#it didn't end in gratuitous smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honeyhotteoks · 8 months

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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,”

#honeyhotteoks updates #honeyhotteoks fics #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang #yeosang #ateez #yeosang ff #yeosang fic #yeosang smut

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subbmissivesuccubus · 1 year

Text

Bully- Part 1

Summary: Your bully's, Gojo and Geto, find out an embarrassing secret of yours and will never let you live it down. But maybe, you don't want them to.

Disclaimer: 18+ fic. Gojo X Fem reader X Geto. Humiliation kink. Free use kink. Gojo and Geto being mean. Bully Geto and Gojo. Dub-con warning. It is subtly implied that reader wants and enjoys what's happening to her, but the boys don't care to ask for consent.

a/n: Sorry it took so long wah but here's part one to the series. I plan to write many more cause damn it is so fun haha. I promise, the next part will have all the gratuitous smut and ruthless fucking this premise deserves. Consider this an appetizer <3

Taglist: @bisexuawolfsalt @candycandy00 @nekonanamii @sirimiripetrichor @collectionofdolls @dreamsxmerci

You sighed as you walked towards your classroom, dragging your feet, knowing full well what was waiting for you. It was the end of the day and it was your turn to clean up the classroom and just your luck- you were paired up with the two people you couldn't stand.

Gojo and Geto. The two 'strongest' sorcerers of your school. Their reputation preceded them. One of them was the prodigal son of a famous family with a deadly technique while the other had an incredibly useful and powerful skill as well. Everyone disliked them to some extent, but nobody could deny that the Jujutsu world would be worse without them.

Which is why it always confused you as to why these two powerful men seemed to love bullying you.

They were never malicious but damn if they weren't annoying. They loved to tease and prank you, joking about how weak you were and how you couldn't do anything by yourself. Forget the fact that you were actually quite strong and capable- but compared to them- everyone was weak.

But they seemed to enjoy bullying you especially even if there were classmates who were of lower grade than you. Stealing your drink right before you were going to take it from the vending machine, taking unflattering pictures of you and distributing it, embarrassing you in front of strangers by treating you like a dumb baby in front of them, making loud sex noises if you were on the phone with someone, tossing away your books and stealing your money-

Gojo spanking your ass casually a few times, Geto licking off some chocolate that was smeared next to your lips like it was a normal thing to do and even that one time when they cornered you in the hallway and convinced you to let them grope your boobs:

"If you let us squeeze your tits, we'll leave you alone for a week~" Gojo had said, wangling his fingers comically as they both stared at your chest like perverts. The offer was too good to give up which led to them squeezing your clothed tits for ten second each before they left, laughing at how easy it was to use you. And of course, they continued to bother you anyway.

You could have made a complaint to the higher ups about their behavior, something your friends have told you to do but you refused. You didn't want to be the wuss who was running to the elders over something so childish when everyone has an important job to do. Dealing with some bullying was easy compared to fighting to the death with some curses.

Besides, if you reported on them...

You steeled yourself before opening to the door to the classroom, met with the sight you expected: Gojo and Geto, lounging around, not doing any work as they waited for you to do it for them because, in their words: 'the weaklings need to put in more effort'.

But what you were not expecting to see was your phone in Gojo's hand using earplugs that he had connected to the device. You knew you left your phone in the locker assigned to you in the hallways which meant these two managed to pick the lock and take it. But the anger over that was dwarfed by your sudden realization:

The way they were looking at you as you closed the door, giving you a shocked look but you could tell there was an underlying hint of pure glee.

Uh oh.

"Give me back my-"

You yelped as Geto suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, barely giving you a second to collect yourself before he wrapped his arms around your neck, catching you in a choke-hold. Before you could even react, he pulled your back against him and manhandled you as he sat on a classroom bench and forced you to sit between his legs, wrapping said legs around you. You were completely caught, your nails doing nothing even as you dug it into his arms.

"Holy fuck!" Gojo explained, eyes wide and a huge grin on his face as he continued to listen to the audio on your phone, looking over at you and Geto opposite of the table he was sitting on, "You're a perverted freak, aren't you?"

"Give it back!" you snapped, grunting in annoyance as you tried to break out of Geto's hold but the man simply laughed as he held you tighter, his legs not budging.

"This is some nasty stuff!" Gojo continued, "Who knew a weakling like you would be such a masochistic slut~" he removed the earbuds from the socket and increased the volume as he confirmed what you had feared:

"Yeah? you like that don't you? Little slut~" a man's voice echoed throughout the room from your phone speakers, "Everybody looking at you as I fuck this sloppy little pussy~ Oh this cunt is dripping for me- did you like being spanked in front of them so much?"

It was an erotic audio you had saved on your phone, one of many that you enjoyed in private. You had even saved it under non-suspicious names which meant that the boys were digging through your files to find something- and they did.

"This isn't even the only one we heard, you know." Gojo explained as he dangled the phone in front of you mockingly, "What was it again? A girl getting humiliated by her teacher in front of her classmates-"

"A girl getting groped by her boyfriend on a crowded train." Geto recollected, his lips so close to your ear you could feel his hot breath dance against your skin.

"Being used as a free-use toy by a group of guys~" Gojo said, a giant shit eating grin on his face, "Seems like this one has a humiliation kink~"

"I'm not surprised." Geto said, leaning into your ear and blowing into it, making you gasp and jump, "No wonder she never reported us to the principle for all the times we preyed on her. She was probably enjoying it."

"Oh!" Gojo said like he just realized it, "Was that why? Was your pussy growing wet every time we bullied you, little slut?"

"Fuck you." you spat out, both of the men laughing in response.

"Yeah, I bet you wanted us to fuck you." Geto growled into your ear, your shiver not going unnoticed by him, "You're fucking loving this~"

"Why don't we check?" Gojo suggested, cutting off anything you might have said, his hands inching towards your belt, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, "Let's see for ourselves if we made your pussy wet~"

"Gojo-"

"That's a great plan!" Geto interrupted, laughing as he tightened his hold your your neck, making you gasp, "Take those pants off. So baggy and loose- what a waste of a nice ass."

"I agree." Gojo said, finger now running over the metal of your belt, "it hides so much. With what I felt everytime I've spanked you- your pants do you no favors."

"Don't you- fucking dare!" You choked out, face turning slightly red from the lack of air and from Gojo slowly starting to fiddle with your belt.

"Oh, what are you gonna do about it, little slut?" Gojo teased, licking his lips as his long, lithe fingers started to tug at the leather of your belt, "Look at your fucking face- that look in your eyes? You're loving this."

"No- I'm not- fuck-" you sputtered out, failing to convey your frustrations. You couldn't stand these two assholes. Constantly picking on you and thinking they were so high and mighty- treating you like a bug on their path. So smug and narcissistic and not caring about anyone but themselves-

But as much as you'd hate to admit it, you couldn't deny that your body was throbbing. Everytime they bullied you, you felt that heat. Your heart-rate quickened and your pussy would grow wet, leaving you a confused mess every-time you got bullied. When it first happened, you didn't understand what was happening. Through some internet searching, you found those audios and realized you weren't the only one out there.

A masochist with a humiliation kink.

And without them knowing, the two guys you hate were fulfilling those fantasies for you.

Well now, they were more than aware.

"Come on, little bitch~" Geto cooed into your ear, his silky voice making you shudder, "Why settle with these audios when you can experience the real thing?"

"I...I..." you panted, heat rushing to your face and your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel your pussy dampen and had no doubt that if Gojo actually took your pants off, they'd see you be wet and needy.

"Too slow~" Gojo suddenly said, unbuckling your belt in a matter of seconds before ripping it off of you just as fast, throwing it aside. You yelped as you instinctively struggled, Geto laughing behind you as he tightened his hold on you even more, rendering you helpless. Gojo laughed as well, his bright blue eyes peeking from behind his glasses as you could see the gleam of excitement in them.

"You excited, little bitch?" Gojo cooed, licking his lips as his hands started trailing up your leg, running over the fabric of your pants as he inched up higher and higher. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, a rush of heat coursing through you.

"He asked you a question." Geto said, clicking his tongue as you refused to say anything, "Weren't you taught any manners?"

"Fucking- i'll kill you-" you gasped out, face growing redder as you heard Geto's growl of annoyance, feeling the vibration of his chest against your back. "Don't worry about it, Suguru." Gojo said, smirking as he started undoing the buttons of your pants, "We can punish her later for her disrespect. For now, I just want to get at this pussy~"

With a big grin, Gojo ripped your pants off of you in one fell swoop, making you squeal as he tossed it away. You shivered as your bare legs were exposed to the evening air as well as their lecherous stares. You could see Gojo's eyes trail up your legs before zoning in on your clothed pussy, the man letting out a snort as he took in your panties.

"Pink with a bow on? Really?" he joked, "how plain and not sexy."

"I think they're cute." Geto chimed in, also shamelessly staring down at your clothed cunt, "But it doesn't matter. It's not going to be on her for long, anyway."

"True." Gojo said with a nod as he hooked his finger into the waistband of your panties and pulled it out before letting go, allowing the elastic to slap back against you, "but next time, wear something sexier."

"I hate you- so much!" you snarled, face bright red, biting your lower lip as the white haired man looped his fingers back into the waistband of your panties, this time, very obviously wanting to get it off of you. You gasped, unable to stop your shivers as Gojo leaned forward and placed a kiss on your tummy, his tongue peeking out to lick at your skin as he slowly starting pulling your panties down. He laughed as you tried to squiggle out but your movements only made the slide of your panties all the more easier for him.

"Look at that~" Gojo gasped as your cunt got exposed, practically drooling as he stared like a pervert, a twinkle behind his blue eyes, "You might be a weakling but atleast you have a pretty pussy."

"Atleast she's good for something~" Geto teased, shuffling behind you and in that moment, you felt it. Something long, hard and thick pressed up against your back and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what that was. You gulped as you felt the imprint of Geto's cock against you, unable to help yourself as your eyes darted towards the front of Gojo's pants and sure enough: His erection was straining against it.

They were too focused on your cunt to notice where you were looking and you were too focused on their dicks to notice that your panties were now completely off and that Gojo had tossed the fabric aside. Geto immediately hooked his legs over your own before forcefully spreading them apart, leaving you wide and exposed to their perverted gazes. Gojo let out a whistle as he dragged a chair over before sitting on it, his face now right across your bare cunt.

"Fuck- fuck you- fuck you!" you gasped out and cursed, feeling lightheaded from the situation. "How does she look?" Geto asked, both of them ignoring you and you could hear the hunger in his voice and the sensation of his cock twitching against you. "Oh, she's perfect~" Gojo responded and you knew they were referring to your pussy as its own person- somehow giving it more praise and respect than they've ever given you, "And oh so wet~"

"I want to see." Geto demanded, not having the same view as Gojo, "Can't let you have all the fun."

"Sure thing, pal." Gojo said, not taking his eyes off of your pussy as he continued to stare, hand reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. "Gojo- don't you dare-" You barked out, understanding what he was going to do- but what you hoped sounded aggressive came out soft and subservient. The man simply snorted in response, ignoring your pleas as he opened up his phone camera and started taking pictures of your pussy. You shut your eyes and squealed everytime you heard the shutter of the camera, trembling body still held tightly in Geto's arms.

"Her hole clenches every-time I take a picture~" Gojo cooed, bringing a hand up to thumb at your pussy lips before spreading them apart even more, making your back arch against Geto, "And look at this little clit! So fucking cute!"

"Just show it to me already!" Geto snarled, impatient. "Alright, alright." Gojo responded with a roll of his eyes, standing up before turning the phone towards the two of you, a shot of your spread pussy on screen. You turned your head away and closed your eyes, ears ringing at how humiliated you felt-

and pussy dripping at how good it was.

"Oh, she does look delicious!" Geto praised, gripping your chin as he forced you to turn your head back towards the phone, making you look at the picture, "You have such a pretty cunt and you hid it from us for so long?"

You whined cutely as you looked at the picture- a closeup shot of your spread cunt with a clear view of your clit and hole, your cunt glistening with slick.

"Seriously!" Gojo barked as he started swiping, showing off the various photos of your pussy that were now in his possession, "If we knew all you wanted was some fucking, we'd have pounded this pussy ages ago! I've always wanted a sex toy."

"Don't you have like a dozen already?"

"Yeah, but I'm sure this bitch's cunt will feel way better than some silicone~"

"I hate you-" you gasped out, any and all fight leaving your bones (not that there was much to begin with) as you leaned your head against Geto's shoulder, "I hate you both- so much-"

"Yeah?" Geto asked, the tone in his voice clearly indicating that he wasn't taking you seriously, "Well, this pussy says otherwise."

He let go of your chin and snaked his hand down quickly to cup your pussy, making you yelp. You didn't know if what you felt was shame or relief that there was finally a hand on your cunt- finally some friction against your dripping womanhood. You tossed your head back, eyebrows furrowed and lip trapped under your teeth as Geto's long fingers started gliding through your pussy lips. The slick sound of him rubbing circles over your hole and collecting your wetness echoed through the room, the sound making your ears burn and your chest feel like it was on fire.

This is was so...so...

so fucking fun...

"She's loving this~" Gojo predicted accurately, eyes darting between your blissful expression and Geto's fingers toying with your body, "Fucking whore- slutty bitch- oh, we are going to have fun with you~"

"Her pussy is growing wetter by the second." Geto noted, cock fully erect and throbbing against you, his other arm slowly letting go of the hold around your neck, confident that you were going to stay right there like a good little girl. You gasped as the head spinning pressure was finally off of you, taking in a few deep breaths but choking on it just as quickly as the man started using his slick covered fingers to run circles over your clit.

"You're dripping all over the table, little bitch~" Gojo teased, taking a couple more pictures before pocketing it, "Fuck- let me feel too- or- actually-"

He sat back on the chair, pulling it closer before gripping your thighs, an eager grin on his face:

"I'm gonna eat~"

"Get used to this, little bitch." Geto growled into your ear, pulling his hand away from your cunt and snickering at your whine of disappointment, "You're our toy now and we are going to do whatever we want to you, understand?"

His hands came upto your chest, lithe fingers starting to undo the buttons of your shirt one by one, revealing a patch of skin before the peeks of your bra. Gojo licked his lips and moved forward, his hot breath fanning against your slick cunt.

"Whatever. We. Want."

#subby writes #jujutsu geto smut #jujutsu gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu geto #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader x geto #gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut

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thetriumphantpanda · 8 months

Text

Lost In Our Vices | Marcus Pike (Masterlist)

Series Summary | The rejection to have him as a PhD supervisor had stung, but not enough to put you off the idea altogether. Professor Pike was your academic hero and whether you could study under him or not, it didn't matter. Little were you to know that you would end up doing more than just studying under him in the end.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student!F Reader

Series Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship, academia and it's related bullshit (I'm still a lil bitter from my MA don't mind me), museum and art gallery visits, gratuitous descriptions of London because it is my city and I love it, conversations around cultural restitution, explicit smut including oral sex (f&m receiving), unprotected PiV, rough sex, dirty talk, soft Dom!Marcus, soft!Marcus, allusions to difficult familial relationships, consumption of food and alcohol, no use of y/n, check chapters for individual warnings.

Authors Note | Professor Pike will see you now.... this has rotted my brain for far too long and I'm so excited to share this all with you. Big shoutout to @hier--soir, her professor Joel is the reason this exists, we need more hot professors doing dubious shit and this is my contribution. Also thanks to @undercoverpena for listening to me scream about him. And finally thanks to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates

we were caught up and lost in all of our vices in your pose as the dust settled around us

Chapters

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

#Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #Marcus Pike smut #Marcus Pike #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike fanfic #Marcus Pike fic #Pedro pascal #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #the mentalist #the mentalist fic #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Marcus Pike fluff #Marcus Pike au #pedro characters #pedrostories

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wangxianficfinder · 5 months

Text

Fic Finder

~*~

1. Hey! I am looking for a fic that's about WWX and LWJ being happily married, happily adopting children, and I think JC wants to reconcile? The children all have "Si" as the first character of their name, because Lan Elders questioned them being LSZ's siblings? Or something? I think LSZ arranged the children to "suddenly" appear in front of his parents too and they are oblivious but JC finds out and is surprised how sly LSZ is? They have a house in the outskirts of Cloud Recesses I think. Thank you so much!

FOUND? ❤️ Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff)

~*~

2. turning to you for this person's hour of need

i swear ive read this fic before also but i cant remember,,,, theres more info in the comments as well about how it Might be librarian/(equally scholar) lwj & they might be post grad. also he might be quoting mary oliver (but they speculate it theyre mixing fics) @revellingfate

FOUND! Lans Never Kiss and Tell by FeelsForBreakfast (E, 30k, wangxian, Modern, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, LWJ FUCKS, wwx and lwj are both like ‘I could never be the one for him :(’, and all their friends are like ‘you freaks deserve each other’, Mutual Pining, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, modern diaspora au) they said they found it in the twitter thread 😊

~*~

3. hi! looking for a fic i read at some point that had a scene (i think towards the end?) where someone lets slip something about LSZ's identity in front of JC (maybe WWX is being affectionate? or Sizhui says something to him or LWJ?) and for a second they all freeze because what if JC hates him for having been born a Wen, but instead JC's reaction is something along the lines of "oh thank god it IS you" + checking that that's what they meant and he really *was* Wen Yuan bc JC had looked during and after the siege but couldn't find a trace of him and had hoped all these years that LWJ's mystery kid was secretly Wen Yuan but never dared ask in case he wasn't, and so finding out it really was him all along is a huge relief.

thank you!! @aroace-lukeskywalker

NOT FOUND! 江山如有待 | It Seems the Hills and Rivers Have Been Waiting by ScarlettStorm (E, 295k, OFC/JC, Slow Burn, Post-Canon, (mostly), Transfem Character, WQ Lives, Fighting as Flirting, Fighting as Foreplay, qs also lives, demisexual JC, sex disaster jc, Femdom, switch rights, Eventual Smut)

FOUND! Build Your Home (on a landslide) by John_lzhc (T, 55k, LSZ & WWX, JC & WWX, WangXian, LSZ & LJY, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Families of Choice, PTSD, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, best boy LSZ, Hopeful Ending, canon typical references to genocide, JC & WWX reconciliation, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Trans Male Character, Trans WWX, Alcohol, Implied/Referenced Alcohol, Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied Pregnancy, Implied Miscarrage, Happier Than It Sounds, WWX is the best teacher, WangXian forshadowed, Gratuitous use of the word "fuck", Found Family, Romance, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Anxiety, Dissociation, Mental Breakdown, Teaching, LWJ being horny on main, Menstruation, grief and mourning, Marriage Negotiations, moderate shenanigans, asexual LJY, LJY third generation gremlin, soft italicised 'oh' moment) There's an encounter like this with JC near the end of the 3rd part.

~*~

4. hello. i was trying to find this fic but now am unable to but it's modern au where wwx tells lwj that if they aren't married by 30, they will marey each other but just as they start hitting 30 wwx starts dating someone (i don't remember if it's mianmian or someone else).

FOUND? By 30 by x_los (T, wangxian, Modern, Accidental Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Mutual Pining, Fuck Trees)

~*~

5. Ugh I'm sorry but I have a really vague one >.< I remember that Wwx is staying with Lwj post (cql?) canon and they are kind of together but haven't slept together yet. It goes on for a while and one thing I remember is that when they do finally do it it's a hot night and a summer storm is happening. Thanks! @yilingweiclan

~*~

6. hii!! i need help finding this fic where wei ying finds or adopts (?) a bunny and then throughout the story he names the bunny/bunnies (?) pun names related to pop culture. it was a modern au and at this point of the story wangxian is already in a relationship(?)

thats all i remember from this fic. thank u in advance for ur hardwork <3

FOUND! Postcards from the Horizon by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 7k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, JC/WQ, WIP, Epilogues, yunmeng bros reconciliation, rabbit acquisition)

~*~

7. hello, pls i am rooting for this

Can anyone find a fic abt HuaLian being WWX parents, and it is Canon divergence? I feel like I ever read it, but in the same time i dont know 😭😭😭

FOUND? 🔒 a warm coal in the hearth of our hearts by eccentrick (T, 46k, XL & WWX, HC & WWX, SQX & WWX, hualian, Found Family, fluff with plot, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Disabled Character, Ableism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, slow burn found family, Gender Stuff brought to you by SQX, HuaLian Adopt WWX, Married HuaLian, Post-Canon TGCF, Kid Fic, TGCF Spoilers) I'm sure there are so many, but this is the one I thought of first. Wwx living on the streets and finding shelter in an abandoned temple. Will make you feel a lot of big feelings.

FOUND? Hua Xianle by Tiffany_Guinne (Not rated, 249k, hualian, wangxian, TGCF, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Madam Lan Lives, Not JFM & YZY Friendly, Bad Parent JFM, Bad Parent YZY, overprotective hualian as parents, WWX is good at feelings, WWX knows self preservation, and self love, WWX NHS and JZX are friends, Not JC Friendly, No Golden Core Transfer, Canon Divergence, Ghosts and Gods are wrapped around WWX's fingers, LWi is a Panicked Gay, WWX is kinda sickly, WWX is not named Wuxian, HuaLian Adopt WWX, WWX has selective mutism, PM is the uncle that teaches you how to flirt, Grandfather JW, MNQ is the grandmother then?, SQX is the aunt/uncle that spoils WWX, all of them spoils him actually, They have a competition on who will be the fave uncle or aunt, and this is a story about how A-Ying disses HC on a daily basis just to make fun of him, he loves his adie though, no HC is harmed in the creation of this story, i can't say the same for the Jiang though, Creepy JFM, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, HUA YING DOES NOT GET RAPED!, Can't say the same for some unwanted...people, Don't like, Don't read, This starts of mild and fluffy though, WIP)

FOUND? let this soul be your whisper by merthurlin (T, 28k, hualian, wangxian, post TGCF canon, post first siege of burial mounds, canonical character death, canon divergence, found family) has Xie Lian take in Wei Wuxian for three years before his 3rd ascension.'has Xie Lian take in Wei Wuxian for three years before his 3rd ascension.

FOUND? Narrative of Strength by erosophic (T, 67k, hualian, wangxian, WWX & XL, WWX & HC, FX & MQ & XL, JC & WWX, FengQing, Canon Divergence, HuaLian Adopt WWX, Found Family, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, XL takes WWX as a disciple, Protective XL, Protective HC, Adoption, Kidnapping, Attempted Kidnapping, QR being QR, Serious Injuries, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence)

If all else fails, searching the Hualian adopt wwx tag on ap3 might get you something

~*~

8. Hi! I am looking for a fic where everyone except Wei Ying is a shifter. However, during the attack on Lotus Pier, Wei Ying shifts into a Phoenix/Feng Huang, a clan that was destroyed years ago. He has powers to heal others and so Jiang Fengmian orders everyone in Lotus Pier to keep it a secret. He was also pregnant and gave birth to A-Yuan. Any leads will be much appreciated! Thank you in advance😊 @lilaccamellia

FOUND? Changes by Duochanfan (Not Rated, 80k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Drama, Mpreg, Shapeshifters AU, Sunshot Campaign, Baby LSZ, Angst with a Happy Ending, JGS is a warning unto himself, Past Miscarriage, Good YZY, injuries, Death of people, Not anyone we like)

~*~

9. For the next FF, I'm looking for 2 fics: (A) burial mounds arc, yiling Wei sect fic where they advertised cultivators could come perform the burial rites of their sects to lay to rest their dead from the resentful masses in the burial mounds. I think this made them a legit sect. (B) I'm not sure why but LWJ married WY, possibly to protect him? WY was severely injured by zidian and he was bedridden while LWJ was sent to the indoctrination. The one scene I recall is WY made a talisman that exploded a Wen attacker's head.

9A)

I've read 9A! Can't find it now, but perhaps additional info will help: there's a rouge cultivator hanging around the burial mounds, who turns out to be Madame Lan, and I think Lan Qiren recognizes her while on a visit to lay to rest Lan ghosts? Later he brings over LWJ and LXC for a reunion.

FOUND? Claiming Life from Death by MarbleGlove (E, 24k, WWX & WQ, wangxian, Golden Core cultivation and theory, Canon Divergence, the wen remnants survive, the burial mounds settlement survives, Pining WWX, Rumors, lying is forbidden but what is truth, Past Rape/Non-con, LQR is trying his best, Porn With Plot, Light Bondage, missing core reveal, YLLZ WWX)

9B)

FOUND! 🧡 To have and to hold by Moominmammashandbag (M, 78k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major character injury, CQL verse, Happy Ending) the head exploding is in ch 13

~*~

10. hellooo! i just opened my x app (twitter) and found a short art/comic story where child!wangji suddenly became a bunny and then found that he's at the back of the jingshi (there are other bunnies) then child!wuxian came and saw bunji. i think thats the part 1/5(?). when im about to read the thread, its all gone. im been scrolling thru my feed but i cant find it. can u guys help me find it? thank you so much in advance!

FOUND! twitter thread i think is this!

~*~

11. Hey,

Can you help me find a fic. I don't really remember much except that the yiling city (or burial mounds ) was like well- developed and a flourishing place. Hope you can find the fic @mayavsworld

FOUND? 💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27) Has a well developed community in the burial mounds?

~*~

12. Hi! Wishing the mods to have a wonderful day

I need help finding a fic, could you help pls?

It was a Wangxian one shot that took place in modern settings, specifically it was about wangxian having (adopting?) a baby during quarantine and not telling their family & friends until they are invited to a party/reunion and they just… bring the baby, surprise!

I WAS 90% sure it was called “Quarantine baby” but I can’t for the light of me find it. At this point I just want to know if it was deleted or I’m misremembering something. Anyway thanks for all your work! @neko-in-gotham

FOUND! What is on my kitchen table? by tigerlilly3224 (G, 3k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Modern, A/B/O, Family Fluff, Family Feels, Cute, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Alpha JC, Alpha LXC, Alpha NMJ, Alpha LQR, Post Mpreg, Pandemics, Family Bonding, Siblings JC & WWX, Protective LWJ, Parents WangXian, Soft WangXian, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, LJY Being LJY)

~*~

13. I've read this fanfic around 2021 and I forgot the title. I barely remember the details about it but I know it's good and I want to read it again, and it was an incomplete work way back so I'm wondering if it's completed already. It's about LWJ and WWX (participating?) in this kind of survival in the (purgatory?) and like they faced challenges under that and striving to survive until the very end to find their way out... really forgot the complete details but I swear it was good

NOT FOUND and from our own/live to ourselves by betweentheheavesofstorm (M, 105k, wangxian, Modern, Fantasy, Reality TV, Arctic Survival, Blood Magic, Blood and Gore, Getting Together, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Self-Harm, Bloodletting, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Animal Death, Hunting, Mild Sexual Content)

~*~

14. Hi, I hope all is well with you.

I'm looking for 2 fanfics.

A - is wangxian, where lwj convinces wwx to return with him to gusu and remove his resentful energy and in return he will give a piece of land near the Cloud Recesses to the Wen Remnantslive in. but what lwj doesn't know is that resentful energy is the only thing keeping wwx alive. when trying to remove it he almost kills wwx and if wen qin hadn't been there it was very likely that he would have really died. Upon accepting LWJ's proposal, WWX knew he was going to die and asked LWJ to be the one to remove the resentful energy. has a happy ending.

B - lwj is a courtesan in a brothel near the tombs and wwx goes there for lwj's music to calm the resentful energy within him. when lwj calms the energy wwx returns to seem human. it's a fic where the monsters from the tombs come out to fight the wens and wwx is the patriarch of these monsters from what I remember.

thanks. @lilianeheart

14A)

FOUND? decay by antebunny (G, 16k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, big sister WQ just wants her stupid little brother WWX to take care of himself, warnings for WWX's typical level of self-care, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, the fluffiest ending, Hurt/Comfort, Podfic Available)

14B)

FOUND? start by pulling him out of the fire by tidemakers (T, 15k, wangxian, Creatures & Monsters, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Mild Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Hurt WWX)

~*~

15. What I remember is toward the end of a time travel story after defeating wen ruohan, wei wuxian is confronted by mend yap who was sent back by accident. Thing was that wei wuxian wasn’t actually one of the people sent back he was just told about it and he has to sit and stall while meng yao tries to turn him against I think lan xichen. I think it ends up with wei wuxian getting injured and knocked out after meng yao is stopped (still in wrh’s throne room)

~*~

16. Hello There! Hope you are doing good!! I read this fic a long ago Idk where i found it. In which WWX unintentionally adopts a dog and as we know WWX and His naming skills. he accidently named the puppy "Hey". There was some scenes with JL too about how to train the dog. It was post canon I think. please help me find this fic. thank you!!! @vbhardwaj-reads

FOUND? Imprints by Lisa_Telramor (G, 47k, wangxian, accidental puppy adoption, Humor, Panic Attacks, phobia recovery, Post-Canon, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Poor Life Choices, because WWX has trouble putting his mental health first, Self-Acceptance, don't face your phobias the wei WWX does it, that would probably make the trauma worse, jumping through mental hoops to combat phobias, Developing Relationship, fluff with a side of anxiety lol, WWX adopts a puppy, Dogs)

~*~

17. Hello!

I am desperatly looking for a fic about Jiang Cheng and Nie Huisang. I literally cannot find it anywhere. It was post canon mostly, they were hooking up or sth and Huisang was dealing with resentful energy in his region and being chief cultivator. at some point Jiang Cheng broke it off, they only saw each other in passing on conferences and then huisang had qi deviation. wangxian was there trying to stop it but ultimately jiang cheng sort of brought him back. if you know this fanfic or anyone who i can ask i'll owe you my life @pandemonium39

~*~

18. Lost fic!! (Also tw for mention of SA)

It was a modern au, wei ying ran away as a teenager and lz bumps into him at a market, WY is with the wens and also has a close relationship with xue yang (they are kinda ex's) and then it turns out the JFM had attempted to assault WY as a teem and madame yu blamed WY, and JC and JYL and LZ are all in a group chat where they talk about WY and how much they miss him

FOUND? clean from the war (your heart fits like a key) by sysrae (E, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reunions, past xy/wwx, xy is fucked up but not evil, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, past wwx/jfm, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Abuse, Rape Recovery, transphobic violence, Victim Blaming, Past wei Wuxian/others, allusions to past self-harm)

~*~

19. Hiiiiiii!! I was looking for fic where I think Madam Yu kills Wei Ying and then Lan Wangji finds his soul? And I think somehow the Lan convinces Wei Ying to confess about what Madam Yu did to the Jiang siblings. And Wei Ying was sure that it won't go well but confessed anyway and Jiang Cheng didn't believe him. That's all I can remember.

And Thank you so much for all your work!! @yilinglaobunny

FOUND? I'd give anything to hear you say it one more time by Unicornelia96 (T, 54k, wangxian, Major Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, No Sunshot Campaign, Angst, Reincarnation, Character Death, Sad LWJ, LWJ Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, POV LWJ, POV Multiple, but mostly LWJ)

~*~

20. Hello! I wanted to ask about this one fic where I think the entire Lan clan traveled back in time or at least had an idea of future events and so, during the Cloud Recesses Arc, they were super kind to Wei Wuxian cause they knew that Lan Wangji was going to be marrying him at some point. Lan Wangji was horknee gripping all the way when Wei Ying and him sparred and Lan Qiren was exasperated while Jiang Cheng was confused throughout the whole ordeal.

FOUND? 🔒💖 Flawed and Free by Vrishchika (E, 18k, wangxian, major character death, time travel fix-it, dark gusu lan, dark LWJ, dark LXC, not JC friendly, temporary character death, angst, hurt/comfort, WIP)

FOUND? Cluster of Clouds by Nika_Raven_Celeste (T, 20k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, JC & WWX, time travel, post-canon lans time travel, cloud recesses study era, confused WWX, soft LQR, soft LWJ, not JC friendly, not YZY friendly, genius WWX, horny LWJ, oblivious WWX, WIP)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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kitten4sannie · 2 years

Text

𝐂𝐡. 𝟐: 𝐑 𝐔 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞?

ch 1

Ex Boyfriend! Wooyoung x Fem! Reader

Genre: gratuitous smut, angst

Summary: After having a pleasant night out with your friend, seeing Wooyoung's name pop up on your phone almost made you scream. You knew that even if you had ignored his call, he would just keep calling you back, so you gave in — just like every other time.

W.C: 6.5k (could be longer cuz I didn't check when I edited it lol)

Warnings: exes with benefits, switch! Wooyoung (yes you read that right 🥵), switch! reader, weed use, Wooyoung's still a dick, toxicity, lots of swearing, there are feelings involved (that's as descriptive as i'll get ;;), name calling, degradation, use of the word "baby", ownership kink, filthy dialogue, spit play, messy blowjob, deep throating, brief cum play, face riding, manhandling, rough/passionate (unprotected) sex, choking, multiple positions, kissing, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie

A/N: writing this one out just really hit different fsr and now i'm kinda sad that this is the...end?? maybe? who knows i might have some more ideas up my sleeve :] but i hope you all enjoy 🖤💔

p.s: take a tiny sip of water every time Wooyoung or y/n say “fuck/fucking” and you’ll be incredibly hydrated 💕

Fic Playlist

Masterlist

➽───────────────❥

"Byeee, get home safe!" you called out to your friend, watching as she opened her car door and craned her neck back to look at you, giving you a small smile and a peace sign. You repeated her actions, waiting for her to get into her car, before you followed suit.

Once you got situated inside your own car, you unlocked your phone to set up a queue of songs for your drive home, almost throwing it onto the dash when you saw Wooyoung's name pop up on your screen. "Awesome," you mumbled to yourself, bringing your thumb and index finger up to squeeze the bridge of your nose, sighing in dismay.

You saw there with your phone buzzing against your hand for a few seconds, ears zoning in on the sound of your heart racing inside your chest. "Fuck, okay." You leaned your head back against the headrest and reluctantly answered his call, snapping, "Let me guess. You want me to come over, right?" And you're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"

"Mm, you're already wound up all nice and tight for me, huh?" your ex returned in a low voice, unable to see the way you were gripping your thigh with your free hand. "I like that."

You let out an ‘augh’ sound, as if you were disgusted, making an attempt to bring him down a peg or two. “Of course you would. Your life must be really sad if you get turned on just by the thought of arguing with me.”

"Yours must be even worse since you're always willing to become an obedient little cumdump for me," he replied swiftly, chuckling when he didn't get a response, except for a small gasp on your end. "I'll see you soon, y/n."

Hearing Wooyoung simply hang up the call after what he had said should've made you mad, but it almost had the exact opposite effect on you — once again proving that the both of you were one and the same. Quietly ignoring the butterflies that were trying to escape your stomach, you pressed on a random song in your playlist and put your car in reverse, not even noticing when your lips curled into a small smile.

* * *

"Sup." You waved at Wooyoung from the doorway, kicking off your shoes and setting your bag down, then joining him on the couch.

"Hey," Wooyoung mumbled, not noticing how delayed his response was. "Took you long enough." He already looked high as hell, with red and glossy eyes, along with his voice coming out like he had just taken a tablespoon of sand.

"Uh-huh." Getting comfortable, you brought your foot underneath your opposite leg and leaned back into the cushion, smoothing out your skirt a bit and leisurely fixing the length of one of your kneesocks.

Wooyoung's gaze slowly traveled up and down your body, causing his Adam's apple to bob inside his throat. He unconsciously grabbed at the crotch of his joggers, his tongue just barely poking out of his mouth to swipe over his bottom lip. "Wow, you actually got dressed up this time. You look...good."

Despite being used to Wooyoung's 'compliments', his words still sought to get under your skin. However, you swallowed your annoyance down, for now, as you were far more interested in the way your ex was blatantly eye-fucking you. "Well, yeah, I had plans before this, but that's not even the point. You usually call me late at night, so do you really expect me to come over with a full face of makeup and a whole coordinated outfit, or what?"

While you had been talking, Wooyoung made the best use of his time, bringing his bong up to his lips and lighting it, idly glancing down at your thighs. He sucked inward for a while, then pulled the mouthpiece out, still inhaling, all while internally pondering how he should answer you. Once the vapor drifted out of his mouth, he shook his head, replying, "Nah, just like...put on some mascara or something."

You took the bong from him when he passed it to you, silently taking a hit and mulling over his words, unable to keep yourself from smirking once you had exhaled. "Why? So you can watch it run down my face when you're fucking my brains out?"

When you had motioned for him to take the bong back, his slender fingers settled on yours for a moment, not making an attempt to pull away. "Ideally, yeah," he nodded lazily, his brown eyes lingering on your glossy lips. "I want to cum all over that slutty face of yours, too...and make you all messy."

Feeling your body respond to what Wooyoung had done and said, you leaned closer to him, your shoulders touching. "You never get tired of doing that, do you?" you asked, setting the bong down on the floor, so that you could rest your hand on Wooyoung's thigh, your fingertips just barely reaching the inseam of his pants.

Chuckling softly, Wooyoung shook his head, casually grabbing your hand and moving it farther up his leg, until he went stiff upon hearing his phone vibrating against the armrest of the couch. He immediately reached for it and pressed on one of the multiple text notifications he had received. “Hold up.”

You looked down at his phone, your once inquisitive expression melting into one that could only be described as pure disgust. “Are you actually serious right now?” you scoffed in disbelief, watching as Wooyoung scrolled through some highly explicit nudes that some rando had sent to him.

“What? Don’t act like you’re not fucking around with other people. Jesus, y/n, get off your high horse.”

“High horse? Really? It’s not even about that! You just–…ugh…never mind.” You shook your head slightly, not having the energy to get into it with Wooyoung for the thousandth time.

Wooyoung let out an exasperated sigh, typing something back to the stranger and repositioning himself on the couch. “Give me a minute, okay? Just fill up another bowl and I’ll be done before you know it.”

“Fine, whatever,” you huffed, grabbing the grinder that was sitting on the cluttered coffee table and opening it, grumbling something rude under your breath.

“What was that?” Wooyoung eyed you through his peripheral, one of his eyebrows raising slightly.

You carefully filled up the glass mouthpiece, shaking your head a bit. “Nothing, just hurry up.”

“Uh-huh.”

You initially thought you had gotten over the way Wooyoung was still just sitting there in silence and ignoring your presence so that he could sext someone — since you were occupied with the abundant offering of weed he provided you. However, when you had reached a comfortable high, you finally began to feel pissed.

“Why did you even fucking call me over here, if you’re just going to do that, huh?” you questioned bitterly, just in time for you to witness your ex shamelessly pulling his dick out and wrapping his fingers around it, while using the other hand to hold his phone up. “Woo, are you s–”

“Shut the fuck up.” Wooyoung glanced in your direction, giving you a dirty look, before he began to stroke himself, exhaling when he started to get hard, pressing the record button.

Growling out of frustration, you moved toward Wooyoung, reaching your hand out. “Give me that shit,” you remarked, snatching his phone out of his hand and tossing it onto the carpet. Before he had a chance to retaliate, you dropped down to your knees in front of him, pushing his thighs apart from one another so that you could fit in between them.

“What are you…aaaah-oh, god…” he reacted, gripping his upper thigh when he felt your soft lips and tongue encase the tip of his cock, watching as you slid them down along his length and back up a few times, letting out a small noise of approval when you did it agonizingly slow the last time around.

You swirled your tongue around the tip languidly, prior to flicking it across the small slit, earning a groan from Wooyoung. “That’s what I fucking thought,” you taunted, using your thumb to rub against his frenulum in small, gentle circles, knowing that it was sensitive.

“Oh, shit…that feels good…” he exhaled, ignoring your attempt at slighting him, too caught up with the lust that was flooding his senses. “Spit on it, baby.”

You froze for a second when you heard what he had called you, which was unusual, since you had been used to him calling you that, but suddenly it seemed to yank at your heartstrings. Ignoring this revelation, you eventually obliged his request, drawing saliva into your mouth and letting it drip down onto his cock, one long string at a time, all while your dilated eyes gazed up into Wooyoung’s glazed-over ones. “Like that, Woo?”

“Uh-huh. Now, get to work,” he smirked, his cock growing harder inside your hand.

“Sounds good~” you purred, almost forgetting that you were supposed to hate him, your fingers tightening around his length and pumping it quickly, your lips attaching to his cockhead.

He drank in the sight of you, incredibly pleased with the way you were looking at him, his fingers slipping into your hair. “Messier, baby.”

You slurped on his twitching tip, bringing some of your spit into your mouth, then spitting it back out, moaning softly when it dripped down the sides of his cock. You moved your saliva around with your tongue, making sure to run it across his slit a few times, teasing him once again.

“That’s it…” Wooyoung slid down against the couch slightly, spreading his legs open a bit more, only snapping out of his hazy state when he heard his phone buzzing on the carpet, most likely receiving a FaceTime call from the ignored individual. “Hey, can you grab my phone and hand it to me?”

As your brows drew close and your nose scrunched up in anger, you tightened your grip around Wooyoung’s member, resisting the urge to squeeze it until you heard a disconcerting sound. “You gotta be fucking kidding me!”

Wooyoung let out an abrupt chuckle, not meaning what he said in the slightest, but just simply saying it for your reaction. “Mmm, you must really want to suck my cock, if you’re getting this upset over some nudes.” Without any warning, he grabbed your chin and tilted it upwards, forcing you to look at him. “You’re jealous, huh? Answer me, slut.”

“Yeah, and what about it?” you retorted, glaring daggers up at Wooyoung, your lips forming a small scowl. “I took time out of my night to see you, so I expect to have your full attention and not have to compete with some stupid cunt I don’t even know!”

Another pleased laugh escaped from Wooyoung’s throat, a rare grin gracing his irritatingly handsome features. “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get this jealous. I’m kind of shocked, actually.” He leaned in and pulled your face closer in his direction as well, so that he could clearly see your next reaction. “Did you fall in love with me again, y/n? I wouldn’t blame you. I know you can’t help it.”

For a second there, the fear on your face was visible, but was quickly replaced with your usual display of annoyance. “Just shut up and let me suck your dick, before it goes all limp on me!” you protested, wrapping your fingers loosely around the base of his cock and pumping it again, encouraging Wooyoung to release his grip on you and allow you to go back to what you were doing earlier, but with more enthusiasm.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby…” Wooyoung’s long fingers remained entangled in your locks, but he didn’t pull at it, instead stroking it in an oddly affectionate manner. “Are you gonna deep-throat my cock? Huh? Are you gonna show me how much a slut like you loves sucking dick?”

Wooyoung’s baiting words only served to fuel your desire to see him cum for you. You didn’t even let yourself tease him anymore, and instead, allowed him into your throat, relieved that your gag-reflex wasn’t as active this time around. “Mmmmfff…” was all you could manage to get out, wanting to look up at Wooyoung, but unable to do so, with the way your irises were disappearing behind your shutting eyelids.

“Jesus Christ, I wish you could see the face you’re making…” he exhaled, somewhat shakily, gathering up your hair and holding it so none of it could hide his view of your face. “You’re such a fucking whore for me. I bet that cunt of yours is dripping already, just from having my cock down your throat.”

Feeling your pussy clench around nothing but air, you bobbed your head diligently, shoving most of his length down your throat in a way that drove him absolutely crazy — unable to hold yourself back. The thickening drool that consistently pooled inside your mouth slowly dripped down your chin and chest in abundance, letting you hear Wooyoung groan in approval.

“F-ffffuuuck, I…Oh, god…I think I’m…” his voice trailed off, unable to finish his sentence, knowing he was about to cum at any given second.

“Mm-hmm? Mm-hmm?” you moaned onto him, giving it your all, as if your rent was due tomorrow. You gripped his lower thighs, reluctantly pulling yourself off of him when you heard him mutter the word ‘open’, wanting to giggle after he could barely form the two syllables.

Cum shot out of Wooyoung’s cock, mostly landing near your mouth and on your chest, causing a small gasp to leave your lips. “Mm…” As if he was waiting for this exact moment, his fingertips were already rubbing the warm, sticky liquid all over your lips and chin, making sure to smear some across your cheek, appreciating how it began to mess up your makeup. “Look at you…You’re my messy little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you answered softly, your jaw going lax, unable to hide how insanely turned on you were. Wooyoung took advantage of this and pushed his coated fingers onto your tongue, prompting you to close your mouth and suck on them, until they were clean.

“Good girl.”

You and Wooyoung sat there for a while, just looking into each other’s lustful eyes, neither of you knowing what to make of the unspoken jumble of emotions you both continuously decided to shove away.

Squeezing one of Wooyoung’s thighs, you smirked a bit, inquiring in a smug tone, “That must’ve felt really good, huh?”

“You were able to make me cum pretty fast this time, I’ll give you that. Though, my friend is still able to suck dick better than you, unfortunately…but, you know, practice makes perfect.” Wooyoung shrugged his shoulders, giving into his usual toxic routine and trying to bring you down, all the while his cheeks and ears were still flushed beyond measure.

“Oh my god, will you shut up already?” you rasped, as you shot up from the floor, angrily pulling your top up and over your head, then sliding yourself out of your skirt, revealing you had nothing on underneath — much to your ex’s delight. “I’m sick and tired of hearing the stupid shit you say! So fucking tired of it…”

“Oh, yeah?” he gauged, his voice almost coming out like a moan, clearly getting off on how much he was upsetting you.

“Yeah!” You suddenly grabbed Wooyoung by the shoulders and yanked him down onto the couch cushion below, instantly straddling him, so that you were positioned directly over his face.

Surprised by your sudden actions, Wooyoung simply stayed put, his eyes trailing from the band of your knee socks up to your dripping cunt.

You let out a huff, using two fingers to spread your pussy for him so that he could get a good look at it. “Why don’t you put that big fucking mouth of yours to good use? Hm? Does that sound like a good idea?”

“Excuse me? You think I’m just going to do what you say?” he scoffed, using one hand to smack your ass, grabbing it roughly afterwards, eliciting a gasp from you. “I’ll eat your slutty little cunt if I feel like it — not when you tell me to. Now, get off of me, before I kick your ass!”

He was about to continue his tirade when you gripped the sides of his head and pressed yourself onto his mouth, rubbing your wet folds on his plush lips. “Shut the fuck up and stick your tongue out.”

Pleasantly surprised by your aggressiveness, Wooyoung hesitated, but eventually obeyed, holding his tongue out, so that you could rub yourself on it, causing him to let out a small whimper, not able to hold it in.

“Mm, that’s it,” you mumbled to yourself, moving your hips at an increasingly desperate pace, wanting to cum as soon as possible. “Look at you. Just a second ago, you were so tough and scary, Woo. What happened?”

Wooyoung groaned out against you, using his tongue to lap at your slit whenever he could, your wetness leaking out into his mouth, causing his eyes to roll back into his skull. Of course, he loved having control over you, but he couldn’t ignore how painfully hard he was, so he decided to just go with the flow.

“Mmmm, that’s a good boy. You want to fuck me with your tongue next?” you questioned, in between pants, running your fingers through his hair, before gripping it roughly, earning an uncharacteristically whiny moan from him. “Answer me, you whore!”

He opened his eyes and looked up at you, his eyebrows knitting together in an upward motion, the tip of his cock now dripping pre-cum, as he emitted a muffled “Mm-hmmm!”

Normally, he would’ve gone ballistic from hearing you talk to him like that, but he was so turned on, he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. In fact, he desperately hoped you kept going.

“Good…” you exhaled, letting go of his head for a second to rake your fingers through your somewhat-tangled hair, moving it out of your line of vision and behind your ear. “You better make me cum.”

Wooyoung slid his hands past your ass and up near your hips, then angled himself so that he could push his tongue inside your pulsing hole. He dug his fingers into your skin, shoving his tongue in and out of you as deep as he possibly could.

You breathed heavily, fucking yourself on his tongue as well, feeling like you were already going to cum, not only from the pleasure, but from the shift in power. “You always…act so big and bad…but you really…you really just want to get treated-nnngh-like a little fuck toy, don’t you?“

Wooyoung whined against you, almost pleading with his glossy, watery eyes, giving you the answer you wanted when he moaned, “Uh-huhhhh…”

“You’re so pathetic,” you mused arrogantly, giving Wooyoung a satisfied smile, flashing your canines at him. You had sort of expected to see anger boil up to the surface of your ex’s features, but you were instead met with a face that only could be described as pure bliss. “Now, suck on my clit.”

Wooyoung obeyed, pulling his arousal-coated tongue out of your pulsing hole and wrapping his plush lips around your clit, sucking on it with varying levels of intensity, knowing exactly how to drive you to your breaking point.

“God, that’s…Oh, shit…” you reacted shakily, your vision starting to blur around the edges, unintentionally bucking your hips up. “I’m so close…Just a little…more…”

With his arms locking around you so that you couldn’t escape, Wooyoung alternated between licking and sucking, groaning when you squeezed your thighs around his head.

“Fuck…!” you cried out, squirting so incredibly hard that you faded out of existence for longer than you had anticipated.

Wooyoung panted softly against your pussy, quietly slurping up your essence, in between shallow breaths, a deep blush imprinted on his cheeks. His eyes were closed and his mind was clouded over, as he came down from his own high, despite not even being physically stimulated.

Once you came to, you let out a satisfied sigh, climbing off of Wooyoung and standing up, in order to reach out your limbs and stretch them. “Ahh, who knew you could be so tolerable? You gotta be a whiny little sub for me more often.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, trying to wipe your cum off of his face, but unable to do anything about the arousal that had already wet his hair.

“Damn, relax.”

Feeling something on your lower back, you swiped at it and looked down at your hand, unable to hide your amusement when you saw the milky white substance dripping through your fingers. “Holy shit, did you cum just from that?” you blurted out, looking up and pointing at Wooyoung’s cum-covered abdomen. “Oh my god, you did!”

Wooyoung gritted his teeth tightly, unable to handle the amount of humiliation that washed over him, suddenly pissed that you were treating him like he normally treated you.

You were practically tingling from the newfound power you had felt, almost ready to cast aside your role as an obedient sub. Almost. “I guess you really like when I’m in control, huh? Should I use a strap on you n-”

Before you could finish, Wooyoung had already grabbed you by your upper arm and forced you face-down onto the couch cushion where he had just been laying, allowing you to feel the body heat that still remained there.

Pulling his t-shirt off with his free hand and tossing it to the ground, Wooyoung lowered himself to your ear, stating, “Don’t forget your place, y/n. I may have let you get away with that, but you’re still my little toy at the end of the day. You belong to me, don’t you?”

Biting your bottom lip, you wondered if you should give your ex the satisfaction of answering his question truthfully, afraid that it would cause his ego to double in size. “Just because you-”

“Don’t you, y/n? Isn’t that why you always let me treat you like this?” he interrupted in a low voice, positioning himself at your entrance, with his hand pressed onto the back of your head, pushing it into the couch.

“Mm-hmm…” you mumbled out, internally berating yourself for being so incredibly weak when it came to Wooyoung.

“Say it, y/n.”

Feeling the head of his dick just barely pushing inside your cunt and stretching you out, you began to nod your head against the palm of his hand, knowing there was no point in arguing with him. “I…I belong to you…”

Without giving you any sort of warning, Wooyoung grunted, plunging his cock into you, bottoming out in less than a second. “That’s fucking right.” Your obedience gave Wooyoung the incentive to destroy you, pushing him to begin slamming himself in and out of you, knowing he wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

A few mindless obscenities fell from your lips, as you felt your body completely relax into the cushion, taking Wooyoung’s rough treatment without any complaints.

Wooyoung took incredible delight in the way you always seemed to submit to him, letting out a few airy chuckles, his hips snapping into yours unapologetically. “That’s my…good girl…”

Unable to emit anything competent, you simply moaned and groaned periodically, your voice slowly rising in pitch and volume, your fingers digging into the edge of the couch, after hearing his puzzling choice of words.

He pounded into you relentlessly, making you cum somewhere along the way, but not stopping, until he felt the tight spring inside him threaten to uncoil. “Oh, shit…Get ready, baby…”

You felt your eyes becoming watery, actively refusing to confront yourself and face the fact that you were clearly upset over hearing Wooyoung routinely call you baby throughout the night. Of course, it turned you on immensely, but it hurt you more. “Just cum already, please…”

Wooyoung suddenly flipped you over, and shoved himself back inside you, leaning down so that he could drink in your expression, just as his cum started to pour into you.

“A-hhhh….”

“Can you feel it, y/n? All of my cum inside you? You love it, don’t you? Say you fucking love it!” he exclaimed, unable to keep his desperation hidden within his harsh tone.

You nodded weakly, gazing up at him, your thighs trembling against his. “I love it, Woo…”

Letting out a groan, he wrapped his fingers around your neck and slowly squeezed it in the right places, so that you felt like you were floating, the tips of your fingers tingling. “Say it again.”

“I…love…it…” you replied breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper, unable to stop a tear from falling down your cheek, which dragged a black streak of mascara down with it. You let out a small whine when Wooyoung leaned down towards you, so close that you could feel his lips moving near your jaw, his fingers releasing your neck.

“I know you do, baby…I know…” Wooyoung murmured softly against your skin, pumping his cum into your pulsing hole, only stopping when he thought he had sufficiently fucked it into you. “You look so pretty like this…” He pressed a thumb onto your cheek and wiped a bit of the mascara away, giving you a gentle smile, which only set off more alarm bells inside your clouded brain.

You couldn’t even think at this point, let alone make sense of the odd switch in character your ex had been displaying throughout the night. All you could do was lay there and try to catch your breath, your body warm and tingly, Wooyoung’s cum sliding out of you and down onto the cushion.

“Woo…I- um…” you started, without giving it much thought, only to close your mouth when he wrapped his arms around your waist, locking you in place.

“I'm not done with you.” Without even giving you a chance to react, he sat back against the couch, simultaneously lifting you up and down onto his lap, shoving his already-hard cock back inside your cunt, proceeding to buck his hips up into yours.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, gripping the top of the couch for stability, feeling a pleasant shiver go up your spine when Wooyoung slipped his fingers into the sides of your knee-socks and tugged on them a bit as he thrusted into you.

“Fuck, baby…How are you still so tight? Even after I just got done wrecking you?” Wooyoung studied your surprised face, just as he leaned into your body and sucked one of your tits into his mouth. “Hmm?” he mumbled on your chest, using the flat of his tongue to lap at your nipple.

You shook your head slightly, emitting a sharp gasp, not really knowing how to respond from being too caught up in the moment, as well as being focused on what you wanted from him. “Bite it, Woo…please…”

One corner of Wooyoung’s lips lifted up, as he rolled your nipple around between his teeth, before biting down on it with enough pressure to satisfy your needs, earning a delighted moan from you.

“Now, spit on it…”

Wooyoung pulled back ever so slightly, with his lips pursed, spitting on your breast and turning his head, so that he could spit on the other one. “Mm…Like that, y/n?” He used his thumb to rub his saliva around, making your skin glossy.

“Yeah, just like that…” Without realizing, you started to grind your own hips down into his, just as desperately as he was trying to shove himself up into you.

“I thought so…” he murmured, pushing your tits together in order to drag his tongue back and forth between them, groaning all the while.

“Babyyyy…” you let slip out, bringing him to let go of your breasts so that he could caress your cheek with his warm fingers, neither of you breaking eye contact for what seemed like an eternity. “It feels so fucking good…”

“Yeah?” Seeing you nod right away, Wooyoung leaned his forehead against yours, his lips just barely brushing over your parted ones. “Are you going to cum on my cock again for me, y/n? Huh? Are you going to squirt all over it?”

“Uh-huhhh…”

“Then fucking do it.”

You cried out in ecstasy, careening over the edge from the way he was acting with you, whimpering when Wooyoung’s hands returned to your waist and squeezed it so tightly that you thought he might leave handprints on your skin. “Oh, god, I’m cumming…!” you whined shakily, tossing your head back and closing your eyes.

“Uh-uh.” When he saw that your head was leaning back, he gripped the back of it and forced you to continue looking at him, slowing his movements down, so that he could fuck you in a more calculated, almost passionate way. “Hey, look at me. I want you to cum again, okay? And, this time, you’re not going to look away.”

Instead of resisting Wooyoung’s hold on you, you found yourself wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your sweat-covered body against his, your lower-halves working in tandem with one another to reach your highs. “As long as you promise to fill me up,” you invited sweetly, your heart pounding inside your rib cage.

“Don’t I always? Now, come here.” Wooyoung gave you another oddly charming smile, one of his hands moving up to your jaw and coaxing it open, so that he could bring you into an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue slipping inside and moving against yours.

“Mmm…!” you reacted, your eyes still open, due to being genuinely surprised that Wooyoung kissed you. You couldn’t even remember the last time he did; it was probably somewhere around your third or fourth breakup.

Wooyoung opened his eyes slightly, studying your wide ones, his tongue lapping lazily at your own, some of his spit already dripping down his chin.

Too caught up in the heat of the moment, your eyelids fluttered shut and your hands instinctively slid up the back of his neck, your fingers slipping into his damp hair. Your heads periodically tilted in opposite directions, so that you could both engage in a sloppy, fervent kiss.

Feeling your pussy tighten significantly around his throbbing length, Wooyoung reluctantly broke the kiss, using his free hand to gather up some of your combined saliva that was dripping in abundance from your mouths and rubbing it all over your lips, then pushing his fingers onto your tongue, groaning when your mouth closed around them. “Fuuuuck, look at you…You don’t act like this for anyone else, do you? It’s all for me, isn't it, baby?” he asked, burning the image of your fucked-out expression into his memory.

“Mm-hmm…”

“Thought so.” Wooyoung grabbed your chin with his glistening fingers and mumbled, “I can feel how tight your cunt is around me, so go ahead and cum. Come on, make a mess on my dick, baby.”

You kept your glossy eyes locked on his, almost screaming when your warm wetness squirted forcefully out of you and all over his cock for the third time.

“Gooood girl…Now, let me fill you up, baby. Just how you like…” Wooyoung groaned deeply, his hands returning to your hips and cementing you in place, as his seed spilled deep inside your spasming cunt, a string of obscenities falling from his lips.

“Oh my god…” You dug your nails into Wooyoung’s skin, your thighs shaking uncontrollably, almost unable to handle how good it felt to be filled up to the brim with your ex’s load.

Once Wooyoung could breathe properly, he struggled to find the right words, not able to explain how he felt. “Oh, god…that was…”

As your body relaxed completely against Wooyoung’s, you kept your arms wrapped around him, suddenly not wanting to let go, but not really thinking about it, since your brain was still buzzing from the overload of endorphins. “I know…I know what you mean…” you replied cryptically, nuzzling his neck a bit.

Wooyoung didn’t say anything else for a while, simply running his hand up and down your lower back, his fingers ghosting along the indent of your spine. He closed his eyes, feeling his head almost spin, due to the influx of conflicting ideas that had infiltrated his mind.

You were in a similar place, the truth of reality hitting you like a ton of bricks, forcing you to pull yourself away from him, wanting to get away from the distressing headspace you were falling into as soon as humanly possible.

When Wooyoung felt your warmth leave him, as you got up from the couch, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, holding it rather tight. “Don’t go. Just stay here with me tonight,” he announced, not even thinking before he said it.

Suddenly made uncomfortable by the way he was squeezing your wrist, you forcefully yanked your arm away from him. Wincing, you rubbed your sensitive skin, making up a viable excuse, “No, I need to get home. I have work tomorrow. Why are you being like this?”

Wooyoung tsked and sat up, quickly snaking his arms around you and bringing your body against his, so that you were awkwardly pinned to both him and the lower half of the couch. He rested the side of his head on your upper abdomen for a moment, then pulled away to look up at your shocked face, giving you a straight answer, “Cuz I want you to stay. I don’t give a fuck if you have work. You’re going to stay put.”

You wriggled around in his grasp, shaking your head and complaining, “Oh my god, you’re being so fucking weird. Just get off of me!” When he didn’t let go of you, you pushed on his face, causing him to grunt, but still hold on, eventually letting go when you shoved his shoulders instead.

The force of your push caused him to slam into the back cushion and slump down against it, prompting him to just stay there instead of getting up. He remained silent, giving you an expression that you couldn’t read.

“Jesus,” you remarked, hastily picking up your discarded clothes from the ground, while trying to disregard the unresolved feelings that had been eating away at you since you had stepped into his apartment. “You better not do that again, or else I’m not coming around anymore.” You glanced up from the floor to give him a dirty look, wanting him to know that you were being completely serious.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his damp brown hair, actively ignoring the sharp twinge of pain inside his chest. “Whatever. You know you can’t live without this dick.” He snapped his fingers at you when you wouldn’t give him the response that he wanted, desperately trying to get your attention when you started to put your clothes on, ignoring him. “Hello? Are you fucking deaf?”

You remained tight-lipped, zipping up your skirt and adjusting it, eventually letting out a small sigh. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if you had it in you to continue this relationship with Wooyoung. At first, it was a good way for you to release all the negative emotions you had usually shoved deep down and locked away, but now…now it was just leaving an incredibly bitter taste in your mouth.

Wooyoung grimaced, clearing his throat and asking in an irritable tone, “Why are you just staring at me like that? You know it’s the truth. You can’t live without me, y/n. If you could, you would’ve blocked me after the first time we broke up.”

Ignoring his words, you walked over to the door and grabbed your bag, letting it dangle near the ground, instead of putting it on your shoulder, your distant gaze lowering until your vision grew blurry from the threat of incoming tears. “You know…now that I think about it, we should really stop doing this, Woo. It’s not good for us.”

He suddenly jolted up, his fingers gripping at the edge of the cushion below him, unable to hide the panic forming on his face. “Wh-what are you talking about? Jeez, I…I must’ve fucked you so hard, your brain stopped functioning,” he responded, letting out a nervous chuckle.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, appearing like you were in a significant amount of pain. You should’ve done this a long time ago, but there was always a small part of you that wanted to hold on, hoping that somehow all of your problems would magically disappear and you could go back to how everything was before. However, deep down inside, you knew that it was never tangible — even from the start. The two of you were just flawed, broken people who could never seem to build each other up, instead opting to tear down one another again and again. And it had finally gotten to be too exhausting for you.

Wooyoung felt like he was going to start hyperventilating when you looked up at him with a blank face, initially unable to see the tears fall from how fast you were wiping them away. “y/n…?” he called out shakily, dread forming within him, making him feel like he had a ten ton weight sitting inside the pit of his stomach.

With teary eyes and trembling lips, you opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out at first, causing you to clear your dry throat. You closed your fists tightly for a moment, before they slowly relaxed against the sides of your thighs. “Woo…it’s over. I just…can’t do this anymore.”

Before you realized what was happening, Wooyoung was already clinging onto you, tears dripping down his own cheeks and shaky, abrupt breaths being forced out of his throat, showing a side of himself that you had only witnessed once years ago. “D-don’t be fucking stupid!” he choked out, his fingers gripping the back of your sweater so firmly, you thought that he might rip the thin material. “You’re not leaving me!”

Your eyebrows lowered and pulled together, your lips still quivering, as you wondered internally why he had to make this so incredibly hard for you. It was difficult enough already; you didn’t want to let go of him, but you knew you had to for the sake of your sanity, as well as his. “Woo…please…We can’t do this anymore. We’re destroying each other. Can’t you see that...?” you murmured in a fragile voice, making a weak attempt to pull away from him, blinking away a few tears in the process.

Wooyoung shook his head violently, dropping his weight down on you and burying his face into your chest, his fingers clawing into your back desperately, shouting, “I don’t care!” He let out a few small whimpers, wiping his tears away by using the front of your sweater. “I’ll happily drown with you, y/n…” He pulled back slightly and looked up at you with empty eyes, an incredibly pained smile on his flushed face.

“No! That’s exactly what I’m talking about, you idiot! That’s so fucking toxic!” you protested, unable to keep your voice from cracking, while actively doing your best to stand steadily and peel Wooyoung off of you. “Get. Off!” You let out a sudden yell of frustration when you couldn’t get away from him, not knowing what to do at this point. “Please…”

Wooyoung tightened his grip around your body, until you could feel significant pain in your ribs, leaving you almost lightheaded. “No!” he shouted, with every ounce of his being, threatening to damage his vocal cords.

Feeling completely and utterly drained, both mentally and physically, you slowly slumped down onto the carpet, giving up and allowing your bawling ex to curl up around you like a frightened child.

Wooyoung had lost all control of his emotions, too traumatized by the thought of you leaving him to hold back in any sort of capacity. “Fuck…you…You’re staying…right here…!” he gasped out, in between sobs, his voice airy and weak. “You’re never…leaving me!” He lightly hit his closed fist against your back, stopping when he simply wanted to hold onto you again. “Never…ever…!”

You closed your tired eyes, leaning your head into the crook of Wooyoung’s neck and resting it there. “Okay.” Caving in, you gently stroked his hair and placed your other hand on his lower back, giving it light pats.

Wooyoung stiffened up for a second, still gasping for air, unable to quell his crying-induced hiccups. “You…mean…that?”

“Yeah…I mean it.” You relaxed into his body, holding him so close that you could feel his heart pounding against your chest. You nuzzled your cheek into his warm skin, noticing how he would jolt periodically from drawing in quick, fragile breaths. “I’m right here, okay? Now, just breathe…and relax…”

He followed your advice, concentrating on his erratic breathing, until he eventually calmed down, his rapid heart rate slowly returning to a normal one. “y/n…” he mumbled, gingerly moving up near your face and gazing at you for a second, before pressing his cold lips onto yours.

You didn’t resist him, not even noticing when your fingers automatically interlocked with his, until you felt him squeezing your hand. Once you shared a few gentle, heartfelt kisses, you pulled back slightly, looking into his sad blood-shot eyes. “Where do we go from here?” you asked, your voice barely coming out.

Wooyoung leaned his forehead against yours, his hand gripping yours so tightly, he threatened to cut off the circulation. “I…I don’t know, exactly…” he answered truthfully, letting out a pained sigh, his eyes still focused solely on your watery ones. “But I do know that I want you by my side.”

After listening to his words, you leaned back into Wooyoung, the tension in your body subsiding. “Okay…I’ll stay with you, Woo. I won’t leave...until you want me to.”

Letting go of your hand, he opted to wrap himself around you once again, resting the side of his face on your shoulder, his breath hitting your skin. Closing his eyes and feeling some sort of peace, Wooyoung smiled to himself. “Don’t be stupid, y/n. That’s never going to happen.”

➽───────────────❥

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#ateez #ateez smut #wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x y/n #kpop smut

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lyceana · 3 months

Text

I felt true, visceral fear today after I returned from work and discovered that my Huion monitor tablet wouldn't connect to my laptop. I knew that bitch was all powered up and screaming but blue-balling me with only pitch-black darkness.

I shut off and restarted my laptop 5 fucking times, rammed the usb cables in and out of my laptop's usb ports, in and out... I never thought that an expensive device - wasted for just watching funny cat videos and enabling me to draw the shapely but scaly butt of Voldemort - could be violated. Learned a life lesson here: any hole can be stuffed, you just need some imagination y'all.

Fuck tentacles, ugly men & weird-ass creatures with gigantic horse dicks - give me sub laptops/pcs getting dominated by their puny usb cable daddies!

I digress. So, I turned on my 2nd laptop which is on life-support - it never asked to be an accessory to producing hardcore incest material between Tom and his hot daddy Riddle sr, btw. But, like come on! What's better than one hot, mentally maladjusted Tom Riddle? Two of course! Think about the delicious angst, the hurt/comfort, the abandonment issues, the forbidden attraction, uugh...

Why are there so few tomcest (sr) fics? It's unfair, I'm fucking starving, eh. I mean, Riddle sr is the goddamn blueprint for gratuitously hot Voldemort! Where's pathetic, blushy, snot-nosed and puffy-eyed Tom Riddle sr??? The internet lied to me! I thought you only needed two hot dudes who didn't even have to meet each other to make sweet, sweet looove to each other... there's even incest and murder for extra seasoning!

I'm begging the ao3 wordsmith gods who kin Tom Riddle/Voldemort to open their hearts to Tomcest sr T_T) We all love pathetic men in tears and Voldemort would never allow himself to show such vulnerability but that's what we have his da for... Voldy could vicariously experience such a display of helplessness through Riddle sr! And tbh, I seriously need more beautiful works of art featuring my favourite basket case twink (dub-) non-con-ing his papa into some father/son bonding. I'm going cold turkey here!

I digress again. So, I plugged my Huion into my 2nd laptop and behold! That fucker finally connected and mirrored the laptop display, thank fucking god! Little shit was playing hard to get but it still lives! Whoop, whoop!

Thank Voldy's perky ass, I wasn't forced to make a human connection with an underpaid yet bored employee at the Huion support centre. I had that tablet for 4 years and we experienced the deepest depths of human depravity together - I cried bitter tears, cursed it for reflecting my shitty art skills - my inability to draw hot men bedtime wrestling. But, we also experienced joy together when I succeeded. That fucker made me feel like an art god when it reflected how I envisioned the smut to be. I'm not ready to end this toxic relationship, I thought I'd be.

I was all 'yeah, I'm sooo stage 4 already! I only need the Huion employee to gaslight me into buying their newest, shiny model to reach stage 5!' I'm 30, a grandma according to annoying (affectionate) internet youngsters. My body can't handle eating only instant ramen for 4 months anymore. My roaring 20s are a bygone era and for once I choose to practice some self-care, to love myself even!

For once, I was about to make an adult decision and... wait. To save up the money - to accept that I'll be a temporary full-time traditional wannabe weird-ass hentai artist with a shitty phone camera... but thank god I don't have to! My beloved tablet still works and I can be a part-time traditional but mainly digital wannabe weird-ass hentai artist with a shitty phone camera! Yeah, this is how my day went. Love y'all ~ mwaaah

Shameless self-promo plug but I think you should at least look at the smut scenes to see the appeal of tomcest (sr)~ I also need some validation for providing my tears as lube for their narcissistic coupling You can read Philautia here: AO3

#laptop dominated by usb cables #don't question it #where's my Korean drama about a digital artist who has a meltdown and has to contact customer service #rugged customer service employee gaslighting artist-chan into buying a new expensive pen tablet #experiencing a meltdown while trying to resuscitate my abusive huion kamvas pro 20 #don't worry~ we're still in a toxic relationship #don't think that huion will appreciate the unintended promo tho #too passionate about toxic but hot father & son bonding #digressing into an essay about why voldemort and his hot daddy should fuck #2k+ word essay about the 5 stages of grief: tomcest style

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zzoomacroom · 3 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Thank you so much for the ask! 💗💗💗

These are all Dreamling (plus some Hobstruction in one of them) and all explicit lol:

Rain Is Coming Down, but the Clouds Will Surely Pass (wip, multi-chapter, retired Dream, mpreg) - This is the one I'm proudest of so far. I've only written about 1/3 of it, but I think it's shaping up very nicely.

The Seeds Are Bursting, the Springs Are Seeping (one shot, fluff and smut, retired Dream) - This is a prequel to the one above. When I wrote it I didn't have any plans for a sequel, but it has since spiraled into a whole AU

Golden Hour (one shot, fluff and smut, retired Dream, mpreg) - Yet another one from the mpreg AU. Takes place a few months into "Rain Is Coming Down." It's just a couple thousand words of Dream and Hob being insufferably adorable and in love.

Here and Now and Always (fantasy AU, hobstruction, dreamling, King Dream, Knight Hob) - This one starts with Hob/Destruction, but ends with Dreamling. The plot didn't quite work out the way I had hoped (it was for a gift exchange, so I didn't have time to develop it as much as I wanted to), but I'm still pretty proud of the smut

Symphony (one shot, fantasy AU, smut, fem!Dream, trans!Hob) - From the same AU as "Here and Now and Always." Just gratuitous filth and genderfuckery

#asks #zoom writes #dreamling fanfic #nsft

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welcometololaland · 11 months

Text

20 Questions aka. Oversharing on the Internet version 92840938

Thanks for the tag @rmd-writes - how did you know i didn't feel like doing work?

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

excluding the ones i've flagged for deletion (when i get around to it) - 46.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

972,000 and i'm going to hit a million by the end of the year! i have one co-written collab so we can subtract about 30k (ish) from that total (but with ALTA i'll still make a milly woohoo).

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Red, White & Royal Blue, 911 Lone Star, Top Gun Maverick (occasionally)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

ah man this kills me because it excludes my most beloved fic (love game lol). in descending order:

Speak for Yourself (RWRB, my very first fic for that fandom! 2021 me in her study writing a random 3k first chapter could never have imagined being this lucky)

The Ring-In (with @dustratcentral) (911 Lone Star, this fic makes me feel like my Tarlos writing has gotten worse instead of better lmao)

Fifty First Dates (RWRB)

(Not) A Cinderella Story (RWRB)

Cursed is a State of Mind (with @dustratcentral) (RWRB, just about to hit 1k! there's something magical about an ifyoustay collab apparently)

jeez i never realised how RWRB heavy that is...

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always. You put in the effort to comment on my work, I'm gonna put in the effort to reply to you. I appreciate comments so much, even if they're just emojis or one line or whatever. I appreciate every single one of them (except the mean ones).

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't usually go here, but I think it has to be Contaminated (RWRB).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

99% of my fics have happy endings (except for the fic above lol) but I'd say the happiest ending is in (Un)Professional Services because they're So. In. Love. and they just *spoiler* together and they're about to *spoiler*.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Rarely and I usually ignore it or delete it (so there's no point doing it).

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

A Lot. Usually served with a heavy side of feelings - I like it when the smut drives the plot, when it helps the characters have those Oh Shit realisations. I'm also a sucker for explicit, enthusiastic consent.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have written like 30% of a RWRB/Lone Star crossover that may never see the light of day because I keep forgetting about it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have, I don't know about it.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I've had a few of my fics translated by incredible people! Phonography, Warm Whispers and Baby, Make Your Move have all been translated and can be found above. I'm fine with people translating my fics, so long as they're linked to the original and remain on ao3.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes and I love it. I want to do it more often! @rmd-writes collab was an amazing experience. i've also loved working with @dustratcentral on so many of my more unhinged works.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I don't think I can choose between Alex/Henry and TK/Carlos.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Probably that damn crossover, unless there's like significant interest in me finishing it lmao.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oh no. giving myself a compliment help. I would say worldbuilding. dialogue/banter. gratuitous feelings during sex.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

exposition. being concise. overwriting to the max @three-drink-amy (this is an attack on you as well but we are we).

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i've done it before but to be honest i'm scared to. 1) i don't want to get it wrong. 2) i don't want to annoy my very talented friends that can speak other languages by asking them 10 billion questions lol.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

...I plead the 5th.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Love Game. I don't care that it's not as popular. it's my child. Also, ALTA (because of the many tears that went into it). We are bonded by trauma.

open tag on this one and also calling: @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @heartstringsduet @alrightbuckaroo @three-drink-amy @goodways @iboatedhere @wandering-night19 @birdclowns @liminalmemories21 @indomitable-love @clottedcreamfudge @sherryvalli @cha-melodius @cricketnationrise @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe @theghostofashton @orchidscript @lemonlyman-dotcom @kiwiana-writes @freneticfloetry @sunshinestrand @nelsonnicholas @tailoredshirt @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @lightningboltreader @hippolotamus @dumbpeachjuice @tellmegoodbye @ladytessa74 @louisii-reyes-strand @beautifulhigh @athousandrooms @villiageidiot @inflarescent @marjansmarwani @safeashousespdf @tintagel-or-cockleshells @sanjuwrites @lilythesilly @kiloskywalker @noxsoulmate

#20 questions #personal #tag game #finally early on a tag game what is going on!?

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yeyinde · 5 months

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I found your COD works on ao3 and there is quite literally NOTHING else that makes me ascend higher than your writing AAAAHHH your prose is incredibly seamless and blends so beautifully together that i find myself on the ground afterwards because EXCUSE ME?? They didn't tell us you could do that with words?? (youre the reason im researching a game ive never played before in my life at 3 am) how you are real

Anyway!!! I dont know if this was already asked, but i wanted to know about your writing process and how you got to where you are now

Thank you for always giving us your best work!! 🩷🩷🩷

it's only Thursday and here i am. just bawling my eyes out. this is incredibly sweet, and you are being way too nice to me, honestly!!! 😭 thank you so much!! and i'm so glad you've been enjoying what i write so far 🖤

i did my best to actually answer this in a way that was somewhat coherent but it's really hard to type through the tears.

i don't have much of a writing process, tbh! i mostly just shape things around a concept or a scene i want to write about, or one that i kinda picture in my head. the rest is mostly just filler to get us there.

i think i spend the most time on words—the placement, the meaning, the sound, and the way it looks/flows with everything else. i'm very particular about the ones i pick. i know a lot of it might seem like regurgitating a thesaurus (which it def is, tbh!!!), but i really love etymology. everything has a purpose. even though a lot of what i write is just gratuitous smut lmao

i also really love scripts. i don't write multiple drafts. what i end up posting is usually the first draft with minimal editing (because i am egregiously lazy and also hate re-reading my own work), but as i write, i like to make the outlines for scenes in the same style as a script. i think it gives me more flexibility to really dig down into what i want from a particular moment by framing it like a beat from a movie or play. it might not be for everyone, but it helps me focus on what i need to do—especially with dialogue.

as for how i got to where i am now: i definitely got much more confident in my particular style, which i think is obvious if you read my earlier stuff to now. i was very worried about how i came across in writing (like using rare words, dabbling in wordplay, going on very obscure tangents and making strange metaphors), but i'm a lot more willing to experiment with things than i was before. i also don't take myself seriously at all. everything i do is for the fun of it, so i've never felt pressured to stay within a certain genre or style. i just do what i want, mostly!

#i'm not sure if this really answers your question! i mostly just went on a tangent about how much i love words lmao #but thank you for this!!!!#i can't describe how it feels to just log in and get such an incredible message like this #just pure awe

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diodellet · 2 years

Text

he's the romantic one (simeon x gn!reader)

ay new smut with the angel man! but also please stop torturing me with your beauty!! i am BRoke!!!! content warnings: -reader is described as flat-chested (no mention of genitalia) ++established relationship shenanigans (of the movie date variety), some finger sucking and mentions of spit, gratuitous nipple play, frottage, handjobs word count: 2.6k words minors do not interact

With the weak volume of your laptop's speaker, you have to share a pair of earphones with Simeon, sitting close enough that your thighs touch.

"I-I don't get why they've got to hook up in the middle of the apocalypse. Ew—" You clap a hand over your eyes with a smack.

"Eh? Are you alright?" You should be thrilled. He's got his attention now trained on you.

"Mhm, yeah. I'm fine. It's just—ew what the fuck they're kissing—" In your blind search to lower the volume, your fingers accidentally increase the volume even more. You scream in tandem with the actors' moans and yank up the collar of your shirt to obscure your face, dislodging the earphone out and cutting yourself off from the audio.

Thankfully, a pair of hands shuts the laptop screen closed, putting out the last of your bedroom's light.

"I didn't think a romance scene would put you off."

Your face is still burning from the ordeal that you were put through. But you could project it—your mortification—onto that, the movie. Sitting back on your palms, you fumble blindly for the earphone. Simeon hands it to you and you quietly thank him.

"I-it's the end of the world!" you reasoned, "why would they be doing something like that? Shouldn't they be trying to—oh, I don't know—survive?"

He laughs, a carefree sound that doesn't contain a hint of mockery. You then feel the weight of his head leaning against your shoulder. "You can't blame them for wanting to... commemorate their last few days together." Maybe it's the darkness of the room, making you hyper aware of his presence beside you. You can hear a hint of wistfulness in his voice. Well, he did have a sense for romanticism.

There was a running joke that he was the cheesy one. Something something, mansplain, malewife.

"'Commemorate,'" you snort. "You sound like the type who'd wanna get married before having sex."

"And you're the one who started screaming once the leads kissed." His laughter doesn't let up. "I didn't quite peg you for the shy type."

It's not like you were completely inexperienced! You open the laptop and readjust the volume. You've watched porn and read erotica. You were given the talk about the birds and the bees, and sometimes you've indulged in your needs with your hand. This was a completely natural thing that happened, especially in movies. But even with all that knowledge...

"Actually...it was when it cut to their naked bodies but still." You protest, "I'm not shy... It's just, I'm—" You wince at the change in angle as it focuses on their faces, focuses on all the nasty sounds their lips make as they sloppily make out. "—grossed out by bodies...Why does it sound like that—they're so...into it, eugh." You turn your head away and instead look at a patch of blankets lit up by your laptop's screen.

Unaffected by the scene in front of him, Simeon muses thoughtfully, "I guess the acting might not be your cup of tea. It does seem a bit...forced." He was a writer himself, but more than that, he was an angel. Did he ever have to think about these things outside of his line of work? Well, he might not have had much reason to initially, you reason. But if he was with you now... your mind starts wandering. Did he think of you in those situations? Did casual skinships like this—sitting thigh to thigh, hands brushing against each other, little contact points to hardly exchange warmth—also have any effect on him?

If you hadn't ruined the movie watching with your annoying screaming, you were definitely ruining the experience by continuing to make a scene out of this.

"It's so bad, I can't continue watching," you groan, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyesockets. Your cheeks still have yet to stop burning with secondhand embarrassment. Your own hands reach out to shut the laptop screen closed a second time. This time, deliberate. "I'm sorry, I'm—ugh."

You are a mess.

The silence of your room combined with the thump of your pulse in your ears compounds your discomfort. "Would you have wanted to watch something else?" you ask. Why did you turn to face him? You were both sitting in darkness, so it's not like he could see you.

Simeon scoots closer to your side. He makes a non-committal noise. "I don't always watch this kind of genre, so it was interesting." His hand slips underneath the hem of your shirt, with his gloved fingertips pressed against the small of your back.

Your posture straightens at the feeling against your bare skin. "I probably ruined it, didn't I?" you blurt out.

"Well, your reactions partly made it interesting." His hand rises to rest against the base of your shoulder blade.

Thanks for calling me juvenile, you think to yourself. Your hands tighten into clammy fists, creasing the fabric of your bedsheets. "Simeon, I love you, but I think you're just saying things—" Your sentence tapers off into a surprised squeak when his palm brushes against your front.

The little noise seems to echo throughout the confines of your bedroom. "I do mean it, really, I do," Simeon reasons, his other hand snakes around your waist. Both of his palms, warm and gentle and all of those good sensations, are cupping your chest. It isn't quite stimulating, but nonetheless, it leaves you anticipating for more. "I did want to do more than just watch a movie with you though." You then hear a note of suggestiveness creep into his voice.

Your pulse speeds, buzzing with excitement. You can't fight the growing smile on your lips. "What do you mean by 'more'?"

The longer strands of his hair are tickling the side of your head as he leans closer to you. "Let me touch you, please?" he whispers right against your ear, low and breathy and needy. And you feel your pulse stutter at the sound of your name falling from his lips.

He's already been touching you, you want to say. But your words get caught in your throat. And all you can do is place your hands atop his, lean into his touch. One of your hands searches for him—

"Mm!" The firm press of his lips to yours makes you melt in his hold. Equally needy for him, maybe greedier for more. But Simeon, with all his patience and his considerate nature, is a slow lover. His tongue slips into your mouth. He isn't doing anything forceful, but you can feel your breath being stolen away. Even in his gentleness, there's something almost lewd and obscene in the gesture—He wasn't boring, far from it.

You were just impatient. Needy. Greedy.

Simeon pulls away, lightly panting. Your own breathing is also quick, chest rising and falling underneath his palms. You can feel drool running down the side of your mouth. Thank God you're under the cover of darkness in your room, he won't have to see the accompanying dazed expression on your face.

"I...hah... thought you were going to...touch me..."

"Hm? I am." His lips graze the side of your jaw—

—then the junction between your neck and shoulder— "...but...I thought..."

He hums, waiting for you to gather your words. "Thought what?" You feel his breath ghost along the center of your nape.

Was he really going to make you say it aloud? Heat creeps up your neck. You swallow tightly in a vain attempt to dispel the growing fluster. "I thought you were going to touch my...chest...a-ah Simeon—"

His gloved palms squeeze the sensitive flesh and you arch into his touch. You catch yourself, biting off the moan that threatens to escape your throat. Instead digging your nails into the skin of his wrist.

"I haven't forgotten about these," he reassures, "just let me take care of you."

The heat emanating from his body is persistent against your back. Both sides of your body are bracketed by his legs and it leaves you no room for escape. The most you can do is shift your legs in a vain attempt to relieve the growing pressure between your thighs. The tips of his fingers idly trace circles around your areolas, the gentle motion teases your nipples erect.

You're very much sure that the darkness of your bedroom is adding to it, multiplying the sensations tenfold. When he pinches the nub in between his fingers, it tears a high-pitched keening noise from your throat. Your chest pushes forward to lessen the twinge of pain. Your arousal is hard to hide at this point, you're sure that he can feel you shifting on his lap.

"Wouldn't you want me to turn around?" Your voice comes out in a whisper. So you can face him and also run your hands along his body. Maybe even get to feel him put his mouth on your chest. You want—no, you need something to occupy your hands, instead of just having them sitting there.

Instead of leaving you helpless. Passive. Subjected to his touch. A mere recipient.

"No, not yet." His hand leaves your chest and you whine at the loss of touch. Your dismay only elicits a soft laugh from him. Your ears pick up the sound of rustling fabric and before you can piece together its source, you feel the tip of his finger prodding at your bottom lip. "Will you open up?" he asks. Oh. So he took off his gloves.

You don't need to be told twice. You open your mouth and lave his fingers with your tongue. Your eyes flutter shut as the digits explore your mouth. Pressing down on your tongue, brushing against the inside of your cheek, grazing the edges of your teeth, coating them in even more of your spit. He doesn't push until the back of your throat, only shallowly fucking the inside of your mouth with his fingers. The slow deliberate movement sends you further down your arousal, filling your head with fog. Your hips thrust against empty air, searching for some kind of relief. It feels good but it's not enough—

"Mm...just like that," Simeon praises before withdrawing his fingers. Your lips feel puffy, more drool slips down your chin. You chase after his hand only to be pulled flush against his chest. His spit-laden fingers return to toy with your nipples and the newfound sensation wrings out a pitiful mewl. What you would give to have his fingers at the junction of your thighs.

"Simeon, let me touch you too, please..." you whine, unable to keep the building frustration out of your voice. You can feel his erection straining against the fabric of his pants, an insistent heat against your lower back. Wasn't he getting impatient too?

You feel him turn you around to pull you into another deep kiss, feel him swallow your long drawn-out moan, swallow down your frustration and need until you're wrenching away to gather air back into your lungs. Simeon, not quite, sated moves lower and mouths at the hollow of your throat. Moves down your torso to seal his mouth around one of your nipples. His other hand doesn't stop groping at your chest, doesn't stop palming at the heated flesh. Every brush of his tongue and fingers against your overstimulated nipples sends a little tremor through you.

The stimulus is almost bordering on painful, but in this position, you can grind against him. Savor the friction between both your groins. The fabric of your bottoms reduced to a thin barrier.

"Can I touch you too?" Your fingers ghost along his waist, hovering just short of making contact.

Simeon pulls away, releasing the nub with a pop. "Mhm." You feel him shudder as your hand brushes against the skin of his lower stomach. After unbuttoning his pants and taking his cock into your hand, you slowly drag the tip of your finger against the sensitive vein running along the underside of his shaft. His breath hitches. "...do it gently, please." His hold on you tightens and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. You can't get enough of that sound, the shaky whimper and the addicting breathiness of his voice when he calls your name.

The steady stream of precum leaking from his tip makes it easy to meet every cant of his hips with your strokes. Your hand curls into a tight fist for him to fuck. "Don't forget about..." Your other hand guides him back to your chest.

"Mmh..." The flat of his tongue drags against your other nipple before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. The gesture elicits a low groan from deep in your chest.

Quiet moans mixed with curses and praises, chants of your name and his, 'more' and 'need' and 'please', you're not sure who's saying what anymore. There's no one else to hear, but your attempts at stiflling the sounds—only making them just barely audible for the other—makes the darkness of your room all that more hallowed.

His thrusts grow more clumsy the closer he draws to release. You can feel your thighs straining with exertion. The only warning you get is the graze of his teeth against the nub, followed by him releasing your nipple to claim your mouth in another bruising kiss. And you feel him spill into your hand. Your pace doesn't let up, thoroughly milking every drop from him.

...

(You keep the lights of your room on a low setting, so that neither of you trip or knock against anything as you clean up. Not that you're a messy person, but going several rounds made a simple trip to the bathroom more difficult than it needed to be. You forego your shirt, leaving it hanging off the edge of your hamper. You give your chest a cursory glance and—oh. Those look...

You set the fresh shirt from your cabinet back down.

"Should I just go shirtless...they're probably going to chafe..." you mutter to yourself as you stare at the forming bruises on your chest. Prodding a finger against your nipple elicits a quiet, pained hiss.

You don't think you can understand his fascination with your chest. Much less why he always focused so much of his attention on the two little nubs. They were small, pretty much unremarkable. Well, the underside of the shallow curve sometimes felt ticklish, but more than anything, it took an agonizing amount of time to get you to feel that much.

"I wanted to see if you could do it hands-free." Simeon's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Your shoulders tense and your hands quickly drop to your sides. While he's also clad in his underwear, his posture is relaxed, loose.

At your wide-eyed stare, he says, "you were kind of...talking aloud." His expression is sheepish, but there's an undeniable tone of fondness and amusement coloring his words.

It doesn't take long for you to piece together what 'do it hands-free' means. Your hand claps over your mouth out of mortification. "I-is that even possible though?" Your cheeks feel hot, you can't look him in the eye and duck your gaze. "Th-that has to just be a porn thing."

His lips are right against your ear and it sends more heat through your frame. You can hear the smile in his words. "I still think it's worth a try, don't you?" You remember how you were reduced to a whining, needy mess in his lap. If that's what an attempt entailed, then what more if it became a regular thing?

"Argh, shut up! Sleep!" You knock your pillow against the side of his head. It does little to dispel the fluttering in your stomach.)

*twirls hair* haha simeon having a thing for small tits... let me have this one (1) singular fantasy

anyway if you liked reading this, don't be afraid to reblog and holler in the tags. your comments mean everything in my fight against my inner saboteur.💕💕

#obey me smut #mdni #obey me simeon #gn!reader #ibtc readers this ones for you #dellet-writings #kung kelan nagsulat ako para kay simeon...di naman siya nagpakita sa nightmare hmp. edi wag #i just think that simeon only plays up his innocent angel act when hes gonna blindside you with lewdness #but other than that the guy is freakae like gosh *fans self*

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notasapleasure · 9 months

Text

The world turning at his pace

aka that time in the back of the van

Cassian Andor/Brasso (Andor TV series), Explicit, modern AU, friends with benefits, idiots in love, plot what plot/porn without plot. i.e. the same fic I write every time, Pinky. Title inspired by lyrics from Elbow - An Audience with the Pope. 6,988 words. *julia dreyfus haha what the fuck.gif* CW a smidge of setting typical homophobia, but don't worry there's also gratuitous insulting of Rupert Murdoch.

I was tired from van driving and demanding Brassian smut, or prompts for it, and @distressednoise obliged in the most ingenious way. THANK YOU FOR ENABLING ME, FRIEND.

Not on ao3 yet, this is a special treat(??) for my tumblr sickos until I can be bothered uploading it properly.

---

It should have been a simple job. Brasso picked up the van - full - and drove it to all the addresses on the list he was given until it was no longer full. Then, in the darkness, he turned back towards the depot, which lay a straightforward few hundred miles down the motorway, and anticipated being back in his own bed by dawn.

He was somewhere around Penrith when a ringtone interrupted the Shipping Forecast on the van radio. He'd forgotten his damned mobile phone was still charged; no matter how long he left it in the depths of his jacket pocket it never seemed to die. And when it rang, it was only ever one person calling - the same person who had set the ringtone to a tinny electronic version of Auld Lang Syne in honour of Brasso's rum-fuelled rendition last December.

With the phone beeping incessantly, Brasso cursing, and the ubiquitous Border rain lashing down on the windscreen, the van pulled into the hard shoulder of the M6 with its hazards flashing. For a moment, Brasso sighed at the percussive beat of the wipers and the indicators, then the ringtone started up again, grinding out its stately rendition of the Scottish ballad with the kind of patience - the kind of necessity - that didn't hang up early.

After a swift rummage in the hi-vis jacket lying on the passenger seat, Brasso raised the little device to his ear. "Yes? What's up?"

A lorry steamed past in the outside lane and Brasso felt his teeth rattle as the road shook beneath it.

On the other end of the line a familiar voice smirked directly into his ear: sweet, sharp and vicious as tequila with all the chasers. "Heard you were on a job up north?"

"How did you hear that?" Brasso shook his head, figuring Cassian would pick up the gesture well enough by his tone.

"Word travels," came the cryptic answer.

"What word? I only left this - yesterday morning."

"And you've been busy, lots to deliver, I know..."

"What is it you want, Cass...?"

"I thought if you were in the area..."

"What area?"

"If you were in the area I could really use a lift. I'm out of cash and I've got to get back to London..."

"What area, Cassian?"

The answer, sheepish, was mumbled so Brasso had to think hard to work it out.

"Stockton? On Tees? What the fuck, Cassian..."

"I mean, I'm near there. Trying to get a lift to - " as another lorry rumbled past Brasso's van he heard a horn honk down the line and Cassian unleashed a barrage of colourful curses in English and Spanish. "Yeah well fuck you too! I'm already in the ditch! Hello? Yeah, Brasso, I'm heading to Darlington. On the main road. How long will you be?"

Brasso mentally totted up the extra miles, the slow roads over the Pennines to the other side of the country. At least there'd be fewer rude freight vehicles that way, he supposed, as another one buzzed him with an indignant honk of its own.

"An hour and a half?"

"An hour?! I thought you were in the area!"

"Cass, 'the North' is a pretty big area. I'll come as quick as I can."

"Well do," Cassian pouted down the line. "It's wet, my socks are soaked already. You should break the speed limit or I might die of hypothermia."

Brasso let out a sigh. "If you get there first, wait at the petrol station on the bypass, ok?"

"If I'm not killed in a hit and run before then..."

"All right, Cass. See you soon."

"Yeah. Yeah, fine. Thanks..." there was warmth and genuine gratitude in that last word, at least.

Brasso flung the phone aside and rubbed his face. It never did to ask why with Cassian - it was best just to pick up the pieces and see what could be salvaged afterwards. He flicked the dial of the radio along until some sort of cheesy commercial station replaced the sober tones of the BBC. Penrith to Darlington, in a storm, as fast as he could go - this required power ballads.

Humming along to the closing bars of Total Eclipse of the Heart, he switched off the hazards and pulled out into the dark, momentarily quiet lane of the motorway. He cycled through the van's gears with ruthless efficiency until the engine sounded like a Formula One racer and the chassis began to rattle. Empty, the van sure could move, but the faster he went the more he expected to take off at the slightest bump.

Ten songs and one cursory news bulletin later, with the same handful of adverts repeated time and again between them, and Brasso was bringing the van in a loop around Darlington's centre, slipping beneath the sulphur-orange street lights as the fuel light glowed sadly up at him. He was running on fumes, but he'd said to meet at a garage, and his employers had given him a cash bonus to cover the cost of fuel.

There was no sign of Cassian there, however, and Brasso worried Cass had found a completely different place to wait. He checked the time again and filled the tank. He bought an assortment of foodstuffs and drinks from the kiosk when paying for the fuel and looked around as though all it would take to summon Cassian was a tube of Pringles, an energy drink, and a packet of gummy sweets.

Under normal circumstances, Brasso wasn't convinced it wouldn't have worked, but Cassian evidently hadn't reached the garage yet and remained stubbornly absent. Brasso got back in the van, peered into the drizzly night, and slowly continued onwards towards Stockton.

Trust Cassian to be walking along a duel carriageway on a night heavy with fog and rain. Would he be wearing hi-vis? Would he hell. Brasso switched the radio off and leaned over the steering wheel to stare at the edge of the road. He slowed to a speed that would really annoy his fellow road-users, only there were so few about at this hour of the morning.

He was starting to wonder if he'd missed Cass in all the spray and the spume when something caught his eye on the other side of the road - a bedraggled scarecrow loitering at a bin in a layby. Frowning, Brasso pulled into the inside lane to try to get a better look - and got undertaken by a furious white Audi for his troubles.

He took the next exit and followed the convoluted directions that would lead him back onto the road going in the other direction, and was soon approaching the layby.

Cassian fell upon the door to the passenger seat and was inside, dripping on all Brasso's stuff, before the van had even stopped.

"Jesus what took you so long?"

"What were you doing over here?!"

"What?"

"I was coming from the west, why were you on this side of the road?"

"I told you, I was trying to get a lift!"

"But you knew I was coming, and I'd be on the other side!"

Cassian was rummaging in the glove compartment and finally found what he'd been looking for: Brasso's tobacco, papers and filters. "Oh my god, I need this..."

The instant turbulence inside the cabin when Cass arrived meant Brasso hadn't noticed the van's grumpy beeping until they were up to 80, heading back towards the dull orange glow of Darlington and its corona of light pollution. "Cass - seat belt."

Cassian made a sound - acknowledgement, oral eye roll, impatient sigh all rolled up together - and fidgeted, speedily rolled fag hanging from his lips as he sought the end of the seat belt.

Brasso swore he could hear Cass's clothes squelch. That long trenchcoat hadn't been waterproof since before Cass inherited it from his foster-father. It was like Cass thought that even repairing or properly maintaining it would cause it to lose its connection with Clem.

He settled, though, and the windows started to mist with condensation as the van's heating warmed him up.

By the time they were back at the junction for the A1 some unfortunate HGV driver had aquaplaned themselves into a horizontal position across both lanes, which were closed until the lorry could be moved. Thwarted, Brasso tried to give a good-natured nod to the police officer redirecting them - as Cassian kept his head down and his collar up - and speculated on a new route through the countryside, meandering a way over to the A19.

It was gone 3am by the time they passed Thirsk; Cassian's teeth were chattering though the heating was all the way up and the van cabin smelled of burning dust and hot plastic. The air was tropical with the moisture still steaming off him, but the heat was making Brasso sleepy as hell, and between them he and Cassian had already finished the bag of gummies and the energy drinks. Cassian hadn't told Brasso what he'd been doing in the North East and Brasso hadn't asked.

"Back in London tonight?" Brasso stifled a yawn against the back of his hand as they drove past a picnic spot, thinking wistfully that he could pull over there and sleep in the cabin if he didn't have a soggy passenger in the other seat.

Cassian made an ambivalent noise. His arms were wrapped tight around his torso, his elbows gripped in his hands. "No...just before tomorrow." Noticing Brasso's incredulous look, he added "I mean, this afternoon? He won't be looking for me until then."

Best not to ask - always best not to ask. But Brasso gave Cassian another sideways look that said he was very much tempted to ask.

"Shall we stop?" Cass released an elbow so he could chew on the fingernails of the hand that had been holding it.

"What?"

"That's why you're asking, right? You've been driving for hours. We should probably stop."

Brasso had been trying very hard not to think about stopping or sleeping, lest the very idea of either be so tempting he'd just succumb then and there. "No B&B's gonna be open at this time of night, Cass."

"We can sleep in the back of the van!"

The suggestion was so immediate Brasso guessed Cassian had been considering it for some time already.

"Have you seen back there? It's filthy. Last job was a bunch of reclaimed garden gnomes, they came with half the bloody garden!"

"I guess the other option is you drive till you pass out and then we get beds in A&E," Cassian hissed as Brasso had to blink and swerve when someone in the other lane sped past without dimming their headlights.

With a curse, Brasso assented. He told Cassian to keep an eye out for laybys, though now they were back on the motorway he figured they'd just have to wait for a truck stop that wasn't already full. They were past Wetherby and had finished the Pringles too by the time they found one, and made a dash from the cabin to the rear of the van through rain that was thinner but no less persistent than it had been further north.

Cassian hopped into the back as Brasso was still hoisting himself up and trying not to hit his head on the roof. He wrinkled his nose and crouched to rummage through the crumpled pile of packing sheets, looking for something dry, clean and comfortable to lie on.

Nothing met all three criteria, but a combination of loosely folded sheets made a sort of pillow and a cover for the cold metal base of the van. Everything smelled of mud and oil and antifreeze, but that was soon disguised by the smoke of the cigarettes Brasso rolled for them while Cassian wriggled out of his wet trousers. In the dark of the van he didn't bother hiding the fact he was watching Cassian, and Cassian didn't pretend not to notice. An ember-lit outline of sharp limbs, his eyes glittering and fathomless, Cassian sat there in his boxers and t-shirt, smirking around his fag at Brasso as he waited on the simply arranged square of bedding, his knees drawn up and his arms draped loosely around them.

Taking his time, Brasso dragged his eyes away from Cass and unlaced his boots. He left his socks on, but in an unspoken concession to Cass's continued shivering, to the goose-bumps on his legs and the way his body hair stuck out from each one, he pulled off his trousers and unbuttoned his shirt.

The cold air made his own hair stand on end and his nipples harden, but the light of their cigarettes was almost as warm as the looks they each cast across the cramped space.

"Budge up then," Brasso muttered, stubbing out his fag end against the metal roof and chucking the butt aside.

Cassian stubbed his own cigarette out and plunged them into darkness as Brasso shuffled in close beside him. He pulled his hi-vis over the both of them, though it left his legs cold, and tucked himself around Cass's back - bare chest against the still-damp fabric of his t-shirt, knees to the back of Cass's knees, and Cass's round little arse perched neatly against Brasso's crotch. Brasso dutifully buried his cheek against Cass's neck and closed his eyes - though it was so dark inside that he couldn't tell the difference if he opened them again.

The rain outside continued its dance on the flat metal roof, not thunderingly heavy, but in loud, fat drops that always seemed to come and jolt Brasso's eyes open just as he thought he was finally relaxing into sleep.

Then again, he didn't feel tired anymore. The nictotine buzz was coursing through him, and Cassian had warmed up in his arms - mostly, though ice-cold toes sometimes curled round to prod at Brasso's shins. It was obvious by his breathing that he wasn't asleep either, and with a contrived cough to clear his throat he pushed back against Brasso in a way that compelled Brasso to bite his lip.

It was always going to come to this from the minute his phone rang, Brasso knew. It happened off and on, the way Cassian came and went in and out of the lives of those around him. It had been happening off and on for some years now, actually. If Cass needed a favour, Brasso obliged when no one else would be soft or daft enough to do so; Cassian, perpetually broke and perennially aware of the effect his big brown eyes had on people, paid Brasso back in love bites and nail marks. It would have made Brasso feel like just another of Cass's lovelorn, disposable conquests -only with him, Cass did one thing he never did with the others - he kept coming back when he needed Brasso. By now they had both become quite good at knowing the steps that would ensure things continued this way and Cass would keep on coming back as long as Brasso kept on releasing him so he'd return again. It was a simple sort of dance with very little discussion involved and a lot of implicit assumptions - it needed to be, given the darkness of the back of the van.

Once more, Cassian wriggled against Brasso until he forced a grunt of acknowledgement from Brasso's lips. Brasso fidgeted in turn, trying to make sure nothing essential was trapped under Cass's bodyweight.

Cass twisted his head around, his messy hair catching in Brasso's nose and mouth. "You still awake?"

"Yes I'm still awake, you won't stay still for five seconds!"

Inevitably, with the pressure of Cass's arse against him, Brasso had already felt the first stirrings of heat in his groin. When Cass detected it too, he shuffled back against Brasso's twitching cock, ensuring it would harden between his arse cheeks. Again, Brasso bit his bottom lip and turned his face towards Cassian's neck. His arm tightened around Cass's body and he breathed in the smell at the nape of his neck - sweat and rain and cheap laundromat detergent, cigarette smoke and ground spice and something astringent: counterfeit ink? Cleaning fluid? Machine oil? Probably a palimpsest of all three.

Cass gripped onto the arm round him with one hand and reached behind him with the other, fingers questing for Brasso's arse to give it a squeeze and pull him closer.

Finally, Brasso let himself open his mouth against the back of Cass's neck and scrape his teeth over clammy skin, placing a kiss on each protruding vertebra he could reach, nuzzling his way down the back of Cass's t-shirt until he felt the vibration of a whine in Cass's chest beneath his arm.

When Cass moved with the kind of urgency that followed no force on earth could hold him - he shuffled his hips round and his arms snaked across Brasso's side and under his neck as Cass pressed close to him in the dark, his nose bumping against Brasso's cheek and his lips seeking out Brasso's lips. Salty flavouring from the crisps they'd shared and a hint of sugar from the energy drink coated his tongue as he thrust it into Brasso's mouth, kissing him hard and hungrily.

Brasso let himself be turned half onto his back by the attention, Cass pushing aggressively down on him, his hands clamping Brasso's jaw to hold him just how he wanted, before one restless set of fingers trailed down the open front of his shirt, raking through chest hair, carelessly catching at the ticklish curls on his belly and then plunging into the waistband of Brasso's boxers.

Brasso's hips bucked into the touch, but he could feel a rivet on the floor of the van's uneven surface digging into his shoulder blade, and it wasn't quite the juxtaposition of pleasure and pain that did it for him.

Cass didn't understand that from the sound Brasso made in his mouth though and redoubled his efforts down Brasso's underwear, fingers crooking deep under his balls and palm rubbing down on his cock. For a moment it did actually balance the pain in his shoulder quite well, and then Brasso managed to break free of the kisses, a hand gripping the back of Cassian's hair like he was dragging an overenthusiastic dog away from last night's takeaway on the street floor.

Cass bared his teeth in a similar way to a dog, too - Brasso knew because they dragged on his lip as he pried Cass away and shoved him over onto his back with a grunt.

Cass released his cock and dug fingernails into Brasso's chest instead, tangling in the thick dark hairs there and tugging so Brasso's skin prickled with sore heat.

Swearing as he kissed the squirming, sharp-toothed thing beneath him, Brasso fumbled for Cass's face in the dark, raking his own fingers through Cass's beard and hair. He dropped his hips heavily against Cass's and was in no doubt that the noise Cass made was a sign of appreciation at the rough handling. Brasso moved his grip from Cass's face to his hips and ground his body down against Cass's, groaning at the friction between his boner and the two layers of thin cloth separating it from Cass's equally hard cock.

It made Cass release another sound, and he didn't bother disentangling his fingers from Brasso's chest hair before ripping one hand away to yank the back of Brasso's boxers down and land an open-palmed slap on the arse cheek he exposed.

"Fuck!" Brasso muttered in surprise as the stinging sensation lingered while Cass's restless hand worked at pulling his boxers further down.

It just gave Cass another opportunity to clamp down on his lower lip and suck until it felt bruised, so Brasso relented and freed a hand to assist in the removal of his underwear.

The boxers were barely off his arse cheeks when Cass started wriggling away anew, slipping down beneath him towards the doors at the back of the van.

"What're you - ? Cass, where are you going?" Brasso had to hold still and listen to the hollow banging of Cassian's shoulders and arse squirming against the floor of the van as he shuffled beneath him.

The first indication he had of where Cass had ended up was the hair tickling his navel, then a breathy giggle against his stomach, followed by lips, teeth, lips, and a hand between his legs as Cass tried to manoeuvre the two of them so he could get Brasso's cock in his mouth.

It wasn't easy to prop himself up how Cass wanted without hitting his head on the roof of the van in the dark, and Brasso was only partially successful in the endeavour, but he wasn't going to spend long contemplating the bruise on the back of his head when Cass was insistently whining "Come on Brasso, fuck my mouth, I'm right here!" between swallowing as much as he could of Brasso's cock and tugging on his arse, trying to get a rhythm going.

Scrabbling in the pitch black for a hand hold, Brasso eventually found one of the straps for securing cargo and got his weight on his knees so he could thrust down into the darkness and the invisible, wet warmth of Cass's mouth. Without being able to see what was happening he could only concentrate on the sensation of tongue and pressure, sucking and - more often than he meant to cause it - gagging. Cass's fingers would tighten on his arse and he'd try to hold Brasso close even as he spluttered and choked. Brasso could feel the back of Cass's throat pulse defensively against the pressure of his cock and always slowed down afterwards, tried more measured movements, but Cass would crane his neck and bear down on him until he could dictate the angle of Brasso's hips - with just the softest threat of teeth as he did. The third time Brasso had to listen to him retching in the dark he pulled back and sat down heavily on what turned out to be his hi-vis jacket.

"Where'd you go?" Cassian said sulkily, but Brasso was already rummaging by touch for the pockets of the jacket. He found the lube and condoms first, then his lighter.

"Here," he flicked his thumb over the spark wheel and held the plate down, squinting past the little blue flame to meet Cassian's eyes.

His cheeks were flushed deep red and his lips were shining with spit. His hair was a wreck and his beard was tousled against its natural growth, his t-shirt was half shucked up and his boxers were peaked like a circus tent.

Brasso stifled a sigh at the sight of him, but Cassian didn't hide the flash of lust in his own eyes at whatever the light had revealed of Brasso himself. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and moved like he was about to pounce.

"Wait! Wait wait wait!" Brasso held a hand up with a condom held between his fingers and offered Cass the lighter.

He pulled a face and took the condom instead, raising the corner of the foil to his mouth.

"Don't you fucking rip it," Brasso held the lighter steady and glared at him, eyebrows raised in warning.

Cassian's own eyes widened - as if! - and he daintily tore the corner before opening the packet with his fingers. "Can't believe you don't trust I'm clean," he muttered around a smirk as he leaned forwards to fit the condom on top of Brasso's prominent boner.

"Like I even want to know where you've been," he answered, feeling his throat tighten with longing as he watched Cassian's fingers move nimbly down his cock, rolling the sheath over it. "Besides, you never even ask where I might have been."

Cassian looked up at him quickly, sharply, his lips hidden by his moustache and his eyes cast into uncanny darkness by the side-lighting of the little flame. He seemed so alien to Brasso when he looked like that, like a creature from another world entirely. "I can only imagine," Cassian purred, lavishing Brasso's cock with a series of firm strokes.

He leaned over then and blew out the flame of the lighter, which Brasso didn't bother holding onto and chucked aside into some hollow corner of the van.

His eyes were confused by the afterglow of the flame, but he knew where Cassian's pants were anyway and dived for them with both hands, pulling them away as Cass flailed his legs to speed up the process. It didn't really achieve the desired effect, just earned Brasso a fat lip from the knee he took to the chin, but with a crack of stitches stretching the offending item of clothing was removed and Brasso fell upon Cass guided by smell alone, following salt and sweat and musky warmth. He pushed his tongue into the base of Cass's cock and worked it against his balls, sucking the loose skin on them and then running his mouth up the taut underside of his cock.

Cass whined and squirmed and grasped at Brasso's hair, his shoulder, his arm, seeking the hand with the lube in it so he could take the bottle and open it. He poured it - mostly - on Brasso's fingers, though some dropped onto the skin of his hip and he wriggled and flinched as it trickled a cold track over his body.

Brasso felt his way between Cass's arse cheeks as he mouthed Cass's cock, probing the darkness for the place that gave way to him, eager and accommodating to the first finger, tighter around the second.

Cassian made a desperate sound and bucked his hips up into Brasso's touches. "Come on, come on..." he complained, then sucked in a sharp breath as Brasso pushed the pair of fingers deep inside him. Cass moaned, and the sound made Brasso feel like he'd been kicked in the solar plexus by a velvet boot. He made his own grunt of pleasure against Cass's nutsack and lowered his hips to the van floor, his knees bent and feet kicking absurdly in the air because he was too close to the door to lie down flat. The van floor was cold and hard under his cock and he squirmed his hips again and pushed his fingers inside Cass to help prop himself up.

Cass's body clenched round him and Cass let out a hoarse cry - "Oh, fuck, do that again!"

Brasso tried, but the pressure wasn't as great now he was stable, so he pulled his fingers out and slapped his hand on Cass's hip. "Lube - where is it?"

"Oh, do you have to? Just fuck me..." Cass's knees knocked against his sides and he tried to draw him closer with legs tangling around his torso.

"I think some would be a good idea, Cass."

"There was some on your fingers already. I threw it over by the lighter. It's not worth going looking, just come here," he got his ankles crossed behind Brasso and tugged him forwards until their stiff cocks were trapped together between them and Brasso's tongue was somewhere halfway down Cass's throat again.

He made the most of it while he was there, rolling his hips and rubbing against Cass until the sounds Cass was making in his mouth grew desperate and high-pitched.

Abruptly, ruthlessly, Brasso pulled away from him and grasped for the inside of his thighs, squeezing soft, sparsely haired flesh aside and pushing forwards with his cock. He released one of Cass's legs so he could guide his head up to Cass's hole and test the resistance of his body.

He was tight, but still keen, insisting he wanted Brasso to fuck him hard even as Brasso began to ease inside him.

He shuffled forwards on his knees as best he could, realising there was no packing sheet beneath him, wherever they'd ended up. His head and shoulders were bowed so he didn't knock the roof with his head again, and he braced himself with one hand against the roof and the other on Cass's hip, holding him steady as he pushed deeper in a careful, slow way that brought guttural sounds of impatience from the darkness where Cassian lay.

Once he was all the way in he heard Cass release a shaky breath and felt him bring his hips up towards Brasso's carefully.

"You good?" Brasso moved his body in a small pulse against Cassian's just to make sure he got a genuine response, feeling him clench and force himself to relax.

Cass whimpered, but it was lust more than discomfort that made his voice shake when he replied "Yes, fucking come on!"

Brasso grunted acknowledgement, like it made no odds to him, but he thrust carefully, in measured movements that would feel hard to Cass but kept much of Brasso's power in reserve for now. He got in as close as he could, his knees splayed to either side of Cass's body and Cass's cock held gently but firmly in his hand as he bucked his hips against him.

Bit by bit, Brasso let his hips and hand speed up and put more power into the cycle of his thrusts, and he felt Cass's body rock and slide beneath him, his attempts at getting purchase somewhere on his surroundings failing as Brasso's body pounded solidly against his. Cass's legs floundered at Brasso's sides, his knees knocking against his ribcage, and he struggled to assert any control over the pace or rhythm from where he was, caught and held by the movement of Brasso's body.

He was getting louder with each moment too, helpless sounds and the back of his throat turning to hoarse, choked repetitions of "Ah!" that got louder the harder Brasso managed to thrust inside him, the more in time he could make the pumping of his hips and of his hand on Cass's cock.

Brasso's eyes fell shut in the darkness as he focussed on the rhythm and the feeling of Cassian's insides, hot and tight, yielding yet strong around him. Behind closed eyes, Brasso imagined what he couldn't see in the dark: Cass's open mouth and his eyelids falling heavily over a heated gaze; his chest rising and falling intermittently as he gasped for breath, but jerking with each coming together of their bodies; his nipples showing hard through the threadbare fabric of his t-shirt and the hair on his belly starting to gleam with sweat where it appeared at the hemline.

Brasso's eyes were still closed when Cass came hot and gushing, spilling over Brasso's hand and spattering his belly and navel. The feeling of it - a surprise in the dark, no matter how inevitable it had been - made Brasso himself come, heat digging deep in the pit of his body and rolling up like a riptide, dragging him away from himself, rushing him into some abyss where he forgot, for a moment, that the back of the van was dark, and thought he'd gone blind with ecstasy.

He let himself lie against Cass for a while afterwards, and Cass held him tight too, his legs tangled around Brasso's and his fingers holding the back of Brasso's head like, Brasso imagined, he'd hold a man beneath water until he drowned.

Sleepily, Brasso mouthed kisses along Cassian's neck, and Cass ran fingers over Brasso's skull. Brasso fidgeted and wrung out the last remnants of pleasure from his hips with little movements that didn't do much more than allow his soft cock to slip out of Cass's arse. Cass moved his head to nose and chin Brasso's face aside until he could be kissed, now with less use of teeth, with more sweat in Cass's moustache, with even more left unsaid than went unsaid during foreplay. Brasso imagined it was the kind of kiss the heroes of cheap romance novels got at the end of the story, and, like them, he prepared for the closing of this little fantasy they shared - until the next time Cass needed him. For now they'd sleep well, wrapped round each other like weeds, and when they woke they'd finish the drive, maybe get breakfast somewhere and bitch about the morning headlines like nothing had happened, and Brasso would drop Cassian off, and they wouldn't meet again for weeks or months, and then they'd do it all over as and when they needed to.

This had been a particularly good encounter though, Brasso admitted to himself as he pulled the condom off and knotted it before slinging it away into the darkness. Probably meant it would be a while before they did this again, each one nervous of what it meant that the most satisfying fuck they knew was someone they'd never publicly acknowledge as more than a well-worn old friend. Really, Brasso thought with a degree of relief as he nuzzled his face into Cass's shoulder, it was a good job they didn't talk about this. He'd only go and say something stupid, after all, like telling Cass he'd leave the rest of the world to rot and serve no one but him if the self-sabotaging little bastard ever cared to ask.

He didn't need to though - that was the point. He already knew - didn't he?

Too sleepy to worry overly about this, Brasso fumbled around for the hi-vis again and swept it over their shoulders, shuffling until they lay brow to brow, shoulder to shoulder, their lower legs twisted one on top of the other. Cass's breath tickled his face, and Cass's wrists sandwiched the arm Brasso lay on protectively between them.

He didn't remember lying awake or agonising about a thing - next he knew there was a cool, silvery dawn light in his eyes and a cold breeze on his feet. The van's doors were open and voices sparred tetchily outside.

Brasso sat up and cast about for his boxers, pulling them on as he tried to pick up the words being spoken outside. His back and shoulders ached from sleeping on the hard, uneven bed of the van, and he longed for coffee and a cigarette to clear the fog in his mind and his mouth.

"I said come over here, you little poof! I've got a sausage bap right here for you!"

Brasso sighed at the sound of a trucker yelling across the layby and quickened his work as he pulled his boot laces tight. Peace had been nice while it lasted.

He didn't catch Cassian's reply to the provocation, but he did step out of the van in time to see him turn, quick as a snake, and, with a little hop for extra height, smash his forehead into the taller man's nose.

The first thing Brasso noticed was how filthy the back of Cassian's t-shirt was where he'd been pressed against the van floor last night. Then he admired the shape of Cass's arse in his thigh-hugging boxers and the expanse of wiry, muscled leg leading down to his bare ankles and loosely pulled on Docs, muddied yellow laces trailing. Then, belatedly, he caught himself and sauntered over to pull Cass back from the trucker by a fistful of that grotty t-shirt.

The other man wasn't about to come for more though - if Cass's Glasgow kiss hadn't dissuaded him the sight of Brasso would have done. He cupped his bleeding nose and looked at the pair of them incredulously. "Pervs," he snarled, stepping back.

"What did you do?" Brasso couldn't help but ask as Cassian turned back towards the van, chewing on the cuticle of a finger with no nail left to gnaw on.

"I was just having a pee behind the bin! I asked where to get breakfast round here," he huffed, grabbing after Brasso's hi-vis and looting the pockets for baccy and papers.

"There'll be somewhere at the next services," Brasso told him, sweeping up the discarded fag ends, used condom and some of the other detritus from the van and taking it to the overflowing bin in his cupped hands.

On reviewing the state of the van and of Cassian, he saw they'd missed the messy pile of packing sheets entirely, and Cass's t-shirt had rubbed a section of the floor nearly clean. The streaky patch of grot made it look like they'd dragged a corpse out of the back, and Brasso wondered whether his employers would prefer to hear that excuse rather than learn their van had been repurposed as a '70s style shagmobile.

He retrieved his lighter and his lube and chucked the hi-vis at Cassian. "For your dignity."

Cassian pulled a face but nestled himself inside the large jacket. Inside the cabin he arranged his socks and trousers across the over-worked air vents so they'd have a better hope of drying and sat in the passenger seat - all fluorescent orange and bare legs - smoking his way through Brasso's tobacco.

They agreed to skip the first few service stations they passed - there was a chain of diners further south that Brasso knew would feed them well enough to compensate for the lack of sleep. They probably wouldn't even ask Cass to put his trousers on either.

As it turned out, his trousers were dry enough to pull on by the time they stopped to eat, and Brasso watched Cass fall upon an obscenely stacked breakfast burger from over his vat of coffee, wondering where Cassian was putting the mountains of hash browns and black pudding that he guzzled down. It was for the best that they were both reasonably decent as the morning crowd included holidaying families, but Cass didn't modify his language when he flipped through a copy of the Sun someone had left on the table.

"Mum, what's 'scrote-faced misery pornographer'?" a young girl asked in the next booth after a particularly forceful outburst, so Brasso kicked Cassian's shins under the table.

"Can it! No one here cares what you think of the editorial."

Cass rolled his eyes and pointed again to the story that was vexing him - increased police powers, a change the paper wholeheartedly supported - and launched into a defence of his outburst, as if Brasso needed convincing of the argument against giving the pigs a free rein to stop and search at taser-point. He was thinking instead of how accurate his prediction for the morning had been, and how this was simultaneously reassuring and a little unnerving. It was like he'd already cut himself off from this time with Cass, and was just counting down until their next run in, however many weeks or days in the future it would be.

"Want me to drive?" Cassian asked him as they walked back to the van, the wind whipping his unkempt hair across his face and his smirk half-hidden by his moustache.

"You're not insured," Brasso rolled his eyes. He hadn't recovered from the last time he'd been in a vehicle with Cass at the wheel - the van was not made for the kind of ruthless speed Cass specialised in.

In any case, ten minutes down the road Cass was asleep in the passenger seat, head back against the seat and snoring lightly in a way that raised a fond smile to Brasso's lips. When he noticed himself smiling he rubbed his face and gave his cheek a tap or two, telling himself to snap out of it.

He drove straight to Sal's - it had probably been someone at the yard who had told Cassian he was up north on deliveries anyway.

Brasso drank too-hot instant coffee from a polystyrene cup in Sal's office and listened to the next itinerary. Sal wasn't mad, or surprised, that Brasso had turned up late with an extra passenger - Cassian was now rummaging through Sal's wares while Bix kept a close eye on him, making sure nothing pocketable got pocketed.

When he had his new list of addresses and orders, Brasso went out to hand it over to Bix for loading. "You want a lift somewhere?" he asked Cassian.

"First delivery of the day," Bix raised an eyebrow.

"I like to get the awkward ones out of the way first."

Cassian gazed coolly at the two of them, waiting for them to finish. "Apparently the Swede isn't pleased with the last job I did for him."

"He did not sound happy this morning," Bix confirmed, folding her arms and glancing at the perspex windows of Sal's office. "We could hear him bawling at Sal all the way at the far end of the yard."

"Guess I could stay at Maarva's storage unit for a bit," Cassian tore another strip of cuticle off between his teeth.

"Why don't you take him with you?" Bix looked over at Brasso, mischief in her dark eyes. Like Cassian, she could smirk without moving her lips at all.

"So when this pissed off Swedish guy goes looking for him, I get found too?"

Bix shrugged. "How will he know Cass is with you? Besides, you'll have a navigator and a hand with unloading."

Brasso eyed Cass and Cass eyed Brasso. Brasso wondered if Cassian was thinking the same thing as him - what if the time apart was necessary to the functioning of their benefit-heavy friendship?

But Bix punctured the seriousness of Brasso's considerations with a casual addition: "Maybe the whole of Sal's van will be clean by the time it's safe to come back."

Brasso looked at her in surprise, Cass looked casually at the inside of the van, and Bix shrugged.

With that secret not, apparently, a secret, maybe it was best to skip town for a while, Brasso conceded.

#brassian #brasso #cassian andor #andor fic #my fics #pwp #¯\ (ツ) /¯

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princeresnikov · 2 years

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it's in my nature {Tangerine} // 6

six. tangerine: refusing to be fooled twice.

Summary: Tangerine decides to deal with the murder of his terrifying boss's idiot son by confronting his prime suspect; Clementine. His approach is Manipulate, Manwhore, Malewife in that order.

{ Masterlist }

A/N: 5935 words. WHEW. i know this is like several weeks late but also work is v busy, there's a lot of events around the end of the year,,, but FINALLY we get proper clem and tang content, which is as much a treat for me as it is for y'all. let me know what you think!! im v excited for the next chapter already, and getting into clementine's head for her perspective on all that's happening. anywho, lemme know what you're thinking about it so far!!

Warnings: Don't be surprised when the OC is a terrible person and is implied to have done terrible things along with the rest of them. There will be smut in the future chapters.

Chapter Warnings: kind of implied body mutilation at the very end, discussion of death/murder

Taglist: @venusthepirate @malar-region @tangerinesgf @esmaada @sarcastic-sourwolf @djjskfkskjf @justshutupmars @somikesoc @chachadelight @andydre4m @evangelineflowers @darkchai @basementsoup @bellatrix124 @kunikidaswhore @thewinterschildren178 @felhomaly @perksofbeingamultifandomm @aniglio18 @geeiz @mimidior @justicex101 @ltlthetrifecta @salsasadd @tongerines @xkawax @hellsgatelove22 @brownficgirl @tangerineswife @cigarettesandfigureskates @ceciliahargrove

[ always open, just message or comment! ]

----

They are fucked. Three words on repeat, or six if he was feeling especially passionate; one hundred percent absolutely goddamn fucked.

With no briefcase, and a dead Son, Tangerine's imagination is treating him to a clip show of graphic and painful suggestions for how The White Death might have he and his brother killed. It kind of reminds him of those Saw movies, but less gratuitous. Hopefully. No wonder Lemon had been foolishly optimistic about the mission even before their charge had been murdered, he hadn't even so much as glanced at the briefing, the history Tangerine had forwarded him on their client and his family history. Of course Tangerine feels like it's been burned into his brain. At least now, fully aware of the almost mythic reputation their boss had, and how he'd already lost the woman he loved, father to the son who, unbeknownst to them, had been murdered some time during that conversation, Lemon seemed to operating under an arguably healthy level of fear. At the very least, the fear would spur them both into action, trying to find both the money, and whoever had killed their charge, hoping the culprit would act as a lightning rod for the White Death's surely impending fury.

"You think it's The Scorpion," Lemon had muttered less than a moment after hearing Tangerine's plan.

"Of course I think it's Clementine," he scrubbed his hand over his face, frustrated with a lead he would rather not follow, "but I think we would have seen if she tried to get back past us to have a go at him."

"So you think she was working with someone?"

"Wouldn't put it past her."

"Wouldn't put anything past her now," Lemon agrees. Then, there'd been another silence as Tangerine had glowered in the direction Clementine had disappeared, towards car four. It'd been Lemon who suggested Tangerine go after her, while he would head in the other direction, also looking for whoever had their case. Just five minutes ago, however, Tangerine had watched his brother roll his eyes and accuse him of being predictably soft enough to let Clementine talk her way out of explaining her miraculous reappearance.

"'s extenuating circumstances, isn't it?" Lemon's tone wasn't exactly what Tangerine would call apologetic, but he'd take it, "we didn't know she was The Scorpion then, did we? 's not shocking The Scorpion could talk her way out of explaining herself, 'specially when you don't know she's The Scorpion; 's her job. But she's lost the element of surprise now," he went on, adding pointedly, "and I saw how she looked at you."

"How's that?" For all his brother's earlier judgement had seemingly vanished, Tangerine was wary of it coming back in full force if Lemon were to discover his relationship with Clementine was far less than platonic, so he's curious about what it may be that his brother observed, considering The Son had figured them out from observing one short conversation.

"Same way she did the entire time we were in New York;" he explains easily, tone far lighter than the situation probably warranted, "she might have been setting us up, but you know that whole saying, the best lies have elements of the truth?" Lemon shakes his head, breezing right past the fact that he'd seemingly made peace with the realisation Tangerine was still half-denying, "she was putting on that whole schoolgirl crush act before, but she obviously still listens to you; use that, turn it back on her. She deserves a taste of her own medicine." It's almost vitriolic; his brother is more than capable of spite and ire, but in this moment it surprises Tangerine; it must show on his face, since betrayal momentarily darkens across Lemon's features, "you know she was my friend too."

Which is how Tangerine ends up in carriage seven, still also keeping his eye out for the briefcase and whoever took it if it wasn't Clementine, who he really has to stop thinking of as Clementine, and not just because she clearly hates the name. Except why should that even be a factor to consider? What Clementine does or does not like shouldn't factor into any thought he has or decision he makes because she's the goddamn Scorpion; the vicious, untrustworthy lapdog of the man whose son she may or may not have helped murder, thereby definitely condemning The Twins to some form of unspeakable death, if what The Son had said was true. The only thing he needs to consider about her is figuring out what she'd said in New York that was based on the truth, so he can use it against her. Lemon was right; it couldn't all be an act, nobody, not even The Scorpion, was that good.

Car seven was far nicer than Clementine deserved, much to Tangerine's growing chagrin. He probably shouldn't have sworn when lamenting about not having chosen first class for himself, but at least the teenager had mouthed off beside and subsequently apologise to is surprisingly useful.

"You haven't seen someone with a silver briefcase have you? It's got a little train sticker on the handle," he explains, taking a shot in the dark on the proper looking young woman, who says that she actually has. This momentary delight turns to another bought of anger when he realises that the man she's describing is someone he ran into just moments ago; it explains why he appeared to be trying to hide from Tangerine by the luggage. Gritting his teeth with frustration, he finds himself at an unexpected impasse; he knows the guy could be getting off at the very next stop, and that he should be going after him, but there's still something bothering him. This is Clementine's carriage. Allegedly.

"Is everything alright?" The teenager asks again, doe-eyed and concern in her voice. She must be watching him scan the car and find no trace of the woman he's searching for.

"There's meant to be another passenger in here."

"Maybe they got off already."

He hopes the teen isn't right, but the more he looks, the angrier he becomes with himself. Of the few passenger in this car, he could spot no-one who Clementine would, or should have been guarding. Maybe that was dismissive, maybe one of the scattered business people were far more important than he assumed, but the first job she'd lied about today was being a tutor, and the only person here who would match that cover story well was the teen next to him, and she was clearly travelling with the older, tired looking man in the seat adjacent.

"There was no little, blonde woman in this car, was there?" Tangerine asks after a moment, defeated, just trying to confirm his suspicions. The teen thinks for a surprisingly long moment.

"I saw a woman who dressed a bit like a librarian, I think she was blonde."

"She was here?"

"Yes, with the man with the hat and the glasses and the briefcase."

"She was with the man with the briefcase?"

"I think so? He sounded very American, but I'm not sure about her, I'm sorry; I heard him talking about travelling all the way to Kyoto," she paused, and Tangerine has never felt more fury or relief in his life, "are they friends of yours?" The teenager asks, earnest.

"They're not very nice people, I'm afraid, they like to trick people like you and me; I'm just having a conversation with them, but you be careful if you see them again, you hear?"

"I'm not worried, I've got Uncle Kimura," with a sunny smile, she looks to the older gentleman beside her who appears hunched on himself. He doesn't exactly inspire confidence. At the guy kind of looks like he might have an edge to him, "right, Uncle?" The girl prompts. Kimura, who'd been looking at his knees, nods sharply. It's fine, these people aren't his responsibility. Tangerine thanks them and finally turns on his heel, heading the way the girl pointed, back the way he came.

Tangerine's almost all the way back through the sixth carriage when he glances over his shoulder and spots Clementine about to enter the carriage. Shouldn't she be ahead of him? He's already at the end of the carriage, having scoured every inch while trying not to draw too much attention to himself, but somehow she's coming from carriage seven. The door glides open and Clementine raises her eyebrows at him in question, but Tangerine turns away pointedly. It's a split second decision, but in the space between cars six and five there's a tiny bathroom, and after a moment of pause, Tangerine steps inside. Fuck he hopes she'll take the bait.

It's a shot in the dark, and possibly a very stupid idea; he has no idea how a creature like Clementine will react to being cornered, but he needs to make sure she can't get away when he starts to apply the pressure.

Thankfully she doesn't keep him waiting; she never has. Moments later, there comes a hesitant knock at the door.

"Housekeeping," Clementine tries awkwardly when Tangerine gives no response; it's an echo of so many all too familiar memories. Tangerine unlocks the door without a word. Clementine only opens the door enough to peer in; again, those darting eyes of hers survey the scene, searching every inch of the bathroom and it's occupant. Tangerine bites back an irate comment as Lemon's words swim to the forefront of his mind;

She obviously still listens to you; use that, turn it back on her.

"Come on, sweetheart," it's as gentle as Tangerine will allow himself to be in this moment, "you owe me an explanation." It appears to do it's job as Clementine's eyes focus solely on his; she hesitates, but she steps into the space without much more protest. With his focus so pin-pointed on her, he catches every minute movement she makes, the way she shifts her tight grip on her bag, the way she glances around furtively before she joins him in the crowded bathroom.

"It's a private conversation," Tangerine prompts expectantly. Though Clementine clearly understands what he means, she gives pointed pause before locking the door behind herself. Every movement she makes is a pantomime of placation and submission, deliberately undermining her true identity, like she's trying to still lull him into a false sense of security. Now he sees it for what it is, Tangerine feels like a fucking fool; she set him up, first in New York, now today. But he won't speak first. He wants to know how deep she'll dig herself if she thinks he's oblivious.

"Okay, you got me," she says finally, half sighing as she puts down her bag. What? She's just giving herself up? Like that? "I was just trying to do my job, but you're right, I do owe you an explanation, and I did tell you where I'd be, so I should have expected you to come looking for me, I just didn't think it'd be immed-" she sounds so fucking casual and Tangerine's patience only extends so far. So maybe he traps her against the door with his hand over her mouth, pinning her empty, fidgeting hands between them.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," came out as a furious hiss, and there's some small victory to take in the momentary alarm in Clementine's eyes before she adjusts to understand the situation. While he can feel the way she's shifting again him acutely, tensing, readjusting to the situation, something strange happens to her expression. The tension drops, no expression beneath his hand, no light in her eyes as he's searching for something, anything in there. It's unsettling, he can't get a proper read on her. It's like she's turned off her face.

"Fuckin' scorpion's right," Tangerine scowls. Finally there's a reaction; Clementine's brow furrows and she says something but it's muffled by his hand. After a moment of deliberation, Tangerine moves his hand from her mouth to hold her jaw in an almost bruising grip, in an effort to keep her head pinned against the door.

"What detergent do you use?"

"What?"

"You smell really nice, what detergent do you use?"

"Does that sound like an explanation to you?" The words on his tongue are ice cold, a warning, but Clementine smirks.

"You sound stressed," her voice is low and laden with implications, and he feels her shifting her fingers, still trapped between them both. If she really wanted to free her hands, Tangerine's sure she probably could; no, this was just to remind him they were there. Oh, so it's like that?

Leaning in, he can feel the way her chest moves when her breath catches. There's the light of anticipation in her eyes and triumph in her smile, but his lips stop an inch from hers.

"You're a right fuckin' piece of work, sweetheart," he murmurs vindictively, gaze cold. It feels like a hard won victory to see the momentary confusion and anger in her eyes, "pretty, little Clementine's a great distraction, isn't she? At least until you split the targets up." There's something defensive in Clementine's eyes now, and when she shoves at him, he steps back. Manoeuvring smoothly around her as she stumbles forwards, catching herself on the wall, he easily blocks the door and her bag. When she looks back at him, there's almost betrayal in her eyes. A taste of her own medicine.

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"Lemon's still out there, searching for the man who you can pin all your little technicalities on; your partner with the glasses and the hat and my fucking briefcase."

"Your briefcase?" Clementine seems to snap automatically before the rest of his words sink in.

"So you did steal my briefcase?" Finally a fucking answer.

"I've spent this entire time looking for the fucking briefcase, I don't have it," damn it! " The man you're describing? I was told he had it, so if I knew him, or even found him, I would have the case, but I don't," she gestures, as if to emphasise the lack of briefcase in her possession. Then, taking a deep breath, she stands as tall as she's able, squaring her shoulders. With a defiant expression, her voice turns cold, "if I wanted to steal from you, Tangerine, I wouldn't need help."

Tension stretches from one moment to the next; neither Tangerine nor Clementine wanted to be the one to blink first.

"Keep your fucking ego in check."

"Why am I here?" Clementine rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. Again, she's gone back to being infuriatingly casual. Still, Tangerine gave a mean, little smile.

"Not so fun when you're not the distraction?"

"Why do you need to distract me?"

"Give Lemon plenty of time to make sure your partner is all ready to go for when we give you both over to the White Death," he sneered, leaning against the door for good measure, "his baby boy's killers, with a bow on top."

Clementine freezes.

"I don't do partners; if I wanted to kill the White Death's son, I promise you he would be dead before now."

"Funny how you say that," Tangerine lets the implications fester in the silence. Watching Clementine's expression, he finds there's something uncomfortable about being able to pin point the moment she turns her expression off once more. But she's fidgeting again, pulling and fussing with her gloves in a way that's almost distressed.

"I thought you were better than this," there's emotion in her words, but none of that reads on her face; "he plays the victim like it's a sport; I thought you had more self respect than to be his simpering little lackey -" it's the cruellest she's ever spoken to him, so he feels justified responding in kind.

"The only reason I haven't killed you for endangering my mission is so I can hand you over to The White Death myself."

"No," it escapes her almost involuntarily, the word coming out more like a gasp as she finally seems to believe him, expression quickly flickering back to life with a confused frown, "no," this time its almost a childish whimper as she seems to disregard her immediate situation, moving on instinct as she tries to shove past Tangerine, "this isn't funny, I need to -"

"I think we'll stay right here; don't want you scampering off."

"Tangerine, move, if he wants my fucking attention he's got it, okay?" Voice terse, she shoves him again, more forcefully, but still he refuses to budge, "move, or I will make you move." There's a definite threat in her words, but the light in her eyes is strangely dim, her gaze has gone shallow.

"You understand why I can't."

"I didn't kill him."

"I'm not about to take your word for that, sorry sweetheart."

"Cuff me then," she spits, "take my phone, walk me through the train like a fucking convict; I'm seeing him, with or without you." She's not looking at him, she's doing that thing with her eyes, the unsubtle searching for exits or advantages. There's no teasing nor sarcasm, the suggestion was deadly serious.

"Why do you even need to see him? To make they finished the job?" Still, Tangerine wasn't about to give her even an inch to run with unless he was sure he could keep the situation contained.

"I'm a bodyguard!" The outburst is surprisingly raw, frustration and desperation bleeding into her words, "I'm looking after a fucking teenager, look at me, Tangerine, you think I'm dressed like this for my health? That I'd be so fucking obvious as to have a conversation with all of you if he was my fucking target?" With Tangerine still refusing to move, Clementine has grabbed the lapels of his jacket, standing almost flush to him where he blocked the closed door. There's actual desperation clear as day in her eyes, written across her whole damn face. She's searching his expression for any hint of compassion, but she will find none considering how little he can bring himself to trust her. "Please."

"Not with your bag," finally, Tangerine's voice comes out as a murmur. The confusion is at least easier to look at than despair.

"What?"

"I don't trust you; I'm taking your bag."

"No."

"This is not a negotiation, Clementine."

They're still nose to nose, all but sharing breath in this tiny bathroom, this minute moment. The anger, the desperation disappears from her face like curtains closing on a show; he still doesn't know if it's a deliberate act or a defence mechanism.

"Okay," comes as a whisper, and slowly Clementine steps back. There's no light in her eyes, no fight, just resignation. She picks up her leather bag and offers it. Tangerine takes it almost automatically, but Clementine still holds on for a moment as he goes to pull it from her grip, "there's a lot of medical supplies in there; just tell me you'll give it back if I need it." Oh.

Tangerine gives a solemn nod, and finally Clementine lets go, lets her hand fall to the side. After a moment, Tangerine finally feels like he can open the door, can take Clementine to see The Son. Still mostly convinced that she is at least working with the bastard who killed his charge, Tangerine finds he's feeling a healthy level of apprehension, only barely eased knowing he's holding a majority of Clementine's resources.

Beyond the door is a very startled looking man with his hand half raised. He half mumbles an apology before Clementine weaves her way around Tangerine.

"Oh, no excuse us, sir," she practically giggles, responding in Japanese to the poor civilian, her eyes bright and exuding a mischievous air. It's an uncomfortably sharp tone shift from just moments ago. But Clementine catching him off guard earlier happened to be exception, not the rule; their line of worked had always necessitated flexibility.

"Sorry about that, mate," Tangerine nods awkwardly to the gentleman, who is smiling and nodding and trying to shuffle further out of what he perceives to be a happy couple's way. Clementine's already a few steps ahead, but Tangerine manages to loop a finger in the waistband of her skirt by the small of her back, catching her before she steps into the carriage proper, "sweetheart."

When she looks at him he could almost swear her eyes were bloody well sparkling. They should end the bit, the man is in the bathroom and the door is closed; why is she smiling like that? Why is he letting her take his hand?

"What?" There's a teasing edge to her voice, "can't blame a girl for being in a good mood," she gives his hand a squeeze. The door slides open and they head into the aisle between the other passengers, and Tangerine lets Clementine's hand shift against his so their fingers were linked as she trailed ahead of him. This familiar warmth came with warning bells now, but still he let her lead. Everything about her seemed so relaxed, confident, and bouncy, but for every eye she caught, they just as soon seemed to look away dismissively.

"Even the train mascots are adorable here," he hears Clementine coo as they're a few seats through the fifth carriage, squeezing herself to the side to allowed one of the plush, oversized costumes to pass. Tangerine lets her lead him out of the way too as he reorientates himself amid the ethereal, neon low-lighting of the carriage. Tangerine barely registers that he's plucked a stuffed toy out of a kid's hands before he's frowning at it in confusion.

Mononga, Lemon had said a much earlier. Kind of goofy-looking, with wide, vacant eyes. It kind of reminds him of Clementine in that unnerving, expressionless state she kept going into earlier. But he doesn't say that out loud; the comparison is unflattering, even if she had just complimented the creature's design.

"Souvenir, I guess?" He offers, giving Clementine's hand a squeeze to grab her attention. Her expression is just as open and naive as her bubbly chattering would lead anyone else to believe, and she lights up at the sight of the plushie. The neon side lights catch her blonde hair in blues and purples, like something out of a dream. This feeling isn't real, he has to remind himself, before deciding to turn this sweet, false nostalgia back on her. It was time to test how much truth their was in her lies.

It's a series of memories he finds himself dredging up from New York, shy embarrassed smiles she couldn't seem to help in quiet moments when she caught him watching her; at the time, she had seemed too good to be true, and she was. Perfect by her own design. But every time she'd half-heartedly tell him to stop, blushing furiously, unable to look him in the eye once she'd realised. She'd jokingly scolded him, careful, Detective, if you keep looking at me like that, I might fall in love with you - but when he'd asked her 'like what' she'd gone quiet. She never asked him to stop after that.

("So you think Clementine fucked you in New York because she loved you?")

So when Clementine looks from the toy to Tangerine, he focuses on that one moment of hope, of relief that he'd felt when he'd first seen her on the train. The way he'd feel whenever she'd knocked on his door in New York. Clementine actually comes to a momentary standstill; it works. There's more truth to those memories than she probably hoped he realised, at least judging by the way her whole expression softens for the barest moment. There's definitely several layers to this brief interaction he should think about more carefully, but unfortunately he doesn't get the chance.

Before Clementine can take the toy he's offering, the large mascot suit they'd passed looms up behind her, it's big, plush hand grabbing her upper arm. It's other hand keeps fussing awkwardly with something, but Clementine faces it with a confused frown, wrenching her arm out of it's grip. The mascot gives a cutey wave, emitting a string of nonsense babble before it tries grabbing at her arm again, somehow even more insistently.

"What the -?" Tangerine mumbles, with very little frame of reference for appropriate mascot conduct, which is the moment Clementine chances a confused look back at him. Seeing her own expression mirrored seemed to convince her it wasn't something he'd set up to double cross her, so in a flash, she beams. Everything happens in a flash after that -

"You're cute, but I'm with him," once again there's that bubbly, bright voice, and it's all an act again. But it's immediately followed by Clementine slipping her hand from Tangerine's and punching the mascot at a calculated diagonal, her hand disappearing between where the costume meets the mask, and there's a muffled but distinctly English 'fuck' that's far deeper than the nonsense the creature babbled a second ago as it goes toppling backwards. Tangerine pelts the stuffed toy at its large look alike for good measure, calling it an asshole. He can hear Clementine laugh, even if she doesn't look back at him; that's the part he'll remember in hindsight.

In car four, they meet the bar cart head on at an impasse in the middle of the aisle, and Tangerine slides into an empty seat, pulling Clementine out of the aisle and into his lap. He feels her tense with surprise, hand flying to where he has an arm wrapped around her middle, he can feel her begin to dig her fingers against his sleeve before her mind catches up with her instincts and she relaxes.

Tangerine apologises to the train attendant pushing the cart past them while Clementine leans back against him, giggling.

"Careful, sweetheart," he chides in a voice loud enough for the few surrounding passengers to hear.

"You'll be careful for me," she teases sweetly, matching his volume but shifting in his lap just a little, enough to tuck herself against him momentarily. He feigns half-hearted apology as he looks to the attendant again so he can pretend like he doesn't notice that Clementine still can't look him in the eyes, but instead of looking away from the spectacle they're making, the attendant's expression softens, charmed by the charade, telling them they're very sweet, and to have a good day.

They weave together around other passengers, pieces of luggage, and attendants with a fluid ease, matching each other's energy even as their chatter had died down. But, in the space between carriages three and four, everything very suddenly stops.

Dropping his hand, her attention is drawn to the small window into carriage three. A long moment passes before she tries to retreat, tries to edge into the vanity area he'd first found her in to now dart past him.

"That's three you owe me," he tells her. Clementine's mouth presses into a thin, unhappy line, but she doesn't look away from the door. At least she's stopped moving, "what the fuck?" Tangerine clarifies, holding up a first finger, "what the fuck was that?" He pointed with his now raised two fingers towards the door they just came through, "and why the fuck we've suddenly stopped?" Three.

"Easiest thing I could think of." Frowning at the door to carriage three, she starts fidgeting again; Tangerine thinks he sees a strange kind of discolouration around the fingertips of her right glove, like some kind of residue that left the dark gloves a slightly different texture and colour than they should be.

"What?"

"People are very dismissive of silly, pretty girls, and very forgiving of the sensible, handsome boys they loudly love to dote, on while pulling them at borderline unacceptable speeds through public trains," it sounds almost rote, like she wasn't even thinking about what she was saying, like she was reciting from a script, an established truth, "and loving you is easy for me." Like it's the simplest thing in the world, and not an ego-shattering blow for how easily she apparently found him to manipulate. When she looks to him, or rather, when she looks past him, still her expression is unreadable, "easiest cover I could think of."

He puts a pin in that for later, no sense dwelling until after he survives this fucking train ride.

"Why have we stopped? There's only five stations to Kyoto."

Clementine grimaces, turning her attention back to the door. From this angle, neither of them can see The Son where he should be slumped against the window.

"This is a cruel joke," Clementine's voice is flat, barely a murmur, "he's mad at me, of course he wants me to believe I'm being framed for his murder," there's an unfamiliar uncertainty in her voice all of a sudden, a wobble she can't quite hide, "he's so petty, he wants me to think it's happened again."

"We don't have time for this -"

"You don't have time," Clementine's bordering on audible distress again as Tangerine hears the door to carriage four hiss open; she doesn't seem to notice it, "I didn't hurt -" Tangerine, in an effort to keep their current, unfortunate situation from the ears of any strangers, follows Clementine's earlier lead when he kisses her to shut her up, holding her face in his hands.

Clementine takes the hint and shuts up.

There's an unmistakable yearning in the way she has always kissed him, and it comes through even now. Maybe it's the way she wraps her arms around him, she's still fidgeting just a little, but it still as she settles into it. Maybe it's the way she kisses him back without hesitation, fitting against him like she was made for this moment. Or maybe it was about the half second before he even leaned in, how her voice, her protests, had gone quiet the moment he'd held her face, how she'd bounced up on her toes automatically in anticipation, and the quiet, surprised hope that had been brighter in her eyes than any distress in that split second.

"No loitering here, please," a voice greets them in kind, but firm Japanese, and they both break apart to see an attendant smiling awkwardly at them. Clementine whips her hands behind her back quickly, flushed. Tangerine apologises to him, and when he turns back, Clementine is looking at the door to the third car, fussing with the hem of her sweater that she'd just untucked, cheeks all pink.

"Now or never," she says softly, unable to look him in the eyes. There's something different about this moment; Tangerine has no idea how to feel about what he'd just done, or what Clementine's reaction to it all means to him. She gestures for him to lead, but he offers his free hand, the other still holding her bag. Clementine takes his hand, and lets him lead her through the door to car three.

Tangerine is barely a step ahead of Clementine, but the moment his booth comes into view, his attention is drawn not to The Son, gaunt and at an odd angle across two seats, but to his brother, face down on the table. Immediately he lets go of Clementine and rushes to his brother's side. Oh god -- No blood from the eyes or mouth, definitely still got a pulse; seems like he got a bit knocked around but he'll be alright -

"There's a silver flashlight in my bag if you wanna check for a concussion," Clementine's tone is completely flat, but she's close. She hadn't taken the opportunity to run. He's... surprisingly grateful. When Tangerine finally turns to her, he sees her looking at Lemon, her expression drawn. She's leaning against the seat across from him, standing in the aisle all carefully casual with her arms crossed, but her back to The Son and the tense set of her shoulders betrays her, "if he's non-responsive, or isn't waking up, open up one of his eyelids, shine the torch from the outer edge of his eye inward, and do the same on the other side, his pupils should constrict." And her gaze flicks to meet Tangerine's, expression serious, tone no-nonsense. From where he's leaning over to check his brother, Tangerine can see the discrete way her hand is still fidgeting, "if they don't, or if they are but it's taking longer than it should, then there's a problem." After a moment, she breaks the stare, looking down at her shoes, the muscles in her jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.

Tangerine opens her bag. The first thing is notices is the torn lining inside, and something plastic behind it -

"Are these SIM-cards?"

"Can you put a pin in invading my privacy?" She's still looking at her shoes, "the flashlight should be somewhere in with my medical supplies, use it or give my bag back."

The medical supplies take up a bulk of the bag, which isn't surprising when he sees leagues beyond what would be in a simple first aid kit. There's sterilised, packaged medical tools, dressings, drugs, splints, syringes, swabs, scalpels, a damn stethoscope -

"You know how to use all this?"

Clementine makes an affirmative noise in the back of her throat but doesn't look up.

As far as Tangerine can tell, following Clementine's instructions, Lemon doesn't have a concussion. He leaves his brother for now, no sense just waiting around when there's still a man with their briefcase somewhere on the train that he needs to find. He goes to grabs the glasses that he'd previously put on The Son to hide his bleeding eyes, posing the poor bastard back up against the window, only to see Clementine, her bag in hand, at the door to the next car already. Tangerine follows briskly, catching her wrist before she can enter car two.

"I thought you wanted to see him." He drops her hand the moment she turns to him.

"I saw him," her tone is unreadable, she can't look at him now, "we need to find who did this."

"Your accomplice," Tangerine corrects spitefully. Clementine glances behind herself with a frown, slapping the open door button. Clementine backs into the space and Tangerine follows; the door slides closed affording them far more privacy.

"If I was going to kill him, I wouldn't get someone else to do it for me," she snaps, finally meeting his gaze, "but despite how shitty things got between us, I genuinely did not want him dead."

"So you hoping that his father cut out his tongue was, what, foreplay?"

"I wanted him to hurt, sure, but I never wanted him to die."

"Still not sure that argument would hold up in court."

"Well if we can't find who actually did it," Clementine tells him snarkily, "you can have a front row seat to me presumably been thrown feet-first into a wood chipper, right before our boss shoots you and your brother in the head."

Tangerine's expression is stony for a few long moments as Clementine scowls at him, before he lets out a long, irate exhale through his nose.

"Okay Scorpion, let's say I believe you didn't kill the Frog, how exactly does that save me and Lemon from execution? Because I'm not sure if you heard, but the last poor bastard who failed the White Death's family so fucking severely lost four fingers for surviving a car crash, and apparently he actually quite liked them." He's hoping it hits Clementine the way it hit him, all at once, instilling the fear of God into her about the whole situation, but her expression has darkened.

"Tangerine, how exactly do you think I lost my fingers?"

"How the fuck is that relevant right now -?" it's this exact moment that it all fits together in his mind, and he goes dead silent. Then, despairingly, "you didn't kill him."

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