, “then believe me when I tell you that I am fine with your work. All aspects of your work,” 

His eyes flick over you, gauging how honest you’re being now, “All aspects?” 

You nod again. 

“y/n,” His voice softens, “what tier subscriber were you?” 

It clicks in your brain that you haven’t really told him everything, all the things you know about him and his work. Little audio videos here and there might be forgivable to some women, but more might be too much. 

“The highest,” You tell him, “when I say everything I mean it, the videos, the Snapchat, all of it.” 

He seems to relax at that, “And if this does go somewhere,” he gestures between you both, “if we keep seeing each other. If it becomes more than a few dates,” 

You nod. 

“You’re alright knowing that even if we were dating and going to bed together every night, I spend my free time making people come on the internet for money,” He says it so plainly that you have to blink at him. 

You turn his words over and then sigh, “There’s one thing,” 

He leans back in his chair, putting a little more distance between you both, obviously braced for your words. 

“I just have a question,” You ease him, “just something I should know, I think.” 

He nods once, his shoulders tense again. 

“Do you ever talk one on one with people?” You feel your cheeks heat, “I know you do, you have the discord, but I mean do you ever do what you do alone with someone?”

He softens, “No, no I don’t,” 

“Okay,” You nod, the tense knot in your stomach relaxing, “okay, then,”

“Would that be a boundary for you?” He asks. 

“I think so,” You tell him, “it’s different when you’re making a video to upload for anyone and talking to someone, at least to me,” 

He nods, and then he moves, shifting from his position on the chair to your side on the couch. The nerves that were knotted deeply inside you start to unfurl, his proximity feeling like a peace offering, like an acceptance of your words.

“Subscribers aren’t lovers,” He says finally, “and some people blur that line with their content, but I don’t.” 

“Then, Yeosang,” You take the opportunity to slide yourself sideways a little closer to him, “I am fine with all aspects of your work, more than fine.” 

“Will you tell me if that ever changes?” He asks. 

“Yes,” You make him this promise, “I like you too, all I want is to be honest with you,” 

He nods, his fingers flexing on his thigh as he thinks. Finally, he swallows tightly, his skin flushing a little now that you’re almost pressed together on the couch, and he asks what he’s wanted to ask all night, “y/n,” he turns towards you, “can I kiss you?” 

He’s stunning this close, enough to render you speechless, breathless. You manage a single word, “Please,” 

He’s on you in a flash, and Yeosang’s lips are warm, soft and plush and as he presses into you and winds his arms around you. Your body relaxes into his instantly, the feeling of his warmth, the scent of him, rich coffee grounds and sugar infused into his skin from his work at the cafe. 

His tongue probes your mouth, his breath hot as he sighs. Your body feels alight, hot and feverish and desperate from just a single kiss. You need him inside you yesterday. 

When he breaks the kiss, you realize you’re half straddling him. Somewhere in the heat of the moment and the muddled fog you hitched a leg over his and his hands dragged you up against him so you’re chest to chest. When your mouths break apart, you’re still merely inches from each other and panting the same little breath of air. 

“y/n,” His hands explore you slowly, moving over your skin like he’s trying to learn you, “normally I would try to keep the kink to a future date, but since you already know all of my deepest, darkest fantasies, maybe we can skip ahead?” 

“Yes,” You laugh softly, “definitely,” 

“But I am realizing something,” His hands find the curve of your ass, “I’m at a disadvantage here, you’ve seen my videos, but I don’t know anything about what you like.” 

“You,” The word bubbles up and you flush red again. 

“My voice, I’m sure you like that,” He drops it a little to emphasize the husky bedroom quality of it with a teasing smile on his face, “but what videos do you like? What were your favorites?” 

He’s about to ruin you, there’s absolutely no question. Even if he was all talk you’re sure to be coming just from his words alone, but his hands, the way he touches you, there’s no doubt he has the skills to back up everything he’s ever said in the videos too. 

“Now I’m a little embarrassed,” You admit, “an hour ago we were on a first date,” 

“An hour ago I didn’t know the woman across the table had fucked herself to the thought of me,” He counters softly, “and we can slow down if you want but judging from the wet patch on my thigh I think you want to keep going,” 

You jerk your hips immediately, angling to pull them away so you can stop embarrassing yourself all over this man after a single kiss, but his hands lock down hard over your ass and he holds your body firmly against him. 

“No, no,” He adjusts his leg so that his thigh is pressed even more firmly against your cunt, “don’t be embarrassed with me,” 

“Right,” You blush darker. 

“I’ll tell you what I want,” He offers, “would that help?” 

You nod quickly. 

One of his hands shifts to lovingly stroke up and down your back as he speaks, “I want you to enjoy this more than anything. There is nothing that gets me off harder than making a partner absolutely fall apart for me, and knowing I did that for them, and I think you already know that from my content. That’s real, that’s me.” 

You shiver a little and he leans up to kiss you, softer this time. 

“I’d like this to be good for you,” He continues, “and honestly I already want to see you again, but in case it’s only one night for you I think we should make it count.” 

The night went from nothing to everything so fast your head is spinning but you nod, surging up to kiss him with your hands pressed against his chest for balance. Your core drags along his hard thigh with your momentum forwards and you gasp a little into the kiss, your hips bucking softly on their own at the sudden pleasurable sensation. You feel something stiff and warm pressing into your belly and you feel a rush of sensation between your thighs. 

“So,” He kisses you again, leaning away so he can talk to you, “tell me what videos you liked,” 

“The um,” You clear your throat softly, “the guided ones,” 

He smiles, “Those are your favorites?” 

You nod. 

“And the roleplay?” He asks. 

“Good,” You nod, “everything you do is really good,” 

“But the guided ones get you off, hmm?” He squeezes your hips. 

You nod again, “You’re very good at what you do,” 

“Guided,” He says, almost to himself, before he drags your hips up and back along his thigh, “so you like when I talk you through it?” 

You rock your hips on your own this time, picking up on his cues that he wants you to grind on him, “Mm-hmm,” 

“Tell me more about what you like,” He keeps one hand planted firmly on your backside, but the other starts to wonder, fingers teasing the skin of your collarbones before he cups your breast through your sweater. 

  “Y-you’re so comforting,” You manage as you slowly rut your body against his, “even when you’re edging me and telling me what to do, you’re just, I don’t know,” 

“Is that right?” He teases softly, his fingers toying with the top button of your closed cardigan. 

“Mm,” You sigh, pleasure truly starting to build inside you as you rock your clit lazily against him, “and you understand it takes time for women,” 

The button opens. 

“You take your time with the build up,” You sigh, finding a better position for your hands against his firm chest while you continue to rock, “and when you talk about what you wish you could do to me if you were there,” 

Two more buttons part open and he hums softly, appreciatively, “You like knowing what I want?” 

You nod, watching as he makes short work of your other buttons. 

“Maybe I should just show you,” He slides the cardigan off your shoulders until it pools around your waist, caught on your elbows, “wouldn’t that be better than just listening?”

“Y-yes,” You sigh, your hips slowing so you can let him take the lead. 

He shakes his head, pressing his hand against your ass again to keep you moving, “That’s it,” 

You moan softly, fingers gripping his shirt, “Yeosang,” 

He chuckles at your needy whine and brushes his fingers between your breasts, stroking up your chest, down and over the wire of your bra, and lower still over the soft flesh of your belly. 

“There you go,” He smiles, “I know that feels good,” 

You nod, “So good,” 

“Jagiya,” His hands slide your bra straps down, letting the soft material of the mesh cups fall and reveal your breasts to his hungry eyes, “look how pretty you are for me,” 

You’re close. 

“Don’t stop,” He murmurs, shifting under you so that he can sit up further and press his lips to your chest, “I need you to come,” 

“Yeo,” You whine, your hips sinking into a quick rolling rhythm that feels so right. 

“I need to take my time with you,” He confesses, lips traveling from the center of your chest across the swell of your breasts, “but I don’t think I can,” 

“I-I don’t want you to,” You moan, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to stay steady, “please,” 

“I want to,” He groans, “but, fuck, y/n,” 

“Yeo,” You shudder, pleasure snapping up and down your spine, “it’s not one night, it could have never been one night for me,” 

He exhales a heavy breath against your skin, hands tightening pleasantly on your rutting hips. 

You’re startlingly close to tipping over the edge, the bubble growing closer and closer to bursting, and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly to focus on the sensation of him, “I-I need,” 

He grips you harder, “Tell me, baby,” 

“I, I,” You stammer, body stumbling towards coming. 

“Come on,” He says lowly, “tell me what you need, baby, I’m right here,” 

A tight sound bubbles out of your mouth and you figure it out in a second, your hand winding into the back of his hair to direct his head, pushing his mouth until you feel his lips ghost over your pebbled nipple. 

“Oh,” He groans, his tongue catching your nipple firmly and sending a shock down your back, “there we go, I’ve got you,” 

His tongue flicks over your nipple again, closing his lips over the hardened bud to suck sharply in exactly the way you need to take you right over the edge. 

“I’m,” You grip him harder, losing yourself entirely now as you grind against him for your release, “I’m so close,” 

“Come,” He pants, latching back onto your breast to keep lavishing the same attention, his arms banding tightly around you to hold your shuddering body close.  

Your finger tightens in his hair, he begs you once more to come, and your orgasm knocks into you sideways. You moan sharply, jerking against him as you fall apart, and you feel him start to move. 

He presses fast kisses across your chest, his voice soothing, “Oh, there we go,” he sighs as he feels you trembling, “fuck, what a good girl showing me exactly what she needs,” 

His words draw a groan from your lips, your head buzzing at his praise. 

“Perfect,” He sighs against your chest, “you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,” 

You shiver, “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” His fingers trace a circle around your nipple, and something in the way he’s touching you and the sound of his voice tells you everything. He’s about to tease you, edge you, make you come, and god willing he was about to fuck you. Yeosang flicks his thumb over your nipple and smiles, “Baby, I’m going to turn you over, if you want to slow down or stop at anytime you just tell me,” 

“I think I’ll be,” You start to say, and then he maneuvers you quickly in his strong arms, gathering you close so he can turn you over on the couch, leaving you lying flat on your back against the cushions. You squeak and the way he pushes your legs together, quickly undoing the buttons on your trousers and pulling down the zip, and he glances up at the sound to check your eyes but finds nothing but your lazy post-orgasm smile. 

As he kneels and strips your trousers off he groans, “God,” 

“W-what’s wrong?” You blink, finding his eyes. 

“Absolutely nothing,” He smooths his hands up and down your bare legs, “except I’m finding it very difficult not being inside you yet,” 

“So come inside me,” You smile. 

The corner of his mouth turns up at your words, “Already, baby? It’s only the first date,” 

You process your words and roll your eyes, “You know what I meant,” 

“I do,” He smiles wider now, “but you need to come again before I fuck you,” 

“Not that I’m complaining about you touching me,” You gasp sharply as he hooks his thumbs under the sides of your thong and yanks it away, “but I’ve been daydreaming about your cock for months, so,” 

He laughs sharply, tugging his own shirt up and off over his head as he does, “I’m flattered,” 

“Shut up,” You press your thighs together and let your head flop back onto the cushions. 

“Darling,” Yeosang says, kissing each of your thighs before he starts to slowly open your legs again, “how long has it been since you’ve been with someone?” 

“Honestly?” You grimace, “A while,” 

“And how long since you’ve had anything bigger than your fingers inside you?” He asks it so plainly, so calmly, while he widens your legs and starts to tip you open, another kiss to your inner thigh. 

You shiver in his hands, “N-not that long,” 

“Hmm,” He sounds pleased at that, “do you like using toys when you fuck yourself to my voice?” 

“Fuck,” You gasp as his finger traces the softest line up and down your slit. 

“Is that a yes?” He blows a cool stream of air across your throbbing clit and you jerk in his hands. 

“Yes,” You answer quickly. 

“What I wouldn’t give to watch that,” He says, kissing your inner thigh again before he continues, “but still, I’m probably bigger than your dildo, be patient with me,” 

“Oh, fuck,” You melt as he presses one finger inside your slick channel.

“Relax,” He soothes you, “just let go for me,” 

You don’t know how your life is this strange, how you went from listening to this man through your headphones while you touched yourself under the covers alone at home to his fingers sinking inside you. You’ll probably wake up from this dream with sticky thighs. There’s no way this is real. 

Those are the thoughts that dizzy you until he pushes two fingers flush into your heat and you moan sharply, your hand gripping down on one of the couch throw pillows. He feels pretty real. 

He groans, gently pumping his middle and ring finger just to get you used to the sensation, “Feel good?” 

“So good,” You sigh.

“How badly do you need to come, darling?” He asks, continuing the slow and steady thrust of his fingers. 

“So badly,” Your voice is whiny, needy, entirely informed by the feverish heat spreading through you. 

“Pretty girl,” He hums, “with an even prettier pussy,” 

“Oh, god,” You grip the pillows harder, and he’s barely doing anything to you but your legs are already starting to tremble. 

“Mmm,” His fingers begin to pulse more firmly and you feel his fingers curl, finding the spongy crook of your g-spot with practiced ease, “and you need my cock inside, don’t you?” 

“Ah, yes! Yes,” Pleasure blooms through your body. 

“Soon,” He promises. 

You moan again as he repositions, continuing the steady drumbeat of his fingers inside you as he reaches around with his opposite hand to separate your lower lips, the pad of his middle finger now alternating between maddening flicks and taps to your clit. 

“Ah! Yeo,” Your hips rock, “just like that,” 

“Good girl,” He murmurs, “telling me what you like,” 

A tight sensation fills your lower belly, a blossoming heat that spreads from your core up through your body in warm waves, “F-faster,” 

“Mm,” His thrusting picks up speed instantly, the angle slightly adjusting as he does, “that’s it,” 

The angle chance has his curled fingers pumping against your g-spot hard and suddenly the sensation drops low, almost painfully tight and sharp like you’re on the precipice of something. 

It occurs to you all at once what he’s trying to do, the way he’s trying to make your body sing, and despite the rolling waves of pleasure and how close you are to your second release, you don’t necessarily want the first time you squirt to be on Yeosang’s floor. 

“B-baby,” You whine, the pet name slipping off your tongue, “I’m gonna, I think, oh fuck,” 

“Fuck yes,” His fingers flatten down over your clit and he rubs fast, slickly rolling over your firm bud, “let go,” 

“I can’t,” You shake your head, sweat breaking out across your brow, “I’ve n-never, oh, fuck, Yeosang!”

“Come,” He commands softly, “that’s it, you come, right here, baby,” 

He’s not stopping, and with the way he’s working you there’s no way you could even if you tried. In a snap your body releases hard, a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt pulsing through your slick cunt and your legs jerk, hips snapping up as clear fluid pulses out of you. The sound that leaves your lips is wanton, broken and needy, and your ears are very clearly ringing. 

“Oh, fuck,” Yeosang hums, almost to himself, rubbing fast across your soaked slit to help coax every bit of slick from your center, “oh, baby, look at you,” 

Your legs try to snap shut at the suddenly sharp overstimulation, but all he does is take that as his cue to stop directly stimulating you and instead drop the warm flat of his tongue over every inch of your glistening pussy. You gasp sharply at the feeling, rolling your head forwards so that you can look down between your legs, and you moan softly at the sight. 

He’s buried between your thighs, lazily licking stripes up your inner thighs and over your cunt, but slowly enough that his aim isn’t to draw you into another orgasm, he just wants to taste you. To feel you on his tongue and ease you through your little aftershocks. 

“God,” You breathe after a moment, “oh, my god,” 

He chuckles, kissing the top of your mound, “Was that your first time?” 

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. 

He groans a little, palming his hard cock through his trousers to readjust, “That’s an ego boost, I’m not going to lie,” 

You manage a laugh despite your dizzy, orgasm fogged brain, “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” He strokes your thigh, “if you’re not careful I might get addicted to the way you taste when you come,” 

A shudder runs through you, “You can’t just say things like that,” 

  “It’s not a lie,” He says, “I’d spend a whole night between these thighs if you’ll let me,” 

“Mm,” You sigh, reaching down for him and brushing your fingers through his long, dark hair. 

“Now?” He cocks his head slightly to the side, “If you want my mouth, you just have to ask,” 

You shake your head, slowly starting to push yourself into a sitting position and slide your hips away from him, “Not tonight,” 

“What more can I give you tonight?” He murmurs, running his hands up and down your bare thighs, “Anything you want,” 

You cup his face, drawing him close to lock your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his nose, “Take me to bed, please, Yeosang,” 

“Let’s go,” He agrees, extricating himself from your arms so he can stand and offer you a hand up. 

You take it, but as you do you realize the wet puddle on the floor in front of the couch and you blush dark red, covering your mouth with your hand, “I’m so sorry,” 

“For what?” He blinks at you, and then follows your nervous eyes. 

“I didn’t realize,” You start to say but he interrupts you with a hard kiss. 

“Relax,” He says, “if we’re lucky you’ll make a mess of my room too,”

“I don’t know how I did it,” 

He laughs again, “I do,” he smiles, “now come on, I need to see you in my bed before I combust,” 

He tugs your hand, leading you down the hall until you’re in a large master bedroom. Your eyes flick over the details - industrial, warm wood, dark green sheets, soft ambient lighting. You’re about to comment on it, but he flips you back around to face him and captures your mouth in another hungry kiss. 

“God,” He backs you up to the edge of the bed, dropping you down and falling over you, “tell me I can have you,” 

“You have me,” You pant against his mouth, all thoughts of his lovely interior decor gone in an instant when you feel the hard shaft of his cock nestled between your thighs. 

“I swear next time we’ll go slow,” He grinds his hips down, rolling his length up and down your slit, only the thin fabric of his trousers separating you. 

“Please,” You buck against him, “I need you right now,” 

“Fuck,” His hands are hot, searching, “is that right, darling?” 

“Inside me,” Your hands scramble to find his waistband, “please,” 

He nods, lips still pressed against yours, and then he leans back just enough to undo his trousers and start to push down his pants and boxer briefs. 

Your mouth runs dry immediately. He wasn’t wrong about his size. You have fairly large dildos at home, thick and long and perfect for reaching all the spots you need it to, but Yeosang was bigger, thicker and longer than anything you’ve ever had inside you. 

“Condom?” He manages as he shucks off his pants. 

You blink, tearing your eyes away from his perfect, aching cock and nod, “We probably should?” 

“Right,” He doesn’t push you to make a different choice, he simply searches his nightstand for a moment and produces a foil packet. 

He strokes his cock twice while he tears the packet open with his teeth, before watching you beneath him as he rolls the condom smoothly down his length, adjusting it so that it fits perfectly. 

You’re trembling with anticipation, you can feel it and so can he. 

“y/n,” He murmurs, leaning over you and pressing a hand beneath your back to finally unclip your bra, “I want you to do something for me,” 

You nod, sliding the cardigan and bra off your body and pushing them over the edge of the bed. 

He grabs a firm looking pillow and folds it in half, “Lift your hips for me,” 

You lift up and he slides the pillow right under your backside to leave you propped up and open for him. 

“If it doesn’t feel good,” He murmurs as he maneuvers you into the position he wants, “or if I’m hurting you at all, just tell me,” 

You nod. 

“And I want you to tell me when you’re about to come,” He instructs, “I need to know,” 

You nod again, your stomach flipping with desire. 

He licks his lips, folding your legs open a little wider and slotting himself over you. He settles with one hand on your raised hip, the other braced on the bed by your head, his knees on the edge of the mattress between your splayed thighs. 

His cock finally, finally, nudges at your entrance and you grip down on the sheets below you. 

“Mm,” He groans, sinking just an inch or two into your tight heat, “you’re even tighter than I thought,” 

He pushes in a little more and you moan at the stretch, “Oh, god,” 

“Do I feel that good, babygirl?” He teases, pushing in a little more.

“So good,” You lift your head to watch the way his thick length splits you open. 

“I am bigger than your toys, aren’t I?” He rolls his hips this time, rocking himself deeper with every little thrust. 

“Y-yes,” You nod, your head dropping back to the mattress. 

“Can you take me, baby?” He murmurs low. 

“Fuck yes,” Your hips buck up again on their own as he opens you up, nearly fully sheathed inside you. 

“Just a little more,” He says, his hand tightening on your hip, “there we go, fuck, that’s it, you’re taking me so beautifully, baby,” 

Tears rush to your eyes, not from any kind of discomfort, but just from the overwhelming sensation of him. You’ve never been so full, never been so deliciously stretched and had these parts of you touched, and it rushes a blush to your chest and emotion through your veins. 

His fingers brush along your jaw, bringing your eyes to his, “Good tears, or should we stop?” 

“If you stop I’ll actually cry,” You laugh, blinking away the hazy sheen in your eyes, “you feel so fucking good,” 

“Oh,” He sighs, thrusting gently in and out of you, “what a good, good girl, you are,” 

“Jesus,” You shiver beneath him. 

“Yeah?” He starts to move now, just a bit more, rocking his cock at a steady pace in and out of your wet core, “You like when I tell you how good you are for me?” 

“Yes,” You moan, a shock of hot pleasure spiking up from your core, “please,” 

“Such a good girl letting me fuck her perfect pussy on the first date,” His voice has dropped low again, husky and direct, and you babble out a sound of pleasure as he talks, “so warm and wet,” 

“Fuck, fuck,” Your eyes roll. 

He collapses over you a little more, his desperate lips searching for yours and the angle deepens, pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside you with every downward thrust of his hips. 

You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his warm skin, “Baby,” you pant, “your cock, oh god,” 

He hums against your cheek, head falling slack as his lips find your throat, sucking your pulse points and no doubt searing his mark into your tender skin. He pumps his hips harder and you moan under him, cursing again and scrambling to hold him closer. 

“Such a dirty mouth,” He nips at your neck, “are you always like this, or is my cock that special?” 

All you can manage is a taught moan in response, his cockhead now continuously connecting with your sweet spot over and over and rendering you unable to string a coherent thought together. 

He groans at the way your cunt flutters and spasms and he kisses you hard, fingers tangling in your hair, “One of these days I’ll feel you for real,” he pants, “nothing between my cock and your sweet cunt,” 

Your back arches, your mind spinning at the thought, “Yeo,” you moan. 

“Fuck,” He chokes, “the way you’re squeezing me,” 

You make a tight sound, something between a pleasured whine and a sob, and his hips stutter and stop, pressing his cock in as deep as possible as he grips down on whatever parts of you he can, breathing hot and heavy against your skin. 

You can’t really move well in this position, but your hips rock in tiny back and forth motions to try and keep the sensation rolling through you. He’s panting into your shoulder, clearly trying to keep himself from coming too soon, and your mind commits to an idea before you have a second to double check yourself. 

“Yeo,” You tap his arm, “baby I need to move,” 

He pushes off you, his cock sliding out of your soaked core and you leg your legs straighten out, “What’s wrong,” 

The words are barely off his tongue before you’re sitting up, grabbing his hand and drawing him back to the bed, pushing him onto his back with a guiding hand to his shoulder. He lets you lead, watching you as you put him where you want him this time, and he smiles, eyes flicking over you appreciatively. 

“I need you,” Is all the explanation you can give, and maybe with a stranger this is foolish, borderline stupid, but you know him. He’s not a stranger really, not to you. 

With a feverish pulse of need inside you, you shift to straddle his hips, and with quick, sure hands you roll the condom up from the base of his cock and toss it to the side. 

“y/n,” He manages, but you’re lifting yourself over him now and his hands fly up to brace your waist, “are you sure?” 

“So sure,” You connect his cockhead with your slick hole and drop your hips down fast, taking the whole hard length of him inside you in one smooth motion. 

It’s his turn to moan, his head dropping back at the sensation of your wet walls and he grips at you, his hips stuttering beneath you. 

“God,” He bucks up into you, “you’re perfect,” 

“So are you,” You rock against him, finding the perfect place for your hands on his chest, “you’re so deep,” 

He moans again, and when you start to bounce up and down he curses tightly. 

“J-just don’t come inside me,” You keep bouncing, a steady fluid motion in your hips that you can tell is driving him crazy, but you have to keep your head at least a little. 

“F-fuck,” He groans, his jaw tightening as his eyes flick down to the place your bodies are joined together, “you’re making that kind of difficult,”

“I just wanted to feel you,” Your shaking arms buckle a little and you find yourself flush against his chest while you work his cock. 

“Me too,” His hands find your ass again and he starts to direct the pace, “God, I could fuck you forever,” 

A moan drops from your mouth, your hands tightening on his chest. 

“Don’t stop,” He urges you, and you realize your hips slowed at his words, “you feel so good riding me like that,” 

Your thighs are burning already, but you hardly care, every fast shift up and down leaves you closer and closer, “Love you cock,” 

“Mm, yeah? Say that again,” 

“I,” You curse as a spike of pleasure rolls through you, “fuck, I love your cock,” 

“Good girl,” He grips you tight, his hips jutting up to meet you now. 

Your pace falters slightly, “Please, please,” 

“I’ve got you,” He adjusts just enough to hold you steady as he fucks up into your tight heat, “I’ve got you,” 

You moan, dropping your head into his chest and shuddering against him, “Baby, oh fuck,” 

“A-are you close, jagi?” He pants, fingers digging into your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises. 

“Don’t stop,” You beg, “please, god, don’t stop,” 

He groans, keeping the pace of his thrusts and using his hands on your ass to maneuver you to meet his hips. 

“Shit,” You shudder in his arms, your orgasm fast approaching, “I’m coming,” 

“Come here,” He shifts you fast, rolling you up and off him and manhandling you up to your feet. 

You make a surprised noise at the lack of him inside you when you were getting so close, but you don’t have to worry for very long. Before you can open your mouth he has you standing, facing away from him, and bent over ninety degrees to brace your hands on the bed. 

He thrusts back inside you sharply, slamming his hips into yours and leaving you moaning and curling in on yourself, your legs starting to tremble. 

“Come on my cock, pretty girl,” He palms your ass before planting his hands on your hips and using the leverage to pull you back into each of his thrusts, “you’re so close,” 

Your eyes slam shut, fisting the sheets as you hang on, every sharp push of his cock driving deeper and deeper. You’re going to have bruises, you’re going to be sore, but none of it matters when he’s making you feel this good. 

You sob out a moan, collapsing forward into the bedding but he holds you up, “I can’t,” 

“Yes, you can,” He pants, his sweat slick skin connecting again and again with yours. 

“Fuck,” You groan, “I’m almost, I’m so,” 

“Touch your yourself,” He directs, interrupting your pleasured ramblings, “rub your clit for me, baby,” 

You slide a hand between your legs, locating your slick bud with ease and rolling your fingers over it quickly. 

“Fuck, there you are,” He groans, “that’s right, baby, come on my cock,” 

The same new sensation drops in your gut, your legs start to shake and you’re fairly sure that without his sure hands you’d be crumbling. 

“That’s it,” He coaxes you up, never once slowing the sharp snaps of his hips, “there you go, that’s my good girl,” 

Something unravels in your gut and you come with a shout, folding in on yourself as your legs quake and your mind whites out. Yeosang wraps his arms around you, curling over your back to keep you steady, and his cock slips free so he can stimulate you through your orgasm with his fingers, more liquid pulsing out of you as he fucks you over the edge. 

You’re a quivering mess, and he lets you drop into the sheets, pushing you onto your back so he can stand over you, one hand fisting his slick cock. 

“I’m coming,” He groans, “w-where?” 

Your hands cup your breasts automatically, and you arch up to offer yourself to him, “On me, baby, come all over me,” 

Yeosang groans sharply, his hips thrusting into his tight grip as ropes of silvery white cum paint your skin, covering your belly and breasts and dripping down your chest. He’s panting, his skin flushed pink and sweat covering every inch of his toned chest. 

It takes you both a moment to recover, both trembling in the same position as you try to regain your breath, but after a few moments he smiles a hazy, satisfied smile and finds your eyes, “You’re so beautiful,” 

Suddenly you feel a bit shy, even despite everything you’ve just done together. 

“So beautiful,” He sighs again, pushing his hair back out of his face, and then he drops to his knees. 

He hushes your soft protests and this time he tastes you slowly, but with intention. After such rough, intense sex, he follows it with the softest, slowest orgasm you’ve ever had. With slow sucks and gentle licks he brings you through a languid rolling wave that softens your limbs and leaves you sleepy and pliant in the sheets.  

You drift, falling into sleep too easily for a first date in a sort of stranger’s apartment. 

You wake a little later to a warm sensation on your skin, and you blink your eyes open to see Yeosang sitting next you, freshly showered and wearing black sweatpants and a familiar blank tank top. He draws the wet washcloth over your skin and then stops and smiles when he sees your eyes open. 

“Hey,” He murmurs. 

“Hi,” You reply softly, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” 

He shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry,” 

“I think you scrambled my brain a little,” You laugh, covering your face with your hands. 

“Hopefully in a good way,” He nudges you. 

“Beyond good,” You look up at him, “are you kidding?” 

He smiles a little wider, “Good,” he says, “I drew you a bath,” 

“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise. 

“I thought you might be sore,” He explains, “I know I was a little rough, I hope you’re not feeling it too much,” 

You shake your head, “Just a little, but in a good way,” 

He nods, “Does the bath sound nice, or would you prefer a shower?” 

“Bath is perfect,” You can see that he’s suddenly a little nervous, back to the same man from your date, no trace of Ryu’s husky tones. 

“Here,” He offers you his hands to help you up, and guides you towards the connected bathroom suite. It’s large, crisp and clean, and in the corner stands a large spa-like tub filled high with warm water. 

“Thank you,” You murmur as he helps you slip into the cocoon of water, the subtle scent of lavender wafting up from the steam. 

“Mhm,” He nods, pulling a bamboo stool from the side of the sink and setting it down so he can sit at the edge of the tub and be at eye level with you. 

“This is nice,” You murmur, still finding yourself a little shy in the post-orgasm clarity of it all. 

He’s quiet for a moment, his fingertips dragging over the surface of the water and then he bites his lip. 

Your stomach sinks for a moment, nerves coming back tenfold at the idea that maybe he’d prefer you to go after this, maybe this is all you’d ever have. Maybe he reconsidered what you know about his online persona and maybe he wasn’t willing to take the leap. 

“y/n,” He sighs, “this might be forward,” 

You look up from the rippling water. 

“But what do you think about staying the night? We could order some dessert, maybe keep getting to know each other a little?” He asks. 

You can’t fight the smile that blooms over your face, “I thought you might have changed your mind,” 

“No,” He reaches into the water to find your hand, twining your fingers together, “not at all.” 

“Yeah?” You squeeze his hand. 

“I’d be crazy to let this be a one-time thing,” He lifts your hand from the bath and presses a kiss to the back, “I hope you feel the same.” 

“I really do,” You twist to the side, leaning over to find his mouth and lock your lips together. 

Yeosang cups your cheek, deepening the kiss tenderly, his tongue sweeping against yours, “What are you doing tomorrow night, then?” 

“Tomorrow?” You lean back a little. 

“Let me take you out again,” He kisses you again, softly this time, “I’m probably supposed to wait a few days, Wooyoung would tell me I seem too eager, but,” 

“Who cares about that?” You grin, leaning out of the bath far enough to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, “It’s a date,” 

“And Sunday?” His hands slide down your back. 

You nuzzle his nose with yours, “I have a date,” 

“Oh,” He says, deflating instantly. 

“You might know him,” You tease, “he owns this lovely little cafe,” 

He laughs, his forehead leaning on yours, “You’re mean,” 

“You like me,” You peck his lips. 

“I do,” He nods, “I really, really do,” 

[sailorrhansol]

Amnesia | c.sc (m)

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f. reader

Summary: Choi Seungcheol has never been the type to commit to relationships - casual is more his thing. You’re fine with that - except you and Seungcheol seem to be terrible at casual when it comes to one another. 

Word Count: 11,920

Genre: Friends with benefits to lovers 

Type: Smut, Angst if you squint 

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Recreational drinking, mild jealousy from both reader and Cheol, themes of self doubt/relationship doubt, light depictions of anxiety regarding ambiguous relationships, explicit language, Cheol and reader are both idiots, explicit sexual content including oral (f. and m. receiving), vaginal fingering, nipple stim, breath play if you squint, unprotected vaginal sex, a lot of bodily fluids like spit and cum, multiple smut scenes, hair pulling, light spanking, sub-space adjacent feelings, being a lil silly goofy during sex sometimes, stupid ass nicknames at the end because I’m a millennial and I’m cringe sometimes. 

A/N: This was absolutely not what I originally imagined when I wrote this fic - it was supposed to be angsty and frustrating and a lot of back and forth and instead I wrote two fucking idiots who obviously like one another just being down bad. I don’t know how or why I got here, but here we are. Also - Jeongcheol coming out with billiards content after I posted the teaser for this is fucking sENDING me, thank you for making Pool Shark Seungcheol canon. 

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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DAY ONE

You’re a goner as soon as you lay eyes on him. You know it before Jeonghan properly introduces you, shouting over the rock music that is blaring in the dive bar you like to hang out at on Friday nights. The neon from the sign creates a blue silhouette around Seungcheol as he smiles and holds a hand out to you. You can barely pull yourself together to shake his hand - warm, firm - too busy staring at his face. 

Choi Seungcheol is what your best friend Vin likes to call pretty motherfuckin handsome. He’s got dark, warm eyes that light up playfully when they meet yours, full lips the color of crushed rose petals, a square, firm jawline and silky dark hair that falls in his eyes when he tilts his face down to hide a smile at something Jeonghan says. 

Crushed against the wall of the booth, you feel the cold glass of your beer warm against your palms as you steal glances at Seungcheol. He’s directly across from you, angling his broad shoulders to fit snug into the corner of the booth, lounging backward as he observes the argument brewing between Joshua and Jeonghan. 

He even dresses well. Fitted t-shirt paired with light wash jeans and boots, a fancy watch reflecting the burning neon on the wall next to him, delicate chain necklaces tucked into the collar of his shirt. 

It’s the way he wears them that speaks to you, though. 

“Do they do this often?” his deep voice drags you from your reverie. You blink, gathering yourself when you realize he’s leaning forward a little, addressing you. He sips his beer before tilting the tip of the bottle toward Jeonghan and Joshua. “It’s like they're married.”

“You have no idea. Wait until game night.” 

“Oh yeah. Jeonghan told me about game night.” Seungcheol’s mouth twitches in a smile. “You’ll be there?” 

“Every Sunday. Do you like games?” 

Something about the glint in his eye makes your stomach flip. You sip your beer just to give you something to do, feeling more drunk off the easy confidence he exudes as he shrugs. “Depends on the game. I’m competitive.” 

“So am I.”

He grins. “I look forward to it, then.” 

Warming up to Seungcheol is easy. He’s the new hire at Jeonghan and Wonwoo’s office, and they both felt confident enough to bring him into the fold. You can see why - he’s kind and funny, and there’s a charm to him that draws the people around him like moths to a flame. Even with just the four of you sitting in the booth, you feel the magnetism. 

Friday nights at Rusty’s has been a tradition with Jeonghan and Joshua since you had been in college, filling yourself on five dollar wings, three dollar beers and occasionally lukewarm mozzarella sticks. Normally Vin, Wonwoo and Mingyu would be around, but tonight it’s just the smaller group. 

Jeonghan and Joshua slide out of the booth to play darts, shoving one another back and forth, the drink in their step making them a little off balance. You smile fondly as you pluck another beer out of the bucket of ice, struggling to pop the top, your wet hands sliding against the metal cap. 

Wordlessly, Seungcheol holds his hand out. Flushing from the neck down, you hand it over to him with a silent thank you. He pops the top easily, bicep flexing for a moment before he passes it back over, shooting you an award winning grin. 

“Wow, so strong.”

He pouts and you swear you see stars. “Hey, I am strong.” 

“No, no, you are. Thank you.” 

“You shouldn’t tease me. I’m new.” 

“Huh.” You sip your beer, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat. It does nothing to soothe the heat spreading over your skin under the sole attention of Seungcheol. “I don’t remember that being a rule.” 

“I never was one to play by the rules anyway.” 

“Oh, so you’re saying you cheat at games like Jeonghan does.” 

“I like winning.”

You roll your eyes. From the edge of your vision, you see people leave the pool table. Eager to stand up and stretch your legs, you start to slide out of the booth, the wood grain scratching against your jeans as you do. 

“Come on then, cheater. Let’s play pool.” 

“I’m down.” 

Seungcheol follows you. Your fingers grip the glass of your drink tight, knuckles straining. You move around tables and duck around other patrons, hyper aware of the way Seungcheol keeps close to you, the heat of him against your back. 

Next to the rows of dart boards are two pool tables, the felt a faded green with beer stains and other mysterious smudges on the surface. You grab a cue from the rack on the wall, spin it in your hands, and hand it over to Seungcheol. He eyes it, running his fingers along the splintered and dented wood.

Grabbing your cue in one hand and the triangle rack and set it on the table while he collects the balls from the table and the pockets, rolling them over to you. A few feet away, Joshua is already accusing Jeonghan of cheating. You don’t know how you cheat in darts, but you do know if there is a will, Jeonghan will find a way.

“Dangerous to let them have sharp objects,” Seungcheol notes, sliding the last ball over to you. You huff out a laugh, rolling the rack of billiard balls back and forth to set them. “You’re not going to get violent with me, right?”

“I don’t know, are you going to cheat?”

His smile is wicked. “Me? Definitely not.” 

“Hmm. Not convincing.”

Seungcheol presses the flat of his palm over his chest, drawing your eyes to how thick he is in the chest area. You swallow thickly as he says, “Cross my heart.” 

“Whatever you say. What are we playing for?” 

“What will you give me?” 

You look up at the shift in his tone. Dark. Flirty. He leans against the pool table, resting his hip casually as he crosses his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his arms flex, totally focused on the way his eyes are only for you. Intent. Meaningful. 

A warning goes off in your head. You already feel the pull to him, the innate attraction that has your heart hammering. You should brush off the flirtation, move on to other things. Relationships aren’t really your thing, but there’s something about him that makes you know you’ll want more. 

You already do want more. 

“What do you want?” you ask softly, ignoring your better judgment. 

When Seungcheol smiles, you know you’d give him anything. Everything.

“I can think of something, I think.”

DAY SEVEN

“I like this,” Seungcheol says, voice rough from use. He buttons his jeans, looking over at you. You’re still half-alive on your bed, a sheen of sweat covering your body. The sheets stick to you when you roll to look at him. “Are you good with casual?”

You’re only half listening, too distracted by his flexing abs. “Hmm?”

Seungcheol looks good tonight. He looks good every night, but tonight he’s in dark jeans and a white sweater. The sweater looks soft like his hair, which has grown longer and hangs in his eyes as he looks down to slip on his shoes. 

“I’m not really looking for a relationship at the moment but this,” he answers, flicking his fingers between the two of you. “It’s good.” 

“Agreed. I’m good with casual. I’m a little too busy for anything more.” 

It’s not a lie. You are too busy to really commit to someone. Again, a warning goes off in your mind like that first night you met him, screaming danger. You ignore it, not ready to give up Seungcheol just yet. 

He grins, pulling his short back over his head. “Cool. If you ever don’t want to or whatever though, let me know, yeah?”

“You too.” 

DAY TEN 

Seungcheol [2:06 AM]: Come home with me You [2:06 AM]: Everyone would notice Seungcheol [2:07 AM]: Tell them where you’re going who caaaares Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: Unless you don’t want to tell them then that’s ok Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: I personally don’t care if they know I’m rearranging your guts most nights :)  You [2:10 AM]: CHEOL You [2:10 AM]: Fine pls hold my hand while I do this. They’re going to roast me Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: Holding your hand sooo tight Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: But from like over here tho  You [2:19 AM]: That was so embarrassing. Where did you go Seungcheol [2:19 AM]: She’s so brave, she’s well behaved Seungcheol [2:19 AM]: Standing outside hurry it's cold as dick out here

Seungcheol [4:38 AM]: Don’t forget to text me when you make it home  You [4:52 AM]: Home safe!  

DAY TWENTY THREE

You [11:10 PM]: Wyd Seungcheol [11:34 PM]: Need it that bad? You [11:39 PM]: Wow goodnight!!!!! Seungcheol [11:39 PM]: Nah come back Seungcheol [11:43 PM]: COME BACK Seungcheol [11:43 PM]: Omw. Unlock the door You [11:45 PM]: Need it that bad?  Seungcheol [11:45 PM]: Yes actually :) 

DAY THIRTY

You slide your finger across the phone, curious as you pick up Seungcheol’s phone call. “Hello?”

“Are you hungry?” 

You look at your watch. It’s almost one in the afternoon, your stomach growling as it realizes that yeah you are kind of hungry. “Actually yeah. Why?” 

“I had to run errands and I’m by your place and starving. Wanna get lunch?” 

Your lips twitch in a smile. Leaning against the counter, you press the phone against you a little closer. “Sure, what did you have in mind?” 

“Do you like Greek?” You hum in assent, chewing on your fingernail nervously. You can hear him get into his car, pausing momentarily as he starts it and curses at how hot it is. You can’t help but laugh. “Alright, pick you up in ten?”

“Alright.” 

DAY FORTY THREE

He’s not yours. You tell yourself that over and over again as you try not to look across the bar where Seungcheol is sitting for the nth time. You’d noticed him immediately when you and Vin walked in, clocking his wide frame and familiar laugh with a precision that makes you curse yourself.

Now, Seungcheol is leaning against a high top, talking to a pretty girl sitting on a stool next to him. He’d waved at you earlier and shot you a smile and a wink, but he’s with friends you’re unfamiliar with tonight, and hasn’t come over.

Not that you expect him to. He isn’t yours and the casual thing you’ve got going means he can do whatever he wants, no strings attached.

So why is your heart in your throat as you glance over to see the girl laughing at something he’s said? They’re not alone but somehow that isn’t comforting at all. You pick at the varnish on the table to distract yourself, suddenly interested in the splinters and not the man across the bar from you.

Finishing the rest of your beer, you pull out another, hoping that the hoppy taste erases the icky feeling that settles on your skin. You’re not participating in conversation much, but if your friends notice, they have the decency not to call you out. 

At least Vin knows what’s up, checking on you every once in a while. Thankfully she doesn’t say anything, occasionally giving you a squeeze instead. She knows the deal, understanding the irrationality between wanting to control something that isn’t yours to control. 

Halfway through your beer, your phone vibrates. You flip it over and your heart starts pounding when you see Seungcheol’s name come across the screen, a message waiting to be read. With a shaky hand, you slide your thumb across the screen to unlock it, the message popping up.

Seungcheol [12:13 AM]: Wanna come back to mine? 

Surprised, you look up from your phone to where he’s still at the high top. His phone is in his hands and he’s looking right at you, flashing a grin when you meet his eyes. The girl is still sitting next to him, but his attention is entirely on you now, pinning you to the spot. 

Your phone vibrates again and you glance down, your phone’s brightness stark in the gloom of the bar. 

Seungcheol [12:13 AM]: You’re cute when you’re surprised You [12:14 AM]: What, the girl you were talking to said no? Seungcheol [12:14 AM]: I didn’t ask her. I asked you Seungcheol [12:14 AM]: Omg wait are you jealous?? You [12:14 AM]: No You [12:14 AM]: Definitely not  Seungcheol [12:17 AM]: Hateful to me is Hades for a liar or whatever You [12:17 AM]: Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another, loser Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: Same thing Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: But seriously, I have no interest in her. I’m asking YOU Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: Will beg from my knees in this bar Seungcheol [12:19 AM]: Even tho the floor is kind of gross You [12:20 AM]: I mean, if you’re offering to get on your knees… 

You’re not sure if you trust his answer about not being interested in the other girl, but it doesn’t matter. You still end up leaning against him in an Uber, his hand squeezing your thigh playfully as he leans his forehead on the window, eyes closed to enjoy the cool glass. 

He is so handsome, face glowing red as the car stops at a stoplight. You examine him closely, eyes dragging from the soft curve of his mouth to his impossibly silk lashes. You’d told him once that most girls would kill for those lashes, and now he likes to bat them at you every time he wants something. 

The car starts moving and you look away from him, taking in a deep breath. Seungcheol isn’t yours, but you’re starting to think you want him to be. 

DAY FIFTY TWO

“Is it weird if I bring a bag of shit to stay?” Seungcheol’s voice is shy over the receiver. You grip your phone tighter, biting your bottom lip to hide your smile as you roll onto your side in bed, snuggling into the pillow more. It smells like him, bergamot and cedarwood. “You can tell me if that’s weird.”

“Not weird at all,” you say carefully, too nervous to scare him off. “You usually end up sleeping here anyway.” 

Usually really means always. He’s been doing that more recently, crashing at your apartment after coming over and vice versa. You’ve gone from Uber rides home at dawn to waking up curled into his back. He’s the first person you’ve ever let loiter in your space as much as he has, but you try not to think about it too much, as though just the acknowledgement might spook him.

Whatever thing between you feels fragile, a rare, glass menagerie set that can shatter if handled wrong. Friends with benefits is what you call it, but you’re not quite sure if that’s what it is.

“Okay cool. Waking up at the ass crack of dawn to go back to my place and shower sucks.” 

“I do have a shower.”

“Oh I’m aware. It’s one of my favorite places in your apartment.” 

Your stomach flutters and you clench your thighs together. Looking at the clock on your nightstand, you realize it’s getting late. “Better hurry,” you murmur. “I might be too tired for a shower when you get here.” 

His chuckle is deep. Throaty. “I’ll speed, then.” 

After hanging up, you toss your phone to the end of your bed and stare at the ceiling. Outside, the city hums beyond the window of your apartment. The lights in your home are mostly turned off, a single lamp providing low light in the living room so Seungcheol can see when he comes in, and a flickering candle on your nightstand and in the bathroom. 

Your bed is warm and you do feel sleepy, but the excitement of seeing Seungcheol keeps you awake well enough. You try not to think of that too much, either. He was just there a few nights prior, and already he’s on his way back. Like it’s common. Routine. 

And it sort of is, you guess. You hangout with Seungcheol almost more than you see Vin and Jeonghan these days, and you’re almost always spending the night together. You know his favorite late night snacks, you know the type of coffee he likes to make in the morning before work, and you know about his family, his stresses at work. What makes him tick. 

It’s more than you ever thought you’d know about him when you agreed to keep your sex life with him casual and at a distance. He is anything but at a distance. 

Seungcheol must speed, because it feels like hardly any time has passed when you hear your apartment door open and shut, the sound of the deadbolt clicking. You lift yourself up to lean on your elbows, watching from your bed as he enters your line of vision, a backpack over one shoulder. 

He’s dressed in a long t-shirt and sweats, cozy and warm and still unbelievably good looking. He grins when he sees you, eyes creasing at the corners as he enters your room and drops his bag by your door. 

Without saying anything, Seungcheol crawls onto your bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he inches up over you. Falling backward onto the mattress, you let him loom over you. Heat radiates from his body, warming you up. Your heart thuds as he ducks down, his hands bracketing your head as he cages you in. He brushes his nose against yours and you feel sparks, trying to regulate your breathing. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

“Hi,” you whisper back, reaching your hands up to rest on his hips. He reacts, pressing his waist into yours a little, making you bear his weight. “Ugh, heavy.” 

“Too bad.” 

Seungcheol’s teeth nip your jaw, making your hips twitch upward. You can feel the smirk against your skin as he presses a wet kiss under your ear, moving his way to your neck. 

“I was promised a shower.”

“Maybe I’m too tired,” You murmur.

He hums, leaning more of his weight into you. It’s comforting, not crushing, and you can feel the way his heart is beating wildly in his chest, in tune with yours. You smell bergamot and cedarwood, making your thoughts dizzy and scattered while he whispers, “I’ll wash your hair.” 

“Hmmm. I’m listening.” 

He presses a wet kiss to your pulse point, tongue laving against your skin. Your fingers twist in his shirt, your muscles tensing as you fight off a shiver. You can hear his soft breath, the way the sheets shift under the two of you, the way your heart hammers.  

“I’ll massage your shoulders…” 

“Hmm.” 

His teeth scrape against your throat and you sigh, arching up into him, eyes closed. “I’ll eat you out.” 

Fuck. You’re putty in his hands. Seungcheol could get you to do anything he asked. You don’t know if he knows - you’re too afraid to show him, to let him in on the secret out of fear of what it would mean to him. If it was too much, too deep.

But like this, it’s hard not to hide it. Especially when his filthy mouth hits a weak point in you, turning you thoughtless as you nod your head in response, nails digging into his hip bones through the fabric of his shirt. He makes a noise in response, leaning up off of you reluctantly but pulling you with him. 

Dropping his hands, you head to the bathroom, feeling uneven. Seungcheol whines and grabs you to pull you back toward him. He wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly. 

“You haven’t even given me a kiss,” he pouts, looking down at you through long, dark lashes. “I want a kiss.” 

This is the problem with Seungcheol. He says things like this when you’re supposed to be casual, something easy and without feelings and without strings. But this feels like something, it feels like there's a thread connecting you, tugging your mouth to his because of course you indulge him.

You always do. 

Seungcheol’s lips are soft and taste faintly of his cherry chapstick. You smile into the kiss, standing on your tiptoes to press closer to him. He kisses you back eagerly, slotting his lips against yours and humming with delight. When you pull away, he’s smug, grinning happily. 

“Come on,” he urges, now leading the charge as he pulls you by the hand toward your bathroom. 

Instead of turning on the light, Seungcheol uses the glow of the burning candle on the counter to navigate. He drops your hand to open up the cabinets and pulls out two towels as you trail to the shower, opening the glass door to lean in and turn it on. 

Steam starts to fill the room as you close the shower door and turn to him. He sets the towels on the counter, not bothering to shut the door to the bedroom. Instead, he grips the bottom of his shirt and peels it upward and over his head, revealing all toned muscle and tan skin. 

He momentarily distracts you. Seungcheol is a work of art, equal parts rippling muscle and soft skin. You slide your shorts down, distracted by the way he looks in the golden shroud of the candle light, sliding his sweatpants down his legs. 

Sensing your eyes, he lifts his head as he kicks off his sweats, briefs slung low on his hips. “Admiring me?” 

“Shut up.” 

Looking away, you take off your shirt, feeling the heat flush from your cheeks down to your neck. He chuckles, peeling off his briefs before kicking them toward the sink and striding toward the shower. He stops to kiss you on the cheek as he pulls open the door. 

“I don’t mind,” he teases. “I like it.” 

It’s true. Seungcheol has always had the easy confidence of someone who is comfortable in their skin. You admire that about him - and envy him a little. Seungcheol never seems to worry what others think of him, nor does he seem embarrassed or concerned about making the wrong move. Saying the wrong thing. 

Steam hits you full on as you step into the shower. Seungcheol is already standing under the spray of water, his back turned toward you. For a moment you admire him again, watching the way the water sluices down his broad back and narrow waist. 

Your eyes drift to the tattoo at his neck, the branches of the tree stretching toward his shoulders. You’ve traced that tree with the tips of your fingers and tongue over and over again, fascinated about the way the ink flexes when he moves. 

A chill catches you, making you shiver and step toward the heat of the water. He senses your approach, turning his head to the side to look at you over his shoulder. He grins, reaching a hand back toward you to pull you close. You lace your fingers, letting him pull you into him as he turns. 

Hot water hits your skin, immediately soothing. You sigh, leaning into the firmness of him, Seungcheol’s arms wrapping around you. He catches your mouth again, your eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you slowly, tongue lazy as he licks into your mouth. 

Seungcheol’s hands spread across your back, fingers digging in a little as he starts to explore, one hand surging up and the other down. You moan into his mouth as the hand that drifts down grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing a little. His mouth curves into the kiss and you feel his teeth pull at your bottom lip, something he knows you love.

As always, you’re a goner. You don’t stand a chance with him. Not that first night and not now when he kisses you like something more. Not when he slides his hand around to your front, pressed between your bodies to run his fingers up the wet folds of your pussy. 

He groans into the kiss that has turned sloppy, hungry. “Fucking wet.”

“We’re in the shower.” 

He growls and pulls his mouth from you to attach to your neck, biting and sucking harshly. You let out a breathy sound, head tilting back heavily as you feel his tongue lick the water from your skin. “Don’t take away my credit.” 

“The only crime is pride.”

The pads of his fingers press into your clit, making your knees knock together and the breath leave your lungs. He smiles against your neck, humming. “Which classic are you quoting at me today?” 

“Antigone by Sophocles.” 

“What’s that one about?” 

Finding words is nearly impossible. The heat of the shower has you flushed and distracted, the steam making it harder to breathe, thoughts sticky as Seungcheol continues to tease you, fingers dragging down to your clenching entrance to press his fingers in slightly before dragging them back up.

Your nails bite into the back of his neck, clinging to him for life as he holds you up, one arm looped around your back to press you to him while the other makes all your thoughts scattered. 

“Come on,” he urges gently, bringing his face to yours. He brushes his nose against yours, nudging. “Tell me.” 

“She was a tragic character in a play written by Sophocles,” you sigh. “She was the daughter of Oedipus.” 

“The guy who fucked his mom?”

Your laughter bubbles out of you. He laughs too, his hold tightening. “Yeah, Cheol. The guy who fucked his mom.”

“Craaazy family.” 

“Do you really want to talk about Greek tragedy incest right now?”

“Nope,” he says happily. “I do want to eat this pussy though.” 

Seungcheol flips gears so quickly that it’s hard to keep up. He swings you toward the glass wall of the shower, pressing your chest against it. You moan loudly, startled by the cool glass against your hard nipples. The contrast of hot water and the cool glass feels good, your eyes fluttering shut as Seungcheol drops to his knees behind you. He gently presses the inside of your knees, urging you to spread your legs. 

“Just like that,” he encourages, hands ghosting upward to squeeze your ass. He pulls your hips away from the glass and toward him, groaning as he comes face level to your cunt. “Fuck.”

Your breath fogs the glass. It’s cold when you press your palms against it, holding yourself up as Seungcheol dips forward, running the flat of his tongue down your slit. You let out a pathetic sound and he laughs, fingers squeezing your flesh. 

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. You melt, knees shaking and unsteady as Seungcheols tongue leisurely explores your folds, dipping into your entrance before dragging up to circle your clit. 

One of your hands leaves the glass to reach back, sinking into the wet strands of his hair and holding him to you. He grunts in pleasure, the buzz of his mouth adding to the simulation as he fastens his lips to you, sucking gently. 

Seungcheol’s mouth is a weapon. You fall apart under the warmth of his lips, the softness of his tongue. He sucks at your core, greedy and pleased, fingers digging into you as he presses in further. He can never get enough, the wet sounds of his hunger making your toes curl.

“Feels so good,” you pant against the glass. Your nails scrape against his scalp and he moans loudly, muffled by your cunt. “Your fucking mouth.” 

“Mmm. Love you like this.” His tongue flicks expertly across your clit and you feel your thighs clench, legs shaking as your orgasm spools inside of you. “God this shower hurts my fucking knees though.”

“You wanted to eat me out in the shower.”

A hand cracks across your ass cheek, making you arch against the glass. He chuckles, tongue diving back, words slurred as he mutters, “And I’d do it again.”

Seungcheol’s mouth feels divine. You go quiet as he sucks at you, focused on the warmth spreading through you and the way your breath starts to stutter, limbs locking up. 

When you come, you go boneless. Seungcheol holds you up, pressing you against the glass as he licks you through your orgasm. You twitch against him, nails dragging in his hair, your other hand sliding against the glass as you fight to grip anything to ground you.

Breathing raggedly, you sag when he pulls his face from you and stands. He groans and you grin, knowing his knees hurt from the tile of the shower. He doesn’t care, though. He crowds you in, cock pressed against your backside as his arms loop around you. 

“Kiss me.” His voice is soft, needy. 

Turning your face over your shoulder, you let him catch his mouth with yours, all tongue and cum and spit. You don’t care, pushing into him. One of his hands slides down between your legs, making you whimper into his mouth as he slides his fingers through your sticky folds to press two of them into your entrance. 

Seungcheol is a giver. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve slept together or had brief, fast encounters, he always makes it a point to please you. To go out of his way to make you shake against him, like he needs it. 

He keeps your mouth melded to his as his fingers fuck you slowly. You clench around his fingers, moaning his name as he presses them against the soft spot inside of you. You see stars, panting into his mouth as he strings you along, dragging you toward another orgasm. 

It’s slow. Intimate. His mouth is hot and wet, sucking at biting at your bottom lip. His other hand snakes up to your throat, not applying pressure but gripping you, holding you to him. If he didn’t have you so tightly pressed to the glass, you think you’d collapse.

“You won’t fall,” he breathes into your mouth, reading your mind. “I’ve got you.”

“My knees are fucking useless right now.”

“You’re tough. Come on, I know you can give me more.” 

You’ll give him anything he asks. You feel your heart slamming in your chest as he works you up again, feel the ragged breathing until you momentarily stop, everything tense and suspended as you clench around his fingers, shuddering violently as you come. 

“Knew it,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

A whine leaves you at the praise, head shaking back and forth a little as the oversensitivity makes you squirm. He works you through it, mouth pressed to your ear, whispering to breathe, baby as he strokes you gently until you’re leaning against him heavily. 

Seungcheol removes his hand but keeps holding you up, letting you catch your breath. He peppers innocent kisses along your shoulder, lips brushing your skin tenderly. When you stand up with more strength, he pats you on the hip, gentle.

“Good?”

“Mhmm.” Craning over your shoulder, you catch his chin with your mouth, kissing softly. You press your ass into him, feeling his straining cock. “Come on.” 

“Yeah?”

“All good.”

“Thank fuck. Thought I lost you.”

“I’ve had worse,” you grin, a little tired.

He kisses you, patting you approvingly before he grinds the tip of his cock between your legs. He groans deep in his chest, grip on you tightening for a moment. You reach behind you, gripping the base of his cock firmly, stroking gently before lining him up with your entrance. 

Seungcheol pushes in, both of you whining in harmony at the feeling. It feels good, your pussy throbbing around him as he presses in slowly, letting you feel the stretch. He clings to you, trying to keep it together as you flutter around him. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, more to himself than you. “Shit.” 

Gently, Seungcheol starts to fuck you against the glass, strokes deep and slow. It’s mind-numbingly good, your cheek cool and pressed against the shower wall, Seungcheol’s face buried in your neck, breath puffing against your skin. 

He holds you reverently, both hands on your hips to keep you where he wants you. You reach one hand behind your head, holding the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin. He hums happily, always pleased when you bite and scratch him.

That had been a surprise. You always thought he wouldn’t want you to mark him, that he wouldn’t want evidence of your time spent together. Seungcheol is the opposite though, urging you to rake your nails across soft skin, to bite at him and bruise him. 

Your feet slide apart a little as he strengthens his thrusts. You squeal, hand smacking the glass to hold yourself up. He lets out a loud laugh, pausing to let you fix your stance. He taps your thigh in question and you nod, lifting your leg a little to let him slide a hand under your thigh to press it against the shower wall for better grip.

When he rolls his hips into you this time, it’s deeper, making you tremble against the glass. A groan drips from Seungcheol’s mouth as he sets his pace, pinning you between him and the glass with nothing to do but to take what he gives you. 

“Can you do another?” he asks, breath shaky. His fingers squeeze your thigh for emphasis, the snap of his hips getting stronger. You nod, unable to answer verbally. He huffs, half laughter, half something else. “Yeah you can.” 

And you can. Seungcheol can pull pleasure out of you like thread from a loom, his skilled hands guiding you where he wants you to go. It’s easy for him, the way he knows your body so acute and familiar that the thought alone makes you unravel a little, your whines muted by the glass. 

He makes you come like that, stuck between his warmth and the cold, the two contrasts keeping you suspended as you seize up around him. He grunts at the feeling, hips sloppy, losing their rhythm until he clenches up, growling your name into your neck as he tips over the edge after you. 

For a few moments, you remain melded together, panting in time. Seungcheol makes no rush of peeling himself away from you. Instead, he’s content to mouth at your shoulder and neck, running his nose along your throat. You squirm and laugh, ticklish. 

Grinning, he does it again, nuzzling into you and making you laugh, sound echoing in the shower. “Seungcheol!”

“It’s cute.” 

“Come on,” you urge. “You said you’d wash my hair.” 

He steals a kiss. “Alright, alright. Pass me the shampoo.” 

DAY FIFTY SEVEN

“Who is that?” Seungcheol asks, jerking his head toward the bar. You turn and follow his gaze to see Seokmin standing at the bar, ordering drinks. “Never seen him before.”

“Jealous?” You tease, leaning forward and batting your eyelashes at him. Seokmin is just a coworker, but it doesn’t mean you can’t poke Seungcheol a little. Except Seungcheol doesn’t laugh, leveling you with a stare, lips turning downward. “Wait, you actually are.”

“Don’t push it. It was just a question.”

“We work together,” you clarify, immediately turning off the charm when you recognize he’s not amused. “Actually I think he sort of has a thing for Vin, which is why he’s here.” 

Seungcheol hums, sipping his beer and looking away from you. Licking your lips, you reach out a hand and touch his gently, bringing his dark eyes back to you. He looks serious - more serious than you’ve ever seen him, face blank, eyes unreadable. 

“I mean it.” You squeeze his hand, trying to comfort him. “We’re just friends.” 

“Alright.” 

“I feel like you’re mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?” 

You shrug, struggling to articulate. He still has that expression you can’t read, something stark and closed off. “Just seems like it.” 

He shakes his head again, but you don’t think he’s telling the truth, watching the way his eyes shift to watch Seokmin approach. “Just tired, I think I might head out.” 

Panic grips you and you say the first thing you can think of, throwing caution to the wind. “Want to come over?” 

That gives him pause. He studies you. You feel a tightness in your throat under his scrutiny. His mouth twitches and he nods. “Alright,” he says softly. “If you want me to.”

“I do.” You squeeze his hand again. “Really.”

DAY SEVENTY EIGHT

“Want to do me a huge favor?” 

You look up from your spot on your couch. Seungcheol is in your kitchen, using his hip to close the door to the fridge. He lifts the lid on the package of grapes, plastic cracking loudly as he does. Leaning against the counter, he pops one into his mouth, crunching happily. 

“Besides giving you my grapes?” you ask, deadpan. He grins around them shrugging happily as he eats another. You roll your eyes, turning back to the laptop carefully balanced on your knee. “What’s the favor?” 

“We have this giant New Years Eve party at work in two weeks and I need a date.”

That gives you pause. You stare at the computer screen but you can’t make out anything on the screen. You don’t dare to turn and look at Seungcheol, fearful that the feelings his question brings out will be right on the surface of your expression.

Date. It’s a scary word. You and Seungcheol sort of go on dates all the time, but they’re not really dates. At least, not from your perspective. If you were to ask Jeonghan, he would launch into another lecture that you should just put a goddamn title on this thing. Vin happily agrees, both of them hammering you on calling the thing between you and Seuncheol what it is.

But it’s friends with benefits. Friends go out to eat meals together and go shopping together - they hangout. The benefits are the sex. It’s the pressing you against your mattress as he maps your body with his mouth, it’s the way you sink to your knees for him after he’s had a bad day at work, taking him into the heat of your mouth to make him forget. 

So yes, you’ve gone places together alone and as a friend date. But somehow this feels different, and you don’t think it’s supposed to. 

Carefully, you ask, “Your date, huh?”

“Mhmm. Free drinks and apps, and it’s at the top of that fancy new hotel. We can stay the night so we don’t have to pay for an expensive as fuck Uber” 

Not for the first time, you find yourself unsure where the line is with Seungcheol. You’ve agreed multiple times that this is just casual, a shared benefit between friends. And yet every time you feel confident in what you are, the line blurs. 

You’re as guilty as he is, you know. On more than one occasion you’re the one who has crossed the line, messing up the clear boundary the two of you have had in place for weeks. Somehow, you both manage to be utterly terrible at casual, but you’re too afraid to say something about it. Too afraid to ruin it. 

“I suppose I can be convinced.” 

“Oh? What can I do to convince you?” 

You look up as his tone turns to velvet, that voice he uses when he’s coaxing you into his lap, or when he’s- 

“It’s really hard to be sexy when there’s grape juice running down your chin, Cheol.” 

He pouts, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the lower half of his face as you laugh. He’s cute, pink lips downturned and eyes round as he sulks. “Don’t make fun of me. Just say yes to being my date.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go.” 

His grin is burnished gold, the sun breaking for first light over the horizon. “Thank you.” 

“Mhmm.” He crunches into another grape and you scowl. “Stop eating all my fucking grapes!” 

DAY NINETY TWO

“Holy shit,” Seungcheol mutters when you step out of the hotel bedroom. He feels his heart start to pound in his chest from where he stands in the kitchenette, fingers squeezing the glass of whiskey he poured himself earlier. “You look unreal.”

And you do. You always do. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when Jeonghan and Joshua introduced the two of you that first night at that shitty bar you like to go to on Fridays. The real kicker had been your personality, though. Warm, kind, quick wit. A bit of a history nerd, which is his favorite thing. 

Honestly, he loves a lot of things about you. He knows that he has to do something about that. Knows that this stopped being casual a long time ago. Seungcheol has no problem with casual hookups and keeping people in a rotation, but when it comes to you… he just wants you. 

It’s like he has no idea how to keep his distance, how to keep his feelings out of it. He doesn’t mind, but he needs to figure out how to tell you. How to take that next step and move you from friends to more - if that’s what you want, anyway. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you say back neutrally. He can see the way your eyes linger on him though, your gaze betraying the calmness of your voice, as always.

You don’t get it, though. Seungcheol cannot keep his eyes off you, dragging them from top to bottom. The black dress is snug on your frame, his eyes tracing the swells of your breasts, the dip of your hips, the curve of your ass and thighs. 

Dragging his eyes back up, he meets your gaze. That is one of his favorite things. Your eyes, full of light and depth and thoughts that he always wants to fall into. There is so much simmering under the surface that you don’t say and he’s never asked.

He wants to. 

Knocking back the rest of his drink, Seungcheol leaves the glass on the counter and walks over to you. You shift from foot to foot, eyes darting up to examine the ceiling. He smirks, feeling the nerves radiating from you as he approaches. 

When he reaches out, you don’t step away from him. You let him skim his hands up your sides, going until he’s running them over your shoulders and on either side of your neck so he can cradle your face. He turns your gaze back to him and you stare up at him through your lashes. 

He was a goner on day one. How ridiculous to think he’s not just made this real, told you how he doesn’t want a single thing to be casual and superficial between you. 

Instead of stealing a searing kiss and pushing you back into the bedroom like he wants to, Seungcheol presses a short kiss to the corner of your mouth. He’s too afraid that if he starts something that you won’t make it downstairs. 

Now isn’t the time for that, though. There’s a party upstairs and free drinks and he wants to spend time with his friends. Spend time with you.

The Seungcheol that existed before you is a stranger to him. He barely remembers what it was like to have people he wasn’t genuinely interested in, what it was like to show up alone at parties and take someone home. Hardly recalls pushing people away when they wanted too much. 

All it took was meeting you.

“Come on,” he urges gently, leading you from the room and to the elevator. 

Seungcheol slides his phone from his pocket in the elevator. You press close against him, your arm brushing against his as it fills up with people. He notes where Wonwoo tells him to meet and puts his phone back in his pocket, leaning into you a little.

You let him, making his mouth twitch upward. You always let him do what he wants, and when you don’t, an easy pout gets his way. He’s wrapped around your finger, too. He doesn’t know if you realize it, but he would give you anything you wanted without a moment's hesitation. 

When the elevator doors open, Seungcheol takes your hand. You let him pull you into the party teeming with people, the sound of music swelling over the dull roar of the crowd. You stick closer to him, fingers squeezing him tightly as the pair of you walk toward the check-in table. 

“This is beautiful,” you murmur to him. 

His first instinct is to look at you because you are beautiful. You’re not looking at him, your neck craned to sweep over the party. He smiles at you, watching the glow of your side profile, eyes wide with wonder.

Dragging his eyes from your face, he glances around the party. It is gorgeous, with views of the entire city glittering beneath the building like a bed of stars, shimmering decorations reflecting the golden lights, a giant clock to show the time, and massive flower arrangements. 

“It’s nice,” he agrees, shuffling to the table where he gives his name. “Choi Seungcheol.”

“Perfect, thanks.” The person working the table peels two wristbands and gestures for you both to hold out your wrists. You let go of his hand to do so, letting the attendant wrap your arm in a blue band. “Have a great night, Mr. and Mrs. Choi.” 

Both of you blink in surprise. You open and close your mouth as if you’re unsure how to correct them and Seungcheol laughs, shrugging as he takes your hand and leads you out of the line and into the party proper this time.

“This way, wifey.” 

You roll your eyes but grin anyway, looping your arm through his offered one and tugging him close. He’s satisfied, leading you through the tight crowd of people toward the south bar that Wonwoo had said their friends were waiting at.

Joshua spots you and waves you both over, making room at the bar for you to join. Jeonghan’s eyes flick to where your arm is looped through Seungcheol to Seungcheol himself, raising a brow. Seungcheol glares at him, urging him to shut up and Jeonghan grins, turning to order drinks at the bar. 

Wonwoo claps Seungcheol on the back in greeting before kissing you on both cheeks and letting you sit on the only barstool available. Seungcheol moves with you pressed to your back as he leans an elbow on the bar, keeping you close. You lean into him, earning a shy smile that he tries to hide behind the rim of the champagne glass that Jeonghan hands him.

He likes this. He likes being with his friends. He likes the way you laugh and lean back further into him when you do. He likes that his friends don’t bother the two of you about being attached at the hip. And he likes the way your face lights up every time he jokingly calls you wifey. 

Seungcheol wants this. 

He doesn’t recall the last time he wanted a relationship the way he wants with you. It doesn’t matter anyway. Everything before you is gone and forgotten, and what matters now are the things that are post-meeting-you. 

Plied with lots of champagne and your laughter, Seungcheol lets you drag him onto the dance floor, wrapping your arms around him as he spins you. He doesn’t know what has him more drunk, the alcohol or you. He thinks it might be you. 

The DJ announces that it’s one minute until midnight, making Seungcheol spin and look up at the clock. The partygoers cheer, clustering together to press toward the clock to count down. Seungcheol wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you close in the tight crowd. 

His heart flutters as he watches the numbers countdown, realizing he gets to kiss you at midnight. He’s kissed you over a hundred times by now, but the prospect makes him giddy. His heart races as the numbers drop and he looks at you from the corner of your eye.

You’re watching the clock, uncontrolled happiness on your face as you yell with the rest of the crowd, counting each number as it passes by. 

When the clock strikes midnight, you peer up at him, suddenly unsure. He can’t believe you don’t see it, that you’d doubt for one second that he wants you to be his first kiss of the year. His heart seizes, dipping down with a smile to press his lips to yours.

Your mouth is warm and champagne-sweet, making him groan in the back of his throat. Your fingers cling to his hip, holding him by the waist as he slips a hand up to the back of your neck to hold you in place, deepening the kiss. 

When you pull your mouth away, he makes up his mind. Fuck everything he said about keeping it casual - he doesn’t want to go another minute without you knowing what he wants. 

DAY NINETY THREE

“Be my girlfriend.”

The words that come from Seungcheol’s lips catch you off guard. A giggle bursts to your lips and you lean back, trying to examine him from a little farther away. You feel the glitter of champagne in your veins and the same buzz that comes with being near Seungcheol, wondering if maybe he’s had too much to drink.

“What?” you ask, examining his face. He’s flushed, lips pink and smiling, but his eyes are dark and serious.

“Be my girlfriend,” he says again, this time quieter. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath fans your face, warm and sweetened by champagne. “I know we agreed to be casual so if you don’t want more, that’s fine. But there is nothing casual about the way I feel about you.”

Heart thundering, you laugh and cling to him a little tighter. He nudges you with his head, as though asking what’s so funny. You don’t know how to put into words that you’ve wanted to be not casual for a long time, that you are dizzy with the prospect of being something more, that he’s just made the first minute of your year perfect.

Instead of trying to string together the words to tell him, you kiss him. His mouth turns upward, letting you press your palms to the sides of his face, holding him to your lips. There’s no one else but just the two of you, entirely in your own bubble on the rooftop. 

Relief mixed with euphoria floods your system. It’s a weight lifted off your shoulders, realizing that you’re not crazy, that nothing you feel about Seungcheol is casual and that’s okay. That he feels it too. 

Your fingers slide into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling slightly. He groans, separating your mouths to peer down at you, his lashes fanning when he blinks, dazed. 

“Don’t do that,” he whispers. “This is a work party. I’ll fold right here.” 

“So take me somewhere that isn’t here and fold.”

His gummy smile is blinding, your heart soaring. “Alright, wifey.” 

“Gonna need a ring pop at a minimum if you’re gonna keep saying that shit.”

He links your fingers together, stepping away from you. He tugs you after him and you follow. “Deal. What flavor?”

“Strawberry. I kind of want to suck something else right now, though.” 

Seungcheol groans and you laugh, loving the way he visibly struggles as your words land. He walks faster, a new pep in his step as you make your way toward the elevator. He shouts Wonwoo’s name as he goes, waving his hand to tell him that you’re leaving. 

Wonwoo’s grin is all-knowing as he throws two thumbs up, cheering happily. You tingle with a little bit of embarrassment, scurrying toward the closing elevator door to catch it. It opens again and you both slip inside, alone and buzzing from the party and your newfound status. 

The door closes and Seungcheol pushes in close. You press against the wall, looking up at his sharp grin, his nose nudging yours. His lips are almost on yours, the heat of them against your mouth making you dizzy and the heavy weight of his body against yours making your thoughts sticky. 

“Gonna suck something else, huh?” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Wanna do it right here in the elevator?” 

“Huh?” 

He bursts into laughter at your wide gaze, tapping the underside of your chin with his knuckle in jest. “I’m kidding. Unless…”

You shove him away and he starts laughing again, bending over with the force of it. You can’t be annoyed by his teasing, loving the way his eyes crease at the corner and how he laughs with the full force of his body. 

“You’re so annoying.” 

“You should have seen your face, though.” 

“I mean I’ll do it right now, if you want.”

His smile drops and he opens his mouth a little, shocked. “Wait, really?”

“No, but you should have seen your face.”

The elevator arriving at the appropriate floor saves him from answering. He scowls at you and you giggle, grabbing him and pushing him into the hall and toward your room. He turns on his heel, falling into step with you and fishing the room key out of his pocket. 

It’s cold in the room when you enter. Seungcheol had booked a one bedroom suite with a small living room and kitchenette. It was more than what you needed for the night, but it feels nice, like your own private getaway. 

Taking you by the hand, he walks backward toward the bedroom, pulling you along. His smile is beautiful and you wear a matching one. A thrill shoots through you when you realize that Seungcheol is yours. Really yours. 

Sitting on the bed, he pulls you into his lap. Your knees sink in the mattress on either side of his hips, ass resting on his thighs. Leaning over him, you link your hands behind the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the silky hair there. 

Seungcheol tilts his face up toward you, eyes fluttering as you play with his hair. His arms loop around your waist, squeezing you. 

“Hi,” he breathes. 

“Hi.”

Leaning down, you slot your mouth against his. He tastes like champagne, mouth warm. Kissing him takes your breath away, thoughts guttering out as he licks into your mouth hungrily. You lose yourself in the feeling of him, feeling like you’re on fire. 

Seungcheol falls backward on the bed. His lips are swollen and pink, eyes heavy-lidded as he stares up at you. He reaches for you but you give him a coy smile and slip from his lap, crouching to the floor and running your hands along his thighs, feeling them flex beneath your touch. 

You love Seungcheol’s thighs. Your nails drag across the fabric and he lets out a breathy sound. His muscles twitch as you reach to brush your fingers over his zipper, making sure to press into his cock. His hips jerk upward at the barest hint of stimulation and you grin.

“It’s no elevator,” you tease. “But will this do?” 

“Fucking anywhere will do.” 

Seungcheol has always been sensitive. He’s easy to rile, cock already firm by the time you’re undoing his belt and he’s helping you pull his dress pants down his thighs. You eye the dark patch in his briefs, proud that with just a little bit of kissing and some light touching he’s already leaking at the tip.

Sitting high on your knees, you lean forward, tongue pressing wetly to the tip of his cock through the fabric. A hand shoots to the back of your head, his fingers gripping you firmly as you laugh, tongue still pressed to him and soaking through his briefs.

“Don’t you dare tease me tonight,” he warns, voice shaky. “That is not wifey behavior.” 

You remove your tongue, pouting and moving to press a kiss to his thigh. “You never let me tease you.” 

“I’m not patient.” Your teeth scrape the softness of his flesh and his legs twitch, knees knocking your shoulder. “Baby, I am so serious.”

Biting your bottom lip to hide a smile, you give in. You know with certainty he’d let you drag this out if you really wanted to. Seungcheol is impatient and greedy and demanding, but he also lets you do what you want when it comes down to it. 

Instead of testing his grace, you peel his briefs down, freeing his cock. Your mouth waters at his thick length, your hand automatically reaching up to grab him. You swipe your thumb through the precum gathered, using it to slide down the full length of his shaft.

Seungcheol’s hips buck. You grip him properly, working him slowly as you shuffle closer on your knees. They already hurt, hotel carpet digging into them but you ignore it in favor of watching the way his fingers slowly undo the button of his shirt, needing to shuck the fabric off. 

“You’re pretty,” you note absently. His stomach flexes when he sits up to slide his shirt off of his shoulders. He looks down at you, pupils dilated. “Very, very pretty.” 

“You’re a work of art yourself.”

Instead of laying back down flat, he leans back on his palms, letting his head fall back. Seungcheol shuts his eyes, face tilted up at the ceiling as though in prayer. “Feels good.”

Humming happily, you lean forward and slowly run the flat of your tongue up the base of his shaft. That draws a low moan out of him, his chest rising and falling as he pants. You’re fascinated by his reactions, watching his face and body language carefully as you swirl your tongue around the crown of his cock.

He’s responsive, fingers digging into the sheets in an effort not to grab your head and take control. He’s testing his patience, letting you bring him into the wet heat of your mouth at your pace, sucking lazily. 

“Fuck,” he groans. You hum around him and he shakes his head, shivering. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Good you think, setting a proper place as you swallow him down, letting your spit pool to help make the glide easier. It’s messy and wet, just the way Seungcheol likes it, his moans backtracking the slick sounds coming from your mouth.

What you can’t fit in your mouth properly, you cover with your hand, squeezing periodically as you stroke upward, meeting your stretched lips. 

“God,” Seungcheol whispers. “You know how to suck cock.”

Pulling off of him with a wet pop, you grin, feeling the sting in your mouth from the stretch. Your lips are cum and spit-slicked, sticky as you continue to stroke him. 

“Thanks,” you laugh. “I heard I’m wifey material.”

“Fucking, shit, yeah a little bit. Fuckkkk, mouth please.” 

You comply, sucking him back into your mouth. He’s putty underneath you, hips twitching off the bed a little as soft sounds drip from his mouth. You watch, totally hypnotized by the way he moved, the way his hairline gets a little sweaty as he nods, encouraging you. 

Biting his lip, he lifts a hand from the bed to grab at you, pulling you off of him. “Come here,” he growls, opening his. 

Seungcheol pulls you to him, not caring that your mouth is a mess. His tongue delves in, exploring the mixed taste of champagne and precum, hands pulling at your dress to peel it off of you. 

“Let me sit against the headboard,” he pants, breaking the kiss to scoot backward. You peel your underwear off and toss them, following him across the mattress as he settles. He pats his lap and reaches for you. “Come here, baby.” 

You settle into his lap again, mouth melding to his. His hands explore you, gripping your ass, squeezing your waist, running up your front to pinch at your nipples. You moan into his mouth, carding your fingers in his hair and pulling at the stimulation, your head tilting back a little.

He takes the opportunity to attach his lips to your throat, biting sharply and soothing the sting with his tongue. Sinking a little lower, you feel your pussy brush against his cock and you sigh, gently rolling your hips to slide your sticky folds up his shaft. 

Seungcheol groans against you, mouth feverish against your skin. He maps your throat, kissing and biting his way to your chest, where he steals a pert nipple into his mouth to give a harsh suck. You squeal and he grins, plucking at your sensitive bud with his teeth. 

Holding onto him, you let him lavish attention to your tits the way he wants, hands squeezing, tongue flicking. It feels good. Aflame, you continue to roll your hips shallowly in his waist, just giving the barest of stimulation to you both.

A hand slides between your legs, his fingers finding your swelling clit, pressing against it. You whine loudly, fighting off a violent shiver. He grins where he has your breast in his mouth, sucking generously as he lazily circles your clit with his fingers. 

“Cheol,” you whisper-whine. “You said no teasing.”

“I said no teasing me.” His fingers slide backward and dip into your entrance teasingly. You clench around nothing, aching for him to do something. “Flustered, huh?” 

“Please give me something.”

He presses his lips against the side of your jaw, grinning. “Fine.” He sinks a single finger into you and you sigh in immediate relief. It isn’t enough but it’s something, your hips rocking to take him in deeper. “Better?”

“I can take more.” 

“Of course you can.” He pushes in another finger, the stretch so good. “You’re my girl. You can take what I give you.”

Dropping your head to his shoulder, you nod. You hide your face in his flushed skin, riding his fingers as he slowly slides them home, working you gently. They press against your sensitive spot and you curse, gripping him a little tighter. 

Impatient and needing more, you grind yourself forward, fucking his hand properly. He laughs, letting you take what you need, cupping you fully so the heel of his palm grinds into your clit. Your movements are frenzied, driven by the desire for him, the feeling curling inside you. 

“Just like that,” he encourages. “Fuck yourself on my fingers just like that.” 

You do, thighs aching and body shaking. The sheets stick to your legs as you work yourself up, sweaty palms sliding against Seungcheol’s shoulders. He whispers in your ear, voice low and scratchy, adding to the building mania inside of you. 

“Shit,” you hiss, feeling the tightness in your stomach start to boil over. 

“Come on, come around my fingers. You got it.” 

His gentle voice pushes you over all the way and you clench around his fingers, coming undone. Your hips stop moving and your legs squeeze around his as you seize up. Seungcheol is having none of it, taking the lead to drive his fingers up into you as you flutter around him.

“Oh,” you gasp as he finer fucks you through the rest of your orgasm, sucking at a tender spot on your neck until you’re trembling and a mess. “Okay, okay, okay.” 

Seungcheol takes it easy on you, pulling his fingers from between your legs with a slick noise. You heave against him, catching your breath while he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks obnoxiously. 

“Mmm.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He smacks your ass and you squeak. “Ride my cock like that?” 

Huffing, you extend to your full height on your knees. He grabs the base of his shaft, eyes fixed on the mess between your legs as you sink down slowly. His tip breaches you, both of you letting out a sound as you keep going, holding your breath as he stretches you open.

Seungcheol taps your waist. “Breathe.” 

You do, inhaling a breath as you nestle in his lap, seated fully, clenching around him. “Thanks.”

“Mhmm.” 

Seungcheol’s hands move up your sides, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. This time, you know the look in his eye is real. His gaze is covetous, looking at you like you’re his because you are. 

You catch his hands with yours, linking your finger and squeezing. He smiles, looking up at you with dark locks of hair in his face. You smile back, starting to roll your hips, using his hands to steady yourself.

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. The cool air of the hotel room brushes across your back, making you shiver. The mattress dips under your movement, your thighs flexing to keep your balance steady, Seungcheol’s grip on you helping. 

“You’re so perfect,” Seungcheol mutters, using your linked hands to pull you toward him. Your hands slip from him, going to the headboard to help lift you instead. His grip finds your waist, aiding in your movement while his mouth finds your breasts. “God these tits.” 

An ache settles in your thighs but you ignore it, chasing an orgasm. You tremble in his hold, breath punching out of you as he mumbles your name, watching you with fucked out eyes and lips parted, like you’re giving him everything he ever wanted.

You kind of feel that way. The way he looks at you isn’t that different from before, but now you’re confident in it, realizing that everything with Seungcheol felt too intimate because it was. Casual was never the right name for it, neither of you having any idea how to really be no strings attached. 

“My fucking legs hurt,” you admit, panting. “Can you take over?” 

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol surges forward, knocking you backward onto the bed. You laugh, bouncing a little as he pulls out and helps maneuver you. “Turn around for me.” 

With shaking arms, you follow his instruction. The sheets cling to you as you roll, making you huff and swat at them. He chuckles, peeling them away from your sweaty skin while you settle on your stomach, arching your ass a little. 

He palms your left cheek, groaning and dragging his blunt nails down the curve to your hip where he grabs you. “Unreal,” he whispers, to either you or himself. 

You gasp when he thrusts pack in, punching the air from your lungs as he sets a sharp pace. You jostle on the bed, grabbing the sheets and knotting your hands in them to keep you in place, a stream of whimpers leaving you. 

A hand slips up your spine, pressing flat between your shoulder blades, pushing you down further into the bed. You gasp and nod, Seungcheol taking it as a sign to put more weight into it, angling his hips so he’s fucking down into you. 

It’s hard to breathe, the dizziness taking over as your skin starts to turn to static, orgasm so close that you can feel the buzz between your legs. He keeps going like that, pinning you hard to the bed as his hips crash into yours. 

His name leaves your mouth in a cry as you squeeze around him, letting loose. He curses, picking up his pace, ignoring the wet squelch as he does, palm pressing you harder into the bed as you come. 

You think you might disintegrate, unable to do anything but make broken sounds as he chases his orgasm. Just when you think you might not get another breath, he comes, the pressure on your back lifting a little. You gasp for air, feeling the room tilt as his thrusts slow, becoming gentle. 

Seungcheol’s hands are soothing on your back, fingers dancing up and down your spine, delicate. He’s muttering something to you but you can’t hear him, the pounding of your heart far too loud, pulse rattling in your ears. 

When his hips are still, his hands keep moving. He leans over you, careful not to put his weight on you, mouth kissing across your shoulders. Your cheek is pressed flat against the sheet as you pant, coming down from a fever pitch. 

“You okay if I get up and get you water?” the question is whispered across your cheek, where Seungcheol presses a tender kiss. You nod and he kisses you again before peeling away from you. 

Laying in the bed, you drift, listening to him shuffle around to the kitchen. You’re sleepy but more aware now. When the bed dips again, you crack your eye open, watching as he navigates carefully on his knees, two glasses of water in hand. 

“Can you sit up or do you need help?” You shake your head and muster the strength you have left to sit up. Your muscles spasm as you do, a groan leaving your mouth as the room spins from the change in perspective. “You okay?”

“Thirsty,” you rasp, reaching for the glass he offers. Gulping down the cool water, you’re aware of his eyes on you, watching you drain the glass as he sips his. “Thank you.”

He takes the empty glass and kisses your lips. “Mhmm. Need more?”

“No, I’m good. I just need to sleep for five hundred years, no big deal.” 

“Damn, five hundred goes crazy. Do you think we’ll have flying cars by then?” 

Seungcheol puts both glasses on the nightstand and peels back the covers of the bed. He slips under them, patting the spot next to him. You crawl over, limbs heavy and uncoordinated. He laughs at you and you scowl, but manage to clamber in next to him, warm beneath the blankets and tucked into his chest.

“Yes, definitely. And like giant sexy holograms advertising porn, probably.”

“That’s the first thing you think of in the future? Porn?”

“Listen,” you huff, laying your head against his chest and closing your eyes. “I’m still a little champagne buzzed and you just fucked me until I couldn’t breathe for a while. Cut me slack.” 

“Sure thing, wifey.” 

“Ugh. Is that our thing now?” 

“Mhmm. Everything pre-relationship has henceforth been replaced with the relationship-only era. Pretend you have amnesia.” 

A huff of laughter leaves you. “Sure thing.” 

“I mean I feel like I have amnesia.” You give him a questioning look. He’s contemplative, staring with unseeing eyes as he plays with your fingers. “I had an entire life and habits before you, and I swear it’s like sometimes my memory actually starts with that first night at the bar.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re just around a lot and I like to think it’s always been that way. And I’m kind of sorry for taking so long to admit nothing about this was casual for me.” 

You smile. “Wasn’t for me either.” 

“Good.” He snuggles into you, settling in silence for a few moments. “Thanks for letting me win pool that first night.” 

“I did not let you win that game, oh my god.” 

“Just admit it! You wanted to taste my goodies and you let me win.” 

“I’m gonna give you some damn amnesia,” you mutter, but grin as he hugs you tight.

“Sure thing, wifey. Sure thing.” 

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[quin-ns]

Eventually (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

Word count: 6.7k

Summary: Coriolanus could appreciate irony, but the one person he desires more than anything wanting nothing to do with him pushes him to new territory

Tags: (18+), cw: noncon, dark!coriolanus, deeply implied stalker!coriolanus, unreliable narrator coriolanus (boy is delusional tbh, no one is doing more mental gymnastics than him), pre-mentor era, obsession, unprotected sex, choking (only for like a second), virginity status undisclosed but as I was writing I began to imagine this being the first time for both of them—it’s not even implied tho, so do with that what you will

A/N: a character as evil as him I couldn’t conceive writing fluff for. he’s bad and guess what I’m not gonna fix him, but I also can’t make him not-hot so… hehe. please read the tags and proceed with caution <3

Misc masterlist + main masterlist

You wanted nothing to do with him, and that made him crazy.

No, if anything, you were the crazy one. Coriolanus hadn’t done anything but try to be your friend, but you snubbed him without reason.

Coriolanus did a good job at keeping the financial situation of his family a secret. No one knew, and he doubted you were an exception. Yet, it was as if you looked down upon him.

Although, you’d grown fond of Sejanus, so even if you did know, status wasn’t a concern of yours. It was something he admired, yet questioned all at once. There had to be a reason for your dismissal. A reason you couldn’t bring yourself to even offer a smile back. It’s not like he was asking a lot.

It’s not like he wasn’t trying, either. He’d gotten used to trying to make people like him, to see him as better than he was, but it was never this hard. It would’ve been so much simpler if you just told him to his face what your problem was, but whenever he came around, mostly when you were talking to Sejanus—they were friends, it was the perfect excuse—you just went quiet. You’d greet him, make no effort to continue the conversation, then excuse yourself.

All Coriolanus wanted to know was why.

“You’re watching her again,” Clemensia whispered to him, eyes flicking between him and the paper in front of her.

They were class partners, but Coriolanus was beginning to think he spent too much time with her.

“Who?”

Clemensia let out a small chuckle, mocking him. The professor at the front of the class looked up, and Coriolanus quickly looked down at his paper, taking his eyes off of you.

“You’re too obvious,” she muttered, a smirk in her voice. “Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like you. Because you stare at her too much.”

She didn’t get a response—it didn’t deserve one. Coriolanus questioned why he ever told her anything. She made him sound like some sort of stalker. Which, for the record, he was not.

His eyes managing to find you frequently wasn’t a crime, and neither was crossing your path. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence most of the time, but it’s not as if he was harming you by watching you. He doubted you noticed anyway.

Seeing you nearly everyday had been enough to keep him sated, but then Sejanus started talking about you. Through no fault of his own, Coriolanus learned things about you. What he came to know made him curious to discover more. Even if you did not seem keen to let him.

Being content with what he had didn’t keep its appeal for long. Not when you were right there, your presence taunting him. Making him want what you would not let him have.

“You just need to talk to her, Coryo,” Tigris told him one evening, when he revealed everything to her. “Not in class and not with Sejanus. Just you. Let her know the real you and I promise she’ll like what she sees.”

Coriolanus took his cousin’s advice to heart. She was much more empathetic than him, she had to be onto something, right?

Everything changed when Coriolanus sat across from you at a study table in the library.

As beautiful as you were from a distance, being up close was something else entirely. He could admire you for hours and never get tired.

You looked up at him, he smiled and said hello just like Tigris advised. The smile you returned seemed forced, and you ignored that he had spoken.

It upset him, but not as much as when you got up and walked out. It was the last straw. Coriolanus was following you into the hall before he could think better of it.

He caught up to you, dropping his hand to your shoulder to make you turn around and face him. When you did, you looked surprised. That wasn’t what made Coriolanus hesitate, but the realization that he had never been this close to you before. Not even sitting across from you compared to touching you.

His heart skipped a beat.

“What do you want?” you questioned, a level of annoyance he thought to be unearned in your voice.

His heart started again.

“Have I done something to you?” Coriolanus confronted you, feeling a familiar sense of agitation creep over him. He had to know. “To make you feel such distaste for me?”

“I don’t dislike you, Coriolanus,” you replied, calmly after recovering from your initial shock. “I’m just… indifferent to you.”

The answer confused him more than it did enrage him. He smothered the latter feeling as he observed you.

“You’re… indifferent,” he stated, not asking. His feet shifted beneath him. It hurt, for some reason. “Why?”

Your eyes narrowed ever so slightly, studying him. It was the same way you’d look at your books when you were struggling with a subject, lingering behind in class or the library until a triumphant smile crossed your face.

Only, that smile never came. Your expression just faded back to normal.

“You shouldn’t put so much weight on what other people think of you,” you advised, stepping closer to him. His breath caught in his chest. You smelled sweet, like flowers. “Especially not someone you don’t even know.”

It was then, he realized, you hadn’t moved closer to him with purpose. You’d been on your way moving past him. His eyes focused on your back as you walked away, figuring out what to say.

“I’d like to know you,” he announced earnestly, verbally trying to pull you back. “If you’d only give me a chance.”

You slowed to a stop, looking over your shoulder. Coriolanus felt as if he was on display as your eyes raked over him, determining for yourself his sincerity.

“You’re friends with Sejanus, aren’t you?” you wondered. It wasn’t what he expected, but Coriolanus nodded. You sighed, which irked him to think it was pity. “If you’d like to join us for lunch I wouldn’t be against that.”

“I’ll see you then,” he said, but you were already turning away. He kept to himself that he had already tried in the past.

His friend was nice. Too nice for his own good, truthfully. It wasn’t as if Sejanus completely abandoned him the moment he befriended you. It was more like he split his time, attending to both friendships. The only thing Coriolanus held against him was that he never tried to reintroduce the two of you. Maybe even put in a good word.

At lunch Coriolanus found you and Sejanus quickly, he knew where you liked to sit.

“Hey, Coryo,” Sejanus greeted, smiling. “About time you decided to join us.”

Coriolanus put on a smile as he sat down. “Well, I would’ve sooner, but I wasn’t sure I was welcome before.”

The comment made you smirk, in on the joke as Coriolanus looked at you.

“Who’s to say you are now?” you sarcastically replied, as if you hadn’t been the one to invite him.

Well, “invite” was being generous, but he still seized the opportunity nonetheless.

“Ignore her, she can’t help herself,” Sejanus said with a chuckle, used to your humor.

This time, when he tried to talk to you, you engaged. In between discussions of classes and assignments, Coriolanus had to dodge your quick wit.

He liked the challenge, and the next day, he went back for more. Even walked right past Clemanisa and Arachne, who tried to invite him to their table with Festus. You were waiting for him.

He noticed you and Sejanus already talking.

When he sat across from you, you raised your brows. “Seeking refuge?”

Before he could ask what you meant, you nodded your head towards the girls he’d left behind.

You knew about his friends?

“You could call it that,” he replied, a smile starting to appear.

You nodded and hummed.

“Well, what are your qualifications?”

“Excuse me?”

“You joke too much, Y/N,” Sejanus lightly scolded you, interrupting whatever path you were going down, which made you laugh. “He’s going to think you don’t like him.”

“He knows I don’t mean anything by it,” you assured, looking at Coriolanus. “I’m just trying to figure him out.”

Your tone was filled with confidence, but your face… Coriolanus wasn’t sure how to place your underlying expression. You had a shield up, he knew that much, but what did that have to do with him? Were you trying to figure out if you could let it down for him? Or something else?

“Of course,” Coriolanus answered, not taking his eyes off of you. “I’m an open book.”

“Are you, now?” You folded your arms on the table. “Your friends love to gossip, and I don’t think I’ve heard that about you.”

“It’s not my fault if they don’t know how to read,” Coriolanus quipped, proud of himself for being so quick.

None of his friends had wronged him, but the joke at their expense was worth it for what followed after.

He made you laugh. Not just smile, but truly laugh. It was exactly what he wanted, and it actually worked. Awe didn't begin to describe how it felt.

Joining your table for lunch became the best part of his day. Sometimes he forgot Sejanus was even there, far too eager to see you. He saw you all the time, of course. Watching you was a habit he had yet to break, but this was different. You were aware of his presence, and he was able to speak to you. It didn’t matter that you still seemed weary, it was enough.

Even if you didn’t like him, you still had conversations with him, so that was something.

Sometimes, if you were deep in a discussion, debating ethics—your favorite topic—it would continue beyond just the table. He’d walk you to class, wanting to hear your voice just a second longer.

“I want to meet this girl,” His grandmother declared one night, after Coriolanus drifted to the topic of you over dinner. He’d been doing it more recently.

Tigris gave him a look, a light frown. There was no way to do that without you coming to his home, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Let Coryo decide that, Grandma‘am,” Tigris insisted, patting the older woman’s shoulder.

“Well, he has feelings for Y/N,” she argued, looking at Coriolanus. He used your name enough that she remembered it. “And she likes him too—doesn’t she?”

Coriolanus gave a tight smile. “Yes, she does.”

Keeping up appearances.

“Well, that settles it, then,” Grandma‘am decided.

“I think it’s time you get to bed,” Tigris intervened, getting their grandmother up from her chair.

Later, when they were alone, Tigris asked him, “Does she even know how you feel about her?” She knew him too well. He took too long to answer. “You should tell her. From what you’ve told us, you two should be together. But it won’t happen unless you make it known how you feel.”

Coriolanus’s dreams were filled with you, as they usually were, but something was different the morning he woke up after the conversation with Tigris.

All he had to do was prove himself to you, and he knew that now.

Coriolanus found you in the library a lot, often pretending to stumble upon you. This time, he didn’t put on a facade.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he acknowledged, sitting down beside you. Often he’d sit across, but he was testing the waters. Seeing if you were put off by the proximity. “Studying for Featherly’s class?”

“I’m terrified for his test,” you confided, rubbing your temples as you hunched down at your book. “I feel like my mind has no room for anything else. I’ve memorized nothing.”

With a sigh, you sat up and pushed the book away.

“I can help you,” Coriolanus insisted, reaching for the book. He read over the page you were on, knowing he’d already perfected the subject. “You should’ve asked for me sooner.”

Maybe it was a little spiteful, but he hadn’t purposely meant it to come out that way. You still noticed it, taking your book back.

“I’m not asking for your help now, Coriolanus,” you muttered, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

You were the last of his friends to still call him that. Most everyone else called him ‘Coryo’. Not you. But you were stubborn in many ways. This too, apparently.

“I didn’t mean anything against you,” he said lightly, even chuckling a little. It was forced, but he wanted to show he wasn’t being that serious.

Using your own words on you did not have the desired effect.

“Mmmhmmm,” you hummed.

Coriolanus tilted his head down, trying to get you to meet his gaze. You gave in, facing him, looking unamused.

He wanted to wipe that look away, but didn’t know how. If he could just make you like him—

Suddenly, your watch began to beep.

“Test time,” you grumbled, taking back your book and getting up.

Coriolanus followed you down the hall and into class. The tests were already on the desks, waiting. You two were early—he noticed that because of the clock on the wall.

He walked you to your seat and wished you good luck. To his surprise, you offered the same in return. Then, he went to his own. Other students filed in quickly after, professor Featherly being the last to enter the room.

The professor declared, “Begin,” then sat at his desk in the middle of the room and began to read.

The test wasn’t easy, but Coriolanus knew what he was doing. One look around the classroom and he saw that wasn’t the case for most other students. He felt a sense of pride, until his gaze landed on you. You were one row down and four seats to the left. He’d counted before. You were fiddling with your pencil, struggling to come up with what to write down.

While he could’ve been the first to finish, Coriolanus let other students turn their tests in before him. An hour passed by, but it moved quickly.

There were only a few students left when you finally got up. You radiated an anxious energy, much like the others, but Coriolanus didn’t care about the others.

Clemensia stuck her hand up in the air, waiting for the professor to notice her, distracting Coriolanus briefly. When the professor looked up and noticed her, Clemansia got her wish.

Coriolanus considered himself lucky, convincing himself with his own mantra frequently. As he watched you leave your test on Featherly’s desk and rush from the room, he realized how he could help you.

He quickly marked down the rest of his answers, having stalled so he could leave when you did. The professor was making his way away from the desk, while Coriolanus got up and went in the opposite direction.

With a swift, hard kick to the leg, the professor's desk wobbled and papers spilled off on the other side. It looked like an accident.

Featherly looked over his shoulder at the noise.

“Sorry,” Coriolanus apologized, kneeling down behind the desk to collect the papers.

Without anyone watching, he found your test. He had no time to change the written questions, but he made quick work of erasing and re-doing the multiple choice, with his own test and knowledge as reference.

He had to give you credit for getting a decent amount correct, but not enough for a passing grade.

When Coriolanus fixed that, he stacked together the papers and placed them back on the desk and exited.

Everyone was waiting in the hall. Against tradition, the professor graded tests directly after and would call students in to give the results. It was time consuming, and kept everyone on campus after hours, which was against the rules, but perhaps he’d gotten some kind of exception.

You were leaning against the wall opposite of the classroom, talking to some girl from the class—Coriolanus didn’t bother to learn her name. He wanted to go to you, but Sejanus got to him first instead.

“How do you think you did?”

Coriolanus shrugged, looking down at his friend. “Fine, I think.” That was the humble answer, right? “How about you?”

“Not perfect, but I passed.”

Clemensia trotted out then, a confident look on her face.

“What was so important you had to ask during the test?” Coriolanus couldn’t help but wonder. She’d unknowingly helped him, after all.

“Just clarity on a question, wanted to make sure I got it right,” she answered with ease.

“And did you?”

She gave Sejanus a look.

“Yes, of course.”

The last person exited the class, and professor Featherly closed the door. And so the grading began.

One by one, the professor called people in. There was no method to the order, it seemed likely he shuffled the papers or chose which one to grade next at random.

Time passed, Coriolanus didn’t know how much exactly, but it was beginning to get dark outside. Tigris would be worried until he got home, but she’d understand. His studies came first.

Eventually, Coriolanus realized it was dwindling down to be just you and him left. He was lucky today.

The third to last student was in the classroom, leaving you across the hall from one another.

You pressed your lips together before speaking.

“Do you think you did alright?”

The corner of Coriolanus’s lip twitched up at the sound of your voice.

“Yes, I think so,” he answered humbly. “What about you?”

You let out a self deprecating laugh. “When I said I was terrified, I wasn’t being dramatic.” You sighed, accepting your fate. “I’ll have to do perfect on the next one, I guess.”

“I can help you with that,” Coriolanus offered.

The smile he gave you spawned a mirror reaction. He knew he was charming, he had to be, and this time you actually seemed receptive to it.

“Maybe you can.”

The sound of a door opening made Coriolanus turn. Arachne was leaving, a smug look on her face as she thanked the professor.

Then the door closed, and the professor graded another test. There were only two left.

“I wish he wouldn’t do it like this,” you filled the silence. “The others don’t make us wait like this.”

“It builds suspense, I suppose,” Coriolanus mused. “Keeps us on our toes.”

“That’s not something I need right now.”

“At least you have good company,” he noted flirtatiously. He couldn’t help but grin at his own words, especially when you bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling.

“Could be worse, I supposed,” you retorted.

More time passed. The door opened again.

“Coriolanus Snow,” the professor addressed him next. “Your turn.”

As expected, Coriolanus did close to perfect. One answer off. Best in the class.

Back in the hallway, when he was done, Coriolanus waited with you. He didn’t announce he was staying, he just returned to his spot against the wall.

“Don’t keep a girl waiting. How did you do?” you asked, departing from the wall.

Coriolanus wondered where you were going, but then, you stood next to him, leaning back against the wall. There was still an arms length between the two of you, but it was something. You’d gone to him for once.

“You’ll think I’m full of myself if I tell you,” he teased lightly, which made you roll your eyes.

“Maybe I already think that, so just tell me,” you insisted.

The comment made him falter.

“Best in the class,” he divulged.

You almost looked impressed. “Good for you.”

The door opened.

“Y/N L/N, you’re up.”

“Wish me luck,” you said under your breath before following Featherly in.

“Good luck.”

Coriolanus waited for you, just like before. He tapped his foot. The professor didn’t actually go over the answers, he just told you the grade. You’d have no way of knowing what he did for you, but he’d be there to share in your excitement when you discovered how well you’d done.

Or, how well he’d done for you.

Not long later, you and the professor exited the class together.

“Wasn’t expecting you to still be here,” Featherly addressed Coriolanus. “You should get going. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Then, he left you and Coriolanus alone in the hall, presumably leaving the building.

“So,” Coriolanus began with a smile. “How did you do?”

“He asked if I’d been studying with you. Apparently we had all the same answers,” you told him, crossing your arms. “Except when I asked him to show me my exam—which I did great on, apparently—I saw answers circled that weren’t mine.”

Coriolanus hadn’t expected you to find out so quickly, but a part of him was relieved you did. It meant he got to take credit, and he could show you that he really did want the best for you.

Or, he could always lie.

“You weren scared of failing,” he finally admitted. He offered a sympathetic smile. “So I helped.”

“No, you cheated!” you accused, causing his eyes to go wide. “You’ve implicated us both. If anyone finds out…”

“Don’t be so loud,” he hissed out in a whisper, stepping closer to you. The professor could still be in the building. He doubted anyone else would be. “I just wanted to help you, okay? You needed it, so I—“

“You helped, I get it. But I didn’t ask you to do that for me, Coriolanus. I have never asked you to do anything for me,” you sneered, somewhere between offended and betrayed.

He saw the way you scanned his face—his eyes. The pleading was beginning to seep through.

A wave of realization washed over you before he even opened his mouth.

“You didn’t have to ask me to,” Coriolanus said meaningfully, stepping closer to you. “I wanted to. I wanted to help you.”

You back hit the wall. The hallway was so empty it seemed as if the subtle sound still echoed.

“I’d do anything for you, don’t you get that?”

The sound of a large door closing carried from a distance.

Coriolanus reached for your face, wishing he could take away the concern that riddled your expression. Instead, he brushed a stray piece of hair from your face.

You swallowed. Why did you look so nervous around him? You were friends now, weren’t you? You never looked scared around anyone else. Why him? Why now? His own questions frustrated him.

“We’re not supposed to be on campus after hours,” you said calmly. It was the same tone you used when you first described your indifference to him. Coriolanus thought about that moment a lot. “Featherly already left. We should leave before we get caught.”

The corners of his lips twitched down.

“We’re still talking, though, aren’t we?”

You let out a shallow breath. You had no reason to look as scared as you did.

“I think we’re done.”

Coriolanus thought back to his cousin’s advice. He could’ve followed it better if she’d written it down, perchance.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Coriolanus pondered, smiling to himself at the sight of you. “You caught my eye from the beginning and I—I couldn’t figure out why you wanted nothing to do with me.” You watched him carefully. He wondered if you could sense the dejectedness brewing. “Did you see something in me? Is that it?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted under your breath. “People like you, and you’ve been making an effort to be my friend, so I don’t know what told me to stay away from you, but something did. I’ve tried to ignore it, but I still…” you swallowed. “I don’t know.”

The confession should’ve been a relief. That’s what he imagined it would be. That you would admit the truth, and he could fix whatever misconceptions you had.

Coriolanus did not know what to do with “I don’t know”.

Staring down at you, Coriolanus noticed your back was against the wall. Literally. He hadn’t meant to put you there, but he had.

It got you to listen, didn’t it? He’d gotten an answer?

“Can we start over?” Coriolanus suggested, even throwing in a smile that would charm most anyone. It worked on you before. “We can forget all this mess.”

You blinked. You didn’t believe him.

For most people, he wouldn’t simply let numerous slights go, but for you, if it would fix whatever this was, if it meant the two of you could have a real chance, then he’d overcome his instincts—old and new.

“I’m afraid my memory is too good for that,” you finally said, looking up at him with defiance.

Defying what, was the question. It wasn’t as if you were enemies.

The thought made his jaw clench. He let out a laugh that was sharp. It lacked any sense of humor.

“Why can’t you just accept my apology?”

Your brows arched up, questioning him.

“That was supposed to be an apology?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “But it’s not as if I owe you one.”

“I never said you did. I never said anything. You took it upon yourself to insert yourself into my life and now you are not happy with your place in it. You’ve overstepped, and you need to let me leave.”

Coriolanus frowned.

“You act like I’m keeping you here by force.”

You look up at him, silently telling him you believed he was.

That frustrated him further.

In an act that jarred even him, Coriolanus pressed his palms against your shoulders and pushed you back against the wall when you tried to move away.

“This is force,” he declared sternly, leaning down, making you maintain his gaze.

Everyone liked control, but he hadn’t used it in such a physical way before. It thrilled him in an odd way.

“Get your hands off me.”

“Why should I? You already think so poorly of me, why not let you be right?”

You moved again then, trying to catch him off guard and squirm away. But Coriolanus was quick to shove you back against the wall.

“We can still start over. If you would give me a chance, I think we can be good together.”

He let one hand rise to rest on your cheek. Your skin was so smooth. He inhaled deeply, resolve slipping further as his eyes fell to your lips.

If Coriolanus could just prove it to you, he was sure you’d understand what he meant.

He leaned in cautiously, gauging your reaction. You didn’t flinch away. You tilted your chin up, even. That familiar skip of his heart returned.

Coriolanus’s lips only just brushed against yours before you reacted. He had a second of relief before you brought your knee up, jabbing him in the lower stomach, although he doubted that was where you were aiming. It was still enough of a shock to throw him off his game. He stumbled back, and in a flash, you were gone. You were running down the hall—trying to get away from him, like usual.

Only this time, he didn’t feel like letting you go.

Something he had slowly come to learn was when he wanted something, it wasn’t just going to be handed to him. Vying for the Plinth Prize highlighted that, alongside his childhood.

He caught you easily, hand snapping out like a snake to grip your arm and yank you back to him. You collided with his chest. It was like you weren’t even trying. Not really. Just toying with him.

“Am I a game to you?” Coriolanus hissed into your ear, wrapping you in his arms. “Something for you to play?”

“I haven’t done anything to you! I hardly even know you!” you defended, but it just made him hold you tighter.

“I know you,” he implored, fighting against your squirming. He lost balance and when you fell to the ground, you took him with you. Coriolanus got you onto your back, sitting on your thighs, gripping your wrists in his hands to keep you from swinging at him. You let out panicked breaths, staring up at him. “I know more than you think.”

Something about the position made the front of his pants begin to feel constricting.

“Coriolanus, you’re frightening me,” you enunciated, as if trying to reason with him.

“I’m not being unreasonable,” Coriolanus grit out, working to maintain his composure.

“What?” you questioned, brows pinching together, a deep frown on your face. Confused and scared. Coriolanus used to feel that way. “Just let me go.”

“And then what? You go back to ignoring me? No I can’t… I can’t go back to that. If you just give me a chance I can show you.”

Coriolanus didn’t know what happened next.

Tigris told him it was like he left his own head, sometimes. She said he’d get so caught up, he wouldn’t notice things. At the time he had laughed. If anyone stayed aware, it was him.

It wasn’t that he left his head, but got lost in it. Lost in his own inner monologue to realize what he was doing.

In this case, what he’d done.

Far too busy thinking of ways to convey everything he wanted to say to you, how to make you understand, visualizing your reaction, he’d already acted.

Maybe there were two people living in his mind. One with a conscience, one without. Or perhaps that was just something he used to justify his less than decent actions. An excuse. He’d never let himself know the truth. Not really. Not yet.

What he did know was what he could see. You, beneath him, clothes torn from your body. The only thing left was a shirt. Too much effort, apparently. Your wrists were snatched together in one of his hands.

The power stirred something within him.

One might say he was out of excuses when he reached for the zipper of his pants, but no one else was here, were they?

Your mouth was moving. Speaking. Maybe even yelling. Looking at him, looking around the room. He couldn’t hear a sound but his own heart thumping in his ears paired with his own eager breaths. Was that normal?

He moved, wedging himself between your legs, nudging them apart to make room for himself.

“It’s just us,” Coriolanus spoke, loud enough to hear himself. You flinched. “No one’s here.”

He gripped himself, stroking his cock, lining himself up with your entrance. His patience was running incredibly thin.

Tears pricked in your eyes. You stopped struggling at his words, accepting it for what it was. Good.

“Why are you doing this?”

He heard your voice clearly, that time, despite the strain in your tone.

Coriolanus observed you carefully, squeezing your wrists together in one hand and lovingly caressing your hip with the other.

He finally understood the answer you’d given before. He found it fitting now.

“I don’t know.”

To him, it was the truth.

The moment Coriolanus pressed himself inside of you, it was as if the rest of the world disappeared. After so long of wanting you in every way, shape, or form, this was long overdue.

“You’re perfect for me,” he breathed out. Coriolanus gave a shove of his hips, his gaze falling to your mouth as an unwilling yelp slipped out. “I knew you would be.”

You were tight, too tight, even. Unwelcoming. Yet still, you felt like home.

His hand—the one that was on your hip—drifted between your legs. He found your clit, running his thumb in small circles, trying to ease the pressure you must’ve been feeling.

Coriolanus did not want to hurt you.

He looked into unfocused eyes. Where were you? Were you trying to be somewhere else?

He let your hands go. You didn’t move to slap him or shove him or anything. You were learning.

He leaned over you more, reaching for you face with his now free hand, and ran his thumb over your cheek, encouraging your gaze to actually meet his. He smiled softly when you did. You got more beautiful every second he looked at you. It was even better when he could see you were present.

Coriolanus found himself unable to resist it, so he gave into the urge to press his lips to yours. A real kiss, this time.

Your lips were softer than he’d imagined. You made a noise when his tongue tasted your mouth. His kiss was hungry—aggressive, even. But he’d waited so long he didn’t know how to contain himself.

Your body reacted to his touch. Your bent knees inched up his hips to accommodate him, and your walls were becoming slick, accepting the invasion.

A deep moan escaped him, cock throbbing inside you at the feel. The sound was muffled by his lips pressed to yours, but he still felt vulnerable, giving himself to you in this way.

Coriolanus pulled back from the kiss, only to rest his forehead against yours and breathe out a small puff of air from his lips.

“I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you. Not even the Plinth Prize,” he confessed in a whisper.

“What’s the difference?” You finally spoke, voice wavering. “You have to earn the prize?” The accusing tone felt like a slap.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Coriolanus muttered, eyes boring into yours. “You’ll see.”

He gave you one more searing kiss before moving his hips.

A gasp that morphed into a moan clawed its way up your throat. The sound was like music to his ears. He wanted to hear it again.

He began to move more consistently, finding a pace that suited him. Rough enough to keep you present, but not so harsh as to hurt you. He wanted you to enjoy yourself, even if you were trying to avoid it.

Still figuring you out, Coriolanus found your sweet spot with a hard thrust, causing you to wince. Instinctively, you tried to push him away, just like you had before, not wanting to surrender.

You stilled when you felt his hand. He hardly realized how he’d reacted until he felt your throat bob beneath his palm.

Coriolanus retracted his hand, like your skin and shot a volt through him. His movements slowed to a stop.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized earnestly, brushing the hand through your hair gently. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your chest heaved as you breathed shaky breaths through your nose. Your lips pressed together in a line.

You weren’t going to dignify him with a response. In a way, he understood.

Coriolanus locked his arms under your body and in a surge of strength, pulled you from the ground and into his lap. He hugged you against him, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Forgive me,” he requested softly.

You shifted in his lap, adjusting yourself to find comfort in the new position. You did not speak.

He slammed his hips up, forcing a gasp from your lips. That was something, wasn’t it?

You pulled back, and he did it again. And again. And again.

You fell against him, jarred by the change in his movements as he thrust into you. He liked it, feeling you in his lap, your chest against his, leaving you no choice but to hold onto him.

His lips latched onto the skin of your neck as he moved, barring his teeth and nipping the skin. You reacted as if he were venomous, straining away from him, but he’d left his mark.

You could pretend all you wanted that you didn’t like him, but Coriolanus could feel your body reacting to his. He could feel the way your walls squeezed around him, drawing him in, and how your body quivered as he pushed you closer to your edge.

“Just let go,” Coriolanus whispered, holding you tighter. He cradled the back of your head against him as he moved inside of you. Soothing and rough at the same time. “It’s okay, I know you want to.”

“Shut up,” you hissed into his neck, hands finding his chest.

Were you really going to try and get away from him? It was a bit late for that.

Coriolanus moved his hand between your bodies, finding your clit with the pad of his thumb, speeding along the process.

“What was that?” he taunted, feeling your legs start to shake.

A moan tore from your throat as you came around him, body slumping against his as he shoved himself deeper inside you. He wanted to feel your body tensed around him.

“That’s it,” he drawled, pressing his face to the side of your head. He inhaled, letting your scent flood him. Every sense was overwhelmed by you and if anything, it made him hunger for even more.

You became more pliable in your daze, going easily when Coriolanus laid you back down on the cold ground. He planted one hand on the ground near your head, where he held most of his weight, while the other rested on the base of your neck. Not squeezing, just resting. Reminding you of before.

Now that he’d taken care of you, made you realize the pleasure he could inflict upon you, it was his turn. Coriolanus was relentless with the thrust of his cock inside you, stretching you around him, groaning with nearly every movement. You felt so good, he never wanted to leave the warmth of your body.

You shifted beneath him, squirming as the intense feeling. Coriolanus was tempted to drag it out, to watch your face as the pleasure became too much for you to handle.

If it wasn’t for the desire to fill you, to claim you, he would’ve. There would be more times after this, he’d ensure it. He didn’t own a lot, but he treasured the things that he did.

“I can’t let you go, not now.” He meant to keep it inside his head, but the words spilled out. “You’re the only thing I want.”

At that moment, it was true.

Coriolanus gave one final shove of his hips before spilling inside of you. It crashed over him in an unexpected wave. His whole body shivered with pleasure at the feel of your body milking him. You wanted him. Your denial would eventually fade. He was sure of it.

Coriolanus let out a heavy sigh of your name as he watched your face. You’d turned your head, wincing as he filled you to the brim.

“Hey,” Coriolanus said when he finished, voice low. He ran a delicate hand over your face, persuading you to open your eyes. “We’re okay.”

As much as he didn’t want to, Coriolanus withdrew from you. You’d given up fighting against him, so he took the opportunity to help you redress. You were so pliant, it was like dressing a doll.

You rested your arms on your knees when he made you sit up. He wasn’t keeping you from moving from the floor, you chose not to.

Coriolanus watched you cautiously, searching for the same fire in you before, trying to figure out if he’d somehow snuffed it out.

There was a nagging in his gut. It was only for a brief second, but his confidence wavered.

“Can you talk to me?” he pressed, laying a hand on your shoulder and he knelt across from you, pants readjusted.

It was as if nothing happened, but you both knew that was untrue.

“Why should I?” You wrinkled your nose as you focused on the ground.

“Because, I care about you,” Coriolanus replied without thought, gaze softening. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I don’t think you care for me,” you said in a tone so hushed, Coriolanus wasn’t sure if you even meant for him to hear. Then, you met his eyes. The fire had only been dulled, not put out. “I think you’re a liar, Coriolanus Snow.”

His hands fell to clasp yours. He brought one to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the back of your palm. You eyed him as if he were some sort of predator, but he managed a smile nonetheless.

“Let me prove it to you, and you’ll come to learn you’ve been wrong about me all along.”

[spicy-apple-pie]

I WANNA HEAR ABOUT THE COMIC >:))))))

I did warn you…

Okay so idk if a lot of people know this, but Damian was originally given up for adoption right after he was born before his story was reconned.

So in this comic, Damian is 9 years old and in the foster system in Gotham, unknowing who his parents are. He’s never stays long in a home because he’s very aggressive. He’s smart though, so he orders a DNA testing kit to hopefully find a relative to take him. Imagine his shock when he finds out his father is Bruce Wayne.

So this 9 year old walks into WE by himself, toddles up to the secretary, and asks to see Bruce Wayne. The secretary is like “haha okay, let me help you find your parents.” And Damian is like “you can. My dad is Bruce Wayne.”

And then Tim shows up!! And he’s like, “who’s your dad?”

And Damian is suddenly really nervous and shyly passes Tim the DNA test results. Tim looks them over, and Damian thinks he’s going to get turned away. But then Tim smiles at him and asks him if he has time for a drink.

Damian basically explains his life story over a cup of hot chocolate to Tim. Tim listens and tells him that he’ll make sure Bruce sees it and gives him his number if he has any questions (Damian doesn’t have a phone). Damian gets up to throw out his cup but Tim is like “oh I can throw that out for you. Talk to you soon!”

Cut to the BatCave where Bruce is staring at the DNA test results. Showing him and Talia as the parents. Tim stands behind him. “I doubled and tripled checked.” He says. “Not to mention he’s the spitting image of you.” He mumbles under his breath, knowing that Bruce isn’t in the mood for jokes right now. Alfred places some Tylenol beside Bruce using his butler powers to sense his on coming headache.

“And you said he walked into the lobby by self?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah, he said he took the bus.”

“Oh dear,” Alfred comments, “that is certainly not safe for a boy his age in Gotham. I wonder if his social worker knows about that…”

So the next morning, Damian finds that he’s out of custody from his foster parents. And he’s like “but I didn’t do anything this time!” And his social workers like “no, they’re getting charged with child endangerment. We already have a place lined up for you.”

Lo and behold, his new foster home is Wayne Manor. And he meets Bruce for the first time and he’s really nervous. And Bruce has to turn away because he almost starts crying. And Damian asks Alfred if he did something wrong and Alfred’s like “no, he’s just very happy to see you.”

And that’s basically it. But I also have this idea of how he discovers his Dad is Batman.

He comes downstairs in the early morning for a snack before going back to sleep to find Red Hood raiding their fridge. He runs to Bruce and he’s freaking because fucking RED HOOD broke into their house.

And Bruce groans and is mildly annoyed about and Damian is like “???? Does this happen often????” Bruce brings him downstairs and Red Hood is still there, but making a grilled cheese with his helmet off.

“Jay, how many times do we need to tell you know masks in the house?”

“I dunno. How many fucking children are you going to adopt?” He gestures to Damian hiding behind Bruce.

“He doesn’t know yet, Jay. I was going to wait until he was more comfortable.”

Jason is a little sheepish because he did give the kid a bit of a fright, so he turns around to apologize and introduce himself. And instantly is like “holy shit, that’s a bio kid.”

“Language, Jay…”

“Don’t language me, where the fuck did he come from???”

“What is happening??!!” Damian finally yells.

And then Bruce shows him the BatCave.

I did warn you I’d talk your ear off. I came up with this circa. 2018 - 2019 but I feel like I finally have the skill to draw it. And I honestly fell in love with it again, so I might lol.

Edit: I did it

[harmoonix]

ᨵׁׅᝯׁꫀׁׅܻɑׁׅ֮ꪀׁׅ꯱ׁׅ֒ꪱׁׅժׁׅ݊ꫀׁׅܻ

(Astrology Observations)

- Aquarius Risings are good at communicating in love thanks to their Virgo/Leo axis of 7th and 8th house signs, they may also crave a lot of physical touch

- Aqua/Scorpio/Capricorn Risings can have Sirene eyes, and if you have Pluto - Asc aspects you have the same thing

- Virgo/Cancer and Taurus Risings on the other side can have doe/deer eyes shape, they really look like Bambie (the deer)

- Sun aspecting Chiron natives happens to have other people throwing their insecurities on them, like your friend feels insecure and immediately throws that energy on you

- Chiron in the 7th house is both a curse and a blessing, sometimes you met hurt people already sometimes you're the one who hurts or heals them

- Chiron in the 12th house can show your subconscious is in pain, and can mostly be from your past life, does it happens to have a lot of deja-vu?

- Mercury in the 7th house are so good at talking and expressing their love language. I really love how comfortable they can get around people

- Mars in the 11th house sometimes creates a "love-hate relationship" between you and your friends, even conflicts can rise up

- Venus in Aquarius Degrees (11°, 23°) can really have an outstanding fashion style because of the uniqueness degrees of Aquarius energy

- Mercury at 8°, 20° degrees they can literally talk about every taboo topics without any fear of judgement. Their talk is freely open to everything

- Pisces Sun/Venus/Moons/Rising can get influenced more easier than others and I can say is that because of their neptunian energy

- Jupiter Dominant natives are wise from a young age, they perceive things differently than other people. They're also very lucky in their life path

- Venus in Fire Signs loves to be chased in love. Like that's a way to show you're interested in them, sometimes they can play hard to get too

- Earth Moons are the most stable people I know both physically and mentally, their are so strong in both things but sometimes they can have a hard time to balance those things out

- The Ethereal energy of a Virgo Moon is so naturally beautiful, they are the best supporters of people. So charming, calm and kind

- Uranus in the 2nd house can end up buying things they never expected before, for example you never expect to buy a phone you liked before

- Venus conjunct Pluto is so "Obsessed" vibes, people get so obsessed with them very easily, and you know they are damn loyal to you

- Pisces Moons & Moon in the 12th house have an energy like they are sometimes aware of what happens around them and sometimes they are not

- Neptune & Jupiter/Uranus in the 12th house are so spiritually connected with their subconscious, they can sense entities and often experience goosebumps (Spirit Signal)

- South Node in the 9th house can indicate that in a past life you gave your life for religion/God/etc.. and you need to focus more on yourself in this one especially at expressing yourself

- Sun & Lilith aspects are the most rebellious people you'll met, but they also have a side magnetism to them that makes people to like them

- Guys imagine having a man who wants a traditional wife/spouse but you don't have any 4th house placements like 👁️👄👁️ (Traditional guys scare the sht out of me like go away)

- Sagittarius Sun/Moon/Rising/Mars natives are so wild. Like they can be the wildest people you'll met through your life and do the most craziest things with

- If you have an empty 7th house just look at its ruler everytime you want to discover more about your future spouse (specific person)

For example if you have 7H in Taurus look at your Venus. 7H in Aquarius look at both Saturn and Uranus as your 7th house rulers

- Mars at Virgo Degrees (6°. 18°) have a good looking/attractive waist. Virgo rules upon that body part and it tells you about your attractiveness

- This is just between us but Mercury - Pluto aspects can be good at lying, if someone has prominent or strong aspects between those they are good liars

- Saturn in the 6th house natives are both productive and tired in the same way. Like you try to be productive or to work and suddenly you get tired.. damn

- I have Saturn quincunx Venus and honestly the energy it feels like having Saturn opposite Venus is just so hard sometimes to fall in love especially if you have questions about a specific person

- Asteroid Juno (3) sextile/trine/conjunct Mars are looking for a really hot, fierce, sparkling relationship like they want everything that's intense

- My asteroid Groom (5129) is at 1° (Aries Degrees family, 1°, 13°, 25°) and I read more about those degrees and I find that the spouse can have some dominant, confident, powerful, leader traits basically describing an Aries

- 2nd house placements are always hungry or thinking about food. Especially Sun/Moon/Venus in the 2nd house are really power hungry

- Sometimes Pluto/Neptune in the 6th house can indicate problems with health and that you'll need to prioritize your health

- Moon in the 8th house can indicate that in general the women in your family could've have suffered a lot, like your mother/grandmother/grand-grand mother etc..

- Water signs in the 5th house can indicate a passion/talent towards swimming/surfing 🌊

- Sagittarius/Jupiter in the 11th house can indicate that you make friends easily or just connecting with people easily

- In the vedic chart Chitra is my Nakshatra (2nd Pada) if you have the same star in the vedic chart is like a combination between the materialistic and spiritual world and you need to find a balance in between (What I love about this is that Chitra's symbol is a shell 🐚 and I love shells with all my life)

- Neptune in the 7th house natives can create an illusion about their partners, like creating something that is not real about them, sometimes even fake scenarios

- Gosh people with the 10th house placements really focus mostly in their lives on their career/job/career path like this is so important for them. They really want to succeed

- Venus conjunct Mars or Venus and Mars in the same house makes the native to more passionate towards the lovers in their lives, they're full of surprises

- Neptune square/opposite Moon cannot be aware of their spiritual side or aware of their intuition, but they are so powerful when they search more about it

- Lilith in Water Signs really have beautiful eyes, you will get lost in their ocean eyes 👀, just like a sirene in her natural habitat

With all the love and peace have a good day today

🐚 Harmoonix 🐚

[pandoraspurgatory]

MHA Boys Porn Preferences

Haven’t done all the boys here, just some of my favs <3

nsfw, porn, can’t be bothered to list them all but weird stuff

Izuku Midoriya

Izuku was one of those men who started off watching the top most recommended on PH. So for a while there he watched quite a bit of the ‘pool boy’ and ‘pizza delivery guy’ genres. After discovering his tastes he loves hentai, though it has to be a few episodes and plot based. This works against him often, as he gets emotionally attached to the characters.

Katsuki Bakugo

People assume Katsuki watches hardcore BDSM and dom/sub genres. Though that is so far from it! Bakugo watches couple videos, often homemade ones with fuck all views. He’s tried the professional studio made porn but he physically can’t cum from it. He has to watch the couple be in love and intimate. Despite his gruff exterior - Intimacy is his weakness and it’s what he desperately craves.

Shoto Todoroki

I hate to say it, I really do. This man gets off on Mommy ASMR. It started off with wholesome YouTube videos of Mommy girlfriend ASMR to help him relax though very quickly descended into the erotic kind. He wouldn’t ever call a girl ‘Mommy’, though the audios have him weak.

Ejiro Kirishima

Kirishima often finds himself tugging his cock at ‘Muscle Mommys’. He also doesn’t mind toned dudes as well. He isn’t sure whether it’s the fact that it’s so ‘manly’ or he desperately wants to be under a toned and built man. He will figure it out someday

Denki Kaminari

Face fucking!! He loves it, especially when there’s dripping mascara and lots of spit involved. He can watch those videos for hours on end, he’s addicted. Kaminari has even tried a VR face fucking porn video, even though he ended up motion sick. It was in his top 5 best wanks

Tomura Shigaraki

Femdom all the way. He doesn’t like to out any effort into watching porn and imagining stupid scenarios. Tomura will turn off the lights, put on a Femdom Cum Instructions at full volume and obey whatever mistress he’s listening to at that moment. On occasion he will commission a personal femdom video as a treat to himself

[georgescitadel]

I often get the question, “How do you write women?” or “How do you write a dwarf?” Some of that can be resolved by research or talking to people. I had a correspondence with a fan when I was writing the first and second books, long ago, who was a paraplegic, paralyzed from the waist down, and he gave me a lot of valuable insight about how to write Bran and what it would be like. That kind of information from other people, you can never duplicate.

- George R.R. Martin, Ideas At The House (2013)

There are things we all go through, but there are experiences that I haven't had, and when I'm writing about one of those, I try to talk to people who have had that experience. When I first had Bran crippled by his fall from the tower, I had one fan who was paraplegic, and he and I exchanged a number of emails about what it was like to be paraplegic because I could try to imagine that, but I don't actually know it. When I wrote the scene where Sansa has her first period, I talked to a number of women and asked, “What was it like to have your first period? Was it scary? Was it nothing? Was it painful? Tell me about it!” I got about 16 different stories that varied very widely. People who have actually been in combat, I talk to before the combat scenes, and that too varies widely. That's sort of interesting, and, of course, I've read a lot about that. There are some experiences that only women have had in our society, and when I tackle them, I try to consult with women.

- George R.R. Martin, NIFFF Masterclass (2014)

You do have to research the things that can be researched, and sometimes that involves books; sometimes it actually involves talking to people. Those are the trickiest things, if it's a human experience. I'll give you a couple of examples from Game of Thrones. When Bran gets thrown out the window and paralyzed. I'm not paralyzed, I don't have any close friends who are paralyzed, but I wanted to try to get that as accurate as I could, so I did a fair amount of reading about that. I also had a couple of fans who corresponded with me through email about the problems of someone who was paralyzed from the waist down and what it would be like. I also have a scene where Sansa, who is engaged to Joffrey but hasn't flowered yet—hasn't had her first period—so she can't be married by the traditions of Westeros, then has it and is eligible, by medieval standards as well as the standards of Westeros, to be bedded and wedded and bred. Of course, she reacts to that with considerable panic. But I also wanted to know what it is like, and that led to a number of embarrassing conversations with women I knew about: “When did you have your first period? What was it like? Was it painful? Tell me about it!” What I discovered was a wide variety of different stories. It's not always the same thing, so I had to try to make sense of that and do something that had authentic truth to it. Hopefully, I did, but human experience is variable. No matter how much you research, there will be somebody out there who had a different experience, and then they'll write you an annoyed email saying, “You got that all wrong. You don't know anything about that.” Well… okay. But I tried.

- George R.R. Martin, Author Event Series: Featuring Marlon James (2019)

[daydreamcloudshiding]

#6 Astrology Observations

People with 2nd house stellium are generous but also protective with their resources. Like the more you show them that you want/need their help, the more they will withhold it from you

People with prominent Leo placements in natal chart have such sensitive ego, like the moment you make them feel like they are less important, they will remember that sh*t forever

Although, ironically, Leo placements are really good in boosting someone else's ego as well

Aquarius people are the funniest people I've ever met. They can be so loving and caring but in a light-hearted way

Prominent Saturn placement in composite chart have feel like one of you will be looked up to, almost like a parent or teacher. This also works in synastry chart

In my experience, Virgos always have that selfish streak about them. Makes me want to kind of gatekeep certain things from them lol

In my life, a lot of Sagittarius women fell for Cancer men so much??? It's weird though, because I always perceive Sagittarius women as this ambitious, freedom-seeking, and sometimes even reckless in their emotional expression. But they ended up baby-ing these Cancer men

North node conjunct Chiron in composite chart is very karmic and hurtful, at least that's my experience. It's like the universe will forced the both of you to grow and change, face your deepest fears and even the worst version of yourselves.

Mars in 8th house composite: The Jealous Couple. The moment some b*tch tried to touch / talk to their significant other inappropriately, all hell breaks loose. Just don't. Even the most chill couple I know just won't sit quietly, they will fight with you. And don't get me wrong, this isn't about one person gets jealous of the other. It's both. Both of them have this attitude towards the relationship

Lilith in 1st house composite, both become each other's sexiest and darkest fantasies

I feel like a lot of people are obsessed with 8th house synastry. People actually imagined it to be this hades/persephone type sh*t where one person is obsessed with the other -reminds me of those creepy booktok girls who fantasize about getting kidnapped by handsome dude. While in real life, 8th house synastry can be so emotionally abusive and the worst part is, not one person in this person meant any harm or even have the obsessive qualities before this relationship. Which is why some people talk about this placement as if the people in it is "losing themselves", because they do might be changed, but not always for the better. Or at least, these people will be the worst version of themselves before they get better. In real life, if you have s*icidal tendencies or depression, this type of relationship can trigger you so much. Oftentimes, this person that you have 8th house synastry with represents both your insecurities and desire

There's something about Pisceans that somehow seems like "the perfect victim" with how passive and innocent they are, only later people discover how they hate feeling trapped or abused in anyway. The moment they feel slighted, they will remember it forever however due to their somewhat light-hearted and dreamy nature, they seems to forget about it so easily but they aren't. It's only a matter of time before they leave. Somehow, some way, with their passivity, it seems to others that they will just "accept" whatever treatment from others, but then you notice with time, they will be withdrawn and avoid you little by little. Piscesan reminds me sooooo much of Sagittarius (and yes both are ruled by Jupiter, which represents expansion) so the idea that they're this harmless, passive, innocent little baby who will stay there no matter what is so not true. They will avoid confrontation and will not argue with you about how wrong you treated them, but they will find an escape route

Sagittarius women really out there being the baddies and somehow fall for questionable men 😃

Venus in 7th house in the Solar Return Chart does not always means that you will find love that year. It could also means that justice will be in your favor

Those people with placements that aligns with your mercury sign can help balance your mental health

I'm not even sure if I've written this before, but all water signs are equally vindictive. They don't ever forget sh*t you did to them, especially the girls

Scorpios, especially the males, are attracted to dark, dangerous personalities, probably because in some sense they recognized that characteristics within themselves. However, once they become the said victims of those dark personalities, they will become too spiritual/religious, or further affected their narrow-mindedness (if they are already narrow-minded) and those who aren't narrow-minded initially, they will start to become one. They can even turn hateful. This is because in my opinion, like most water signs, they are can be prone to naivety. They genuinely thought that these dark personalities will do harm to others, but somehow not to them because they too recognized these characteristics in them. But these dark personalities, or just messed up people are not picky about their victims, they just victimize anyone in their way. This can create power struggles in the relationship or make the relationship too transactional because Scorpios will want to overpower the other, and would rather stay in this relationship (until they win the war, or get even, revengeful, etc) than to just stay the f away from these toxic relationships. This can create harmful patterns in their behavior where future relationships with others/new lovers will be filled with manipulations and "tactics" rather than sincerity

[foone]

I want a human zoology textbook.

Zoology, as in the study of animals. Like, a study of how humans work, done by an author that is not human.

I specifically want this for a couple reasons:

1. Descriptive, not prescriptive: don't tell me what the author thinks humans should do or how they should be. Tell me what they do. Observationally!

2. No bias towards "nature". I don't particularly care what the author is imagining humans are like in some "garden of eden" unfallen state. I want it to reference how humans ARE.

3. No morality applied to this! What do humans DO, not what you think they should do, or how they should be. And most importantly, no self-censorship in order to avoid offending some of the humans that disagree with ways people live.

And the reason I want this is because of how biology textbooks/wiki pages get written, where even if they try to be progressive they're still written from this weird perspective where they're explaining based on old ideas and the progressive stuff gets a footnote.

Like it'll be "humans have two genders, male and female. This is determined from their chromosomes, XY for male and xx for female."

And then you scroll past two pages for men and another two pages for women, and then it has one subsection that covers non-binary people and intersex people. And it's like: well then integrate that into your main statement!

It's like the author's worldview is still "there's two genders and everyone is born as one" but they've been forced to accept there are some weird exceptions but the core worldview is unchanged. And it's understandable! Wrong, but understandable: the grew up in a world that is quite strong on the "there are only two genders" ideology and doesn't like to remember that intersex people exist.

But like, imagine if you tried to do this as a zoologist. You're like "hey, all bees are female!" and then someone points out the rare male drones and they're like "oh okay I'll update my zoology textbook."

And now it reads:

All bees are female. Most are workers, and one is the queen.

(a couple sections go pass)

Drones: recent science has discovered that some bees are born male. These rare exceptions live short lives where they fertilize a queen and then die.

And it's like, no? Drones are very important to how a hive lives and they can't survive without them?

And we're constantly doing the same thing to humans and it's just bad science. Like, sure, maybe you could have the theory that "humans come in two genders: male and female" but as soon as you see one non-binary person, you have to discard that theory: it has been proven false! It's like not believing in other galaxies after Henrietta Swan Leavitt figured out how Cepheid Variables worked.

Add to that the "nature" thing. Like, you can make a sort of argument about nature vs artificial settings for a lot of species: the whole alpha/beta wolf thing came about because it turns out wolves act differently in captivity compared to the wild, so it makes sense to study how the vast majority of wolves live, not a small group you stuffed into a small area with unusual conditions. It's like saying the lifespan of goldfish is under 5 minutes, based on your study of them in this dry box you put them in.

But humans are different: we are tool-users who build new environments for ourselves. And while you can talk about how humans living in different environments act differently, it doesn't make a lot of sense to call one of them "artificial". All of them are made by us, and humans always do this. This means all environments are natural (because building environments for ourselves is what we naturally do) and all environments are artificial: we always alter our environments to better suit us! That's one of the things we naturally do!

And as for morality, it's about not ignoring things humans do regularly because you think it's weird or you think they shouldn't.

Like that tweet where someone pointed out that lots of species can change gender. Clown fish are a big one, some frogs, a couple birds, some lizards, and humans.

And people often have an immediate knee-jerk reaction of "that doesn't count!" for the last entity in that list. Why? Because we do it (usually) with clothes and makeup and medication, instead of just "naturally"? Bullshit. We're naturally TOOL USERS. Of course we use tools to change gender. We use tools to do EVERYTHING. That's natural for us.

So yeah. I think it'd be refreshing and enlightening to have a zoology textbook written about humans with this detached non-human perspective. An unbiased description of what humans are and do, rather than one irrevocably tinged with ideas of what humans should be and should do.

Basically I want to load up Vulcan Wikipedia and check the "Humans" article.