#never really emotionally recovered to be honest

[parkercore-69]

hey guys, fun life update: he’s literally me !!

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[honeyhotteoks]

lessons in intimacy (k.ys)

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

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

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

pairings: yeosang x reader

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

word count: 14.5K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His tiers make you smirk, he’s funny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guided masturbation and encouragement. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath comes a little more quickly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile again. 

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

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

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

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

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

Your chest thumps hard. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. 

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

“Fuck,” You whisper. 

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

You’re nodding again. 

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

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

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

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

Your legs spread a little wider. 

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

“Does it hurt?” He croons, teasing. 

You love him like this. 

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

You pull it back reluctantly. 

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

You comply immediately. 

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath catches. 

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

A moan bubbles up out of you. 

“Hands off.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You follow his instructions. 

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

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

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

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

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

Sweat drips down your chest. 

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

You don’t have to be told twice. 

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

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

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

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

Pleasure rocks in your gut. 

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

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

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

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

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

Pressure drops in your belly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bubble inside you expands again, pressure everywhere. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blush again. 

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

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

You are so, so fucked. 

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

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

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

It’s a Thursday when everything goes to shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re frozen. 

“Miss?” A little crease between his brows. 

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

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

You can’t say anything, your mind blanks. 

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

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

“Iced or hot?” He asks. 

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

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

“Okay, sure,” He smiles, “iced,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, “Mine and my friend’s,” 

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

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

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

Blush creeps up your neck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seven,” 

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

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

“Tomorrow,” You nod. 

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

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

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

Yeosang.

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

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

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

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

“See you again,” 

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

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

Ongozisin becomes a daily ritual. 

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

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

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

He’s lovely. 

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

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

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

“The train,” You glance outside. 

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

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

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

“Oh,” 

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

Flirting, then. 

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

He grins, “I’ve been trying to,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you tell him? Do you lie? 

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

On his block you feel the internal countdown ticking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Recognized me?” 

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

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

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

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

It was so, so nice while it lasted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Undrinkable?” You blink. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” You tell him firmly. 

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” He nods, “no one knows.” 

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

“As Ryu?” He glances back up at you. 

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

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

“Oh,” You soften. 

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

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

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

“Right,” You murmur. 

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

“Anything,” 

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

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

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

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

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

You wait, your stomach in knots. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” You nod, but he continues. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A small smile appears on his lips. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod again. 

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

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

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

He nods once, his shoulders tense again. 

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

He softens, “No, no I don’t,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right,” You blush darker. 

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

You nod quickly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiles, “Those are your favorites?” 

You nod. 

“And the roleplay?” He asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The button opens. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, “So good,” 

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

You’re close. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shiver, “Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“So come inside me,” You smile. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honestly?” You grimace, “A while,” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” You answer quickly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So good,” You sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Soon,” He promises. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know how I did it,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

You nod again, your stomach flipping with desire. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus,” You shiver beneath him. 

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

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

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

“Fuck, fuck,” Your eyes roll. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm, yeah? Say that again,” 

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

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

Your pace falters slightly, “Please, please,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m coming,” He groans, “w-where?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” He murmurs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look up from the rippling water. 

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

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

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

“Yeah?” You squeeze his hand. 

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

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

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

“Tomorrow?” You lean back a little. 

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” He says, deflating instantly. 

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

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

“You like me,” You peck his lips. 

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

[ffsg0jo]

toji's not used to this.

the sweet nothings whispered into his cheek, the feeling of the newly risen sun soaking into his skin. his body is telling him to move, to get up, to just grab the money you left him on the desk and leave. but your arms tighten around his torso, and he takes a deep breath in, slightly relaxing into your hold. he reminds himself that there is no money and that there is no reason for him to leave. he's safe in your arms.

he hasn't had to leave before the sun's up in a while now. he's almost forgotten how it feels to be ashamed since he met you. you saw him like he was an actual person. really looked at him, past the hard exterior, and saw more than just a man to take advantage of.

it's taking time for him to get used to being cared for, to being loved. in the year (almost two) that he's known you, it has gotten infinitely better. he's got a roof permanently over his head, is in contact with megumi (the boy's set to move back in with his father just before his birthday) and has gotten a stable job with a decent income. you've helped him with budgeting and saving money (upon his request), and he's even started a small 'megumi college fund'.

he finds himself opening up to both you and his son more, sharing little snippets of the thoughts on his mind and his feelings. with the child growing faster and faster as the days go by, he realises just how alike him and megumi are. emotionally stunted, but both loving fiercely. he has his mother's smile though.

his wife's smile.

his late wife. she would've hated what he became after her death. would've scolded him for leaving his son with a random teenager. would’ve despised the countless murders, her heart breaking at what he’s had to do for money and a roof. maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t alive to see it.

he wonders if she'd be okay with him moving on.

in another life, you both would've been the bestest of friends. you're so alike but so different at the same time. you're both his respite too. she might've left him for you if he was being honest, the thought making him laugh dryly every single time it enters his mind.

toji feels like he can conquer the world with you cheering him on and his son right beside you, in his corner. he's getting better. he really is. but progress isn't linear.

there are still nights where he breaks down, sobbing into your arms.

he tries to be quiet, but his throat clogs up, and he can't breathe. he's gasping for air, trying to focus on the way one of your hands is sifting through his hair and the other rubbing his back. but he slips, and a new wave of tears run down his face. he's spluttering, and there's snot all over your shoulder. but you patiently hold him through it all, press kisses to his hair, gently telling him to let it all out.

"i've got you toji," you whisper. "you'll always be safe with me."

when he's finally settled, you're holding a water bottle to his lips, letting him drink as much as he wants, gently dragging a cool, damp washcloth over his face when he's had his fill. your gentleness and unfiltered love make him want to sob all over again. he's undeserving, he thinks, but he'll never be ungrateful for your love or take advantage of it. he'd do anything in power to become deserving of you and cherish you for as long as he lives.

he'll never be the man he once was. his wife's death had affected him deeply in ways he'll never recover (and part of him doesn't want to fully); she was the love of his life. but he's working on reconciling with what he's becoming and the way you've impacted his life, too.

he feels guilty for loving you sometimes, the way he loved his late wife. you've experienced things with megumi his wife could only dream of. megumi loves you like a mother figure, and sometimes he finds himself loathing the fact. it's not your fault, though, and his therapist's words constantly play on his mind, forcing the negative thoughts out. it's getting better.

slowly but surely, toji is healing. his life wasn't always easy, full of hatred and anger. he's made so many mistakes, he has so many regrets (you'd never be one of them) and he's atoning for his sins. like sand during a storm in the desert, grain by golden grain, his life has been displaced with love. with his late wife's, with his little blessing's, and with yours.

he's loved and lost, and then lost a whole lot more. but now, he's been given the privilege of loving once more.

© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

[anemicjellyfish]

Blitzø's struggle with the Asmodean Crystal

On the lighter side, it could have just been a joke. This could also have taken place before Apology Tour, since Blitzø has no issue using the Crystal to transport both himself and the IMP van through portals.

After one full season, and part way through the second, we have been led to believe that Blitzø is actually good in bed. A party-house packed with Succubi managed to get emotionally attached, so I'm having a hard time believing that Blitzø's game is in any way lacking, contrary to Verosika's song at Ozzie's.

My Theory?

I've had it floating in my head since Full Moon that Blitzø could have performance issues after Stolas cut things off. (Do I have a half-baked fanfic on what's basically erectile disfunction hurt/comfort, post-Apology Tour? Yeah, but like that's not relevant.)

Blitzø is afraid of being in love. He has a lot of emotional baggage and trauma when it comes to love. And the Crystal is picking up on the fact that Blitzø is struggling internally with balancing sexual desire and emotional needs.

It's obvious to us early on that Blitzø has feelings for Stolas. But feelings make things complicated for Blitzø. Anytime anyone gets close enough to have feelings for him, Blitzø pushes them away and bails.

He's been able to live in denial for some time now, but Stolas' confession in Full Moon made it impossible to continue pretending it was just about sex.

Blitzø had been using sex as work in his transactional relationship with Stolas. He's aware that showing Stolas a very good time is the exact thing he needs to do in order to keep using the Grimoire to keep his business running. And Blitzø knows how to do that.

Blitzø really had the fight knocked out of him in Apology Tour, after barely recovering from the emotional gut-punch that he got in Full Moon.

He's had to confront a lot of the parts of himself that he's been covering up and masking; he's growing emotionally, but that growth is leaving his heart raw and hurting.

But I think what's most important is that Blitzø has never had sex with someone he's in love with, and have it just be about love. He couldn't be honest enough with himself to admit he loves Stolas before; all their prior sex nights were work for Blitzø.

So when sex is no longer work or fun, but it's now love... how does someone like emotionally-stunted Blitzø even go about it?

Awkwardly, that's how.

[yandere-wishes]

Long ramble anon here, I'm happy you liked my long ask I was just concerned that I put way too much as I have a tendency to hyperfixate snd overexplain, hence the tldr at the end. To be honest ever since seeing the fox beastman I've been on a bit of a kick with theorizing things for him. (Did the same thing with Rollo hehe) Anyway, if you want some more of my takes I'm happy to share.

Alright so you know how beastmen retain some of their animalistic traits? Well my brain immediately goes to what this means for their romantic endeavors and courting behaviors. Not much is known about the courting process for foxes, but we do know that scent marking and loud vocal barking is used to attract a mate. How does this carry over to a humanoid fox? Well, my theory is that he will likely give his darling something like his coat, or spray whatever cologne he uses on their things or use more of it when he knows he's going to see them. As for the loud vocal barking you better believe my mind immediately went to him just belting out a serenade for his darling, regardless of how he actually may sound I think he's self-assured and prideful enough to believe this would definitely entice his soon to be mate.

Another interesting thing about foxes is that they are monogamous to a fault, rarely ever taking another mate after the passing of their partner, instead remaining loyal until their own passing (at least this was what I've read in my admittedly surface level research). To me this means two things, 1) once Fellow sets his eyes on a darling that's absolutely it for him regardless of how he has to get them by his side it is an inevitability so if they would just be a good dear and surrender early on everything could be so much better, and 2) should anything unfortunate befall to his darling he wouldn't ever fall for anyone else and likely never fully recover emotionally.

Tldr; The fox man would woo his darling with his surely illustrious (at least to him) voice and his cologne or perhaps natural pheromones, and once he woos them Fellow would never so much as look at another in the same light.

Don't apologize Anon!! I love it when people send in long asks about their hyperfixations!! It feels so endearing and sweet and makes me want to give you a big hug!! I'm literally the same when it comes to hyperfixate and overexplain, when I'm obsessed with something (TV show, movie, game, etc) I need to feel it in my veins!! Plus being able to chat about it with people on Tumblr is always one of the best parts!!

I can't stop laughing at the thought of Fellow sending his darling with loud obnoxious barking 🤣🤣 Bonus points if the reader is a regular human and just stares at him confused, while Leona, Ruggie, and Jack just nod in approval in the background (or in anger and disbelief, depends on the scenario). The idea of him sharing his cologne and jacket with Reader is actually really sweet. I like to think that some ways down the line if Fellow ever had to go away for an extended period of time. Reader would just cuddle into a corner hugging his jacket and spraying some of his cologne on herself. He'd be so delighted coming home and smelling his scent so strongly on his beloved.

I love this!! Just Fellow knowing that reader is the one from the first look 😍😍😍😍 He's so smitten and lays on the charm extra thick. Wanting them all so badly and doing anything to get them. If Reader should die (Lord forbid) Fellow definitely wouldn't get another partner BUT he'd also go the extra mile and try to resurrect them. Magic exists in Twisted Wonderland so I'm sure someone out there has the ability to raise the dead. He'd do absolutely anything to hold you in his arms again.

Look Reader is getting a really sweet deal here. A tall handsome man (+ bonus he comes with A SUPER FLUFFY TAIL AND EARS) with a smooth voice, and a charming personality. Willing to give her anything, do anything for her, and make sure she had the best life imaginable. He's physically incapable of cheating and would fawn over the reader like a lovestruck puppy. He's literally just perfect!! Ignoring the manipulative tendencies, obsessive behavior, and ability to maim someone with his teeth😊😊

[bixels]

If it's not too much trouble would you mind sharing more on your thoughts about AJ? Esp the line she shouted at Rarity and her "struggle with sexual identity" I'm kind of new so I would like to hear more! Does Rarity also struggle with sexual identity and fearing AJ would leave? I love the family oriented person A and the business inclined and impressed by shiny new things person B trope

Ok, this is gonna get into head canons and personal opinions.

The writing in Rollercoaster of Friendship (and EQG as a whole) is much simpler and more stripped down in comparison to FiM (most likely to appeal to a younger audience; don't want to seem like I'm dissing the writers), but that one confrontation made me sit up in my seat because it carries the entire special.

More under the cut cuz I don't want MLP analyses clogging up my blog.

For one, we've seen AJ get frustrated and angry about the same exact conflict over a girl in FiM (Rara), establishing a pattern. And even though she's right (her friend really is being manipulated), I read both cases as her acting out in jealousy too. Here's this girl who she's felt a unique attachment to being "taken away" and changed by someone new. This is most apparent in RoF; the moment Vignette introduces herself, kisses Rarity on both cheeks, and establishes herself as Rarity's "new best friend," AJ immediately reacts with shock, betrayal, and boldfaced jealousy (made even worse when Rarity forgets her during introductions). Although AJ acts independent, she's actually very emotionally dependent on certain people in her life.

If we come into this with the assumption that AJ has romantic feelings for Rarity –– which is a normal assumption given the director/writer confirmed the special was written as a romantic drama between the two –– AJ's line is all the more heartbreaking. If I may slip into fictional speculation: your crush is no longer listening or paying attention to you, even though you know something is wrong and that she's getting hurt. Your frustration at her lack of awareness is really your anger at her lack of care –– she doesn't care about you anymore. So in a fit of rage, in your big, dramatic confrontation, just to make her look at you, react at you, feel how she's been making you feel all day –– unwanted and unspecial –– you hurt her back. AJ yells, "You're not special!" and Rarity cries.

And what really gets me is that AJ lies. In this moment, she lies that Rarity's not special when (again, assumption of romance) she's the most special person in the world to her. So special that she's placed all her feelings of self-assurance and security on their relationship. So special that the moment their relationship is shaken and she doesn't know to recover it –– recover herself –– she lashes out, acts against her character, and says something dishonest just to hurt the girl she loves.

(Honestly, rewatching this special, AJ is so insecure and attention-needy. The way she pouts and slouches and lags behind the group and says, "Never mind. It's nothing," when asked what's wrong is textbook "please pay attention to me and ask me what's wrong because i need a reason to be honest about feelings i know i should be ashamed of" behavior.)

I think AJ's insecurities (which could be tied to her lack of experience with romantic relationships) reveal how she has a tendency to misattribute and redirect anger onto the person she cares most about (see Simple Ways as well, where she's caught on the opposite end of a jealousy spat). This could easily become a very toxic trait, but AJ grows past it. Near the end of RoF, the two come together and apologize. AJ recognizes her entitlement and confesses her insecurities about their relationship. She felt hurt and attacked when her status as Rarity's best friend/girlfriend was threatened because it's a role she uses to self-identify –– if Rarity isn't hers, she loses part of her identity. And she admits that she thought her motivation was to protect Rarity, but really she was just being selfish and protecting herself. Rarity was busy and stressed and needed someone to lean on just as much AJ needed her. She isn't AJ's emotional support girlfriend, and it wasn't right to expect her to be one.

(Which is why Rarijack is peak because throughout both series, they repeatedly show just how important honesty, open communication, and trust is in maintaining, supporting, and growing a romantic relationship.)

[ideas-ideasideasideas]

JayTim omegaverse AU where Tim presents as an omega when he’s stalking Batman and Jason-as-Robin. Jason finds him collapsed on a rooftop and tries to help him but the proximity triggers his own presentation as an alpha. From there things go to hell in a hand basket and they ride out their first heat/rut together. In the immediate aftermath, once they have both recovered enough presence of mind, they agree that this is no one’s fault but it doesn’t stop Jason from feeling guilty about taking advantage of Tim so he escorts Tim home (in the process finding out they’re neighbours) and asks if there’s anything that he can do for him to make up for whatever the hell just happened.

There’s a lot of trauma to unpack here for the both of them but Tim is barely a teenager and Jason has emotionally repressed Batman for a parental figure so they just mutually decide not to mention it ever again because if you pretend it never happened then it can’t hurt you right? (Wrong.) Anyway, Tim tells Jason that if he really wants to do something for him then maybe he can just not tell Batman that Tim was on a rooftop at night, pretty please? At which point Jason, horrified that a boy Tim’s age is running around on rooftops unsupervised in the most crime-ridden parts of Gotham at the most crime-infested time of the day, makes it his personal duty to figure out why Tim does this and also how he can convince him to NOT do this. What he did to Tim was wrong on so many levels but oh god, what if someone so much worse found Tim instead? He agrees to Tim’s request on the condition that Tim carries a beacon at all times during his nighttime extracurricular activities.

Jason brings the beacon over as soon as possible, which turns out to be the next day after school (as Robin of course), and the sight of Tim alone in a giant house compels him to stay for a while, and a while turns into the rest of the day. Tim shows off the photos he’s taken of Batman and the Robins, and Jason is reluctantly but appropriately impressed by Tim’s stealth.

A friendship grows between them.

And then Jason dies.

And Batman grows too reckless.

And Dick refuses to be Robin again.

And Tim becomes Robin—

Except he doesn’t. Not really. He wears Jason’s Robin suit for a very short time before random bouts of nausea take him off the field. But Batman is still beating the shit out of petty criminals and Tim is desperate to help, so he allows Alfred (bless him) to call him a discreet doctor to ensure that his illness is not due to anything he was exposed to while Batman-wrangling before he’s allowed back on the field. Tim just wants it over and done with quickly so he can get back out there and—

He’s not allowed to back on the field.

He’s holding a little black-and-white picture of a literal human growing inside him and he is absolutely benched until there is no longer a literal human growing inside him.

Doctor Thompkins lays out his options, is brutally honest about how his body (too young, too small) will handle a pregnancy (not well), and asks if there is anything he wants to tell her (if there’s anyone Batman needs to put in jail for touching him). Tim doesn’t have long to consider his options—he’s nearly too far along for most clinics to be comfortable performing an abortion (although, given his age, they might be sympathetic enough to bend the rules if Doctor Thompkins can’t perform the procedure for him).

He decides to keep it, a parting gift from his friend Robin to be cherished beyond his death. There is a difficult conversation with Bruce about the child’s father (no, you can’t arrest them, they’re already dead, no, I’m not defending a heinous rapist, it’s your goddamn son, Bruce, this is your grandchild). An unforeseen but extremely welcome consequence of this is that Batman starts pulling his punches, now that he has something to live for again. He looks only half-broken now and he offers Tim a room at the Wayne manor when he finally learns about Tim’s extremely absent parents.

(Tim worries about how to break the news to his parents until he no longer has to worry about it because his mother is dead and his father is in a coma and god he wanted to avoid having that conversation with them but this wasn’t how he wanted it to happen.)

Properly benched now for the foreseeable future, Tim picks up remote vigilante-wrangling instead (from Babs?) and makes headway in some cold cases. He pulls out of school to be homeschooled instead, keeps out of the public eye, and generally avoids leaving Wayne manor because a thirteen-year-old pregnant omega living alone with an adult alpha (and his butler) is a Very Bad Look even for Brucie Wayne and Tim would rather not be known as Bruce Wayne’s child bride thank you very much.

Life proceeds in this manner, the child is delivered by Caesarian with very little fanfare. It is, unfortunately, very difficult to hide the presence of a whole infant. The public settles on the theory that the child is Bruce’s illegitimate son from one of his many dalliances and Tim allows the misconception to propagate simply because no good can come out of him, all of fourteen, publicly claiming his child. But it still stings, just a little. He made this child, held him safe in his womb for eight months. He puts him to bed and nurses him and loves him so much but nobody outside the manor will see it.

Tim bursts back into society when he’s officially adopted by Bruce. He refused to register his son as Bruce’s (it takes some extremely deft work by Oracle to file the appropriate documents for Tim’s claim on his child to be legally valid without alerting the press) but he also understands that Bruce wants a legal connection to his grandchild, so he becomes his son’s dead father’s legally adopted brother. It’s a mess, but at least people who should be are allowed into hospital rooms. It’s not like it will matter, right? Jason’s dead, right?

Wrong.

Jason is very much not dead and very much bewildered by the presence of a baby Wayne that isn’t Damian and it completely derails his plans to exact revenge on Bruce for not killing the Joker. It fucking hurts to see that he’s been replaced by not one but TWO new children but at least they aren’t Robin. At least no one is Robin. At least one of them is Tim, his lonely friend who deserves a family. He returns to Gotham, heads to Crime Alley, becomes Red Hood, and buries himself in shooting out enough kneecaps to push Bruce and Batman from his mind. That was another life. He’s fucking furious at Bruce and his replacements but god the baby has the same curly hair that Jason did and Jason can’t help but think that Bruce might actually have missed him, at least a little.

But probably not enough to love Jason as he is now, full of anger and rage and impulse to hurt hurt hurt the people who hurt others. He channels it all into cleaning up the Alley, perhaps more aggressively than Batman would (should) have, but Batman doesn’t give enough of a shit about the Alley to know that what he’s doing isn’t enough and it’s up to Jason to get his hands downright filthy if he wants to make any changes around here.

Tim notices Red Hood, because of course he does. And it takes him no time at all to realise, oh, that’s Jason. That’s Jason.

[nullbutler]

because it's impossible to truly get into the depths of a very hyper specific situation, here's a checklist of 'am I being groomed' [specifically for ONLINE SPACES]

keep in mind that grooming, in this sense, could not be seen as inherently rigged for sexual exploitation. there are a lot of different examples. this also works as a checklist of the intrusive worry of 'am I accidentally grooming someone.' as long as you aren't doing any of that, there's no reason you'd think you would be a groomer. this isn't even age specific. it can happen to anyone at any time if they are susceptible.

none of these specifically mean anything, but together/if added together, they should be cause for alarm

any victim of this sort of behavior should know: it's not your fault, you can always recover, you deserve better friends, you deserve to be happy, you don't deserve to be isolated

I honest to god felt the same way about a year ago. And, now, while I'm still coming to terms with it, I have never been more happy and sure of myself now that I'm out of the situation. and I want the same for you, genuinely. it's isolating and bizarre.

and here: the checklist

are they showing you pornography or explicit content that makes you uncomfortable?

are they encouraging you to seek out specific pornography?

is that pornography in a moral sense illegal?

are they encouraging you to do illegal things or things that might put you in danger?

do you wonder if they ever actually care about you?

do they only talk to you when you're emotionally vulnerable?

do you feel like you need to act outside of how you'd typically act to please them?

do you feel like you need to expose yourself to things you wouldn't normally want to to please them?

do you feel isolated from people outside of the opinions they hold?

do you feel like 'if everyone knew who I really was, they'd hate me?"

do you feel like you're secretly a bad person

do you feel like you can't hold any moral stance on issues because your morals are too far gone?

do you feel like you can defend heinous actions because you (and specifically this other person) are just as guilty your selves

are they telling you that they're the only person/group of people who can 'fix' an issue you have?

are they telling you that looking at upsetting and triggering material is the only way to fix yourself?

are they making you feel as though you don't have a choice about something about yourself?

are they telling you to disregard belief systems that are in place to keep you safe?

are they desensitizing you to things (showing you something bad, showing you something bad, showing you something worse; you don't perceive it as worse)

do you feel like their values are more important than your own morals?

do you feel like you're beyond saving because of what they've told you?

The best course of action to this kind of thing isn't even legal based because that's impossible to determine/prove; it's : please leave. please find somewhere safe to go.

[blushweddinggowns]

Damn Your Love, Damn Your Lies has been updated! A snippet is below~

~

Eddie was…an idiot. A moron, a fool, maybe even a simpleton. He was always self-aware enough to know that he had a habit of making terrible choices. But he thought that he had gotten better about it. That’s how it was supposed to work right? He had the shitty childhood, the rise and fall of fame, experienced drug-fueled self-destruction, got sober, got his career and life back on track. All of that should have meant that he was a more emotionally mature person. An adult who was capable of creating long-lasting relationships built on trust.

Clearly, he had underestimated just how inept at life he really was. Because somehow, against all odds, he finally found someone he wanted to be with. Someone who didn’t care about his fame or his money, someone who wanted to be around him just because Eddie was who he was. Not to mention someone who was…so beautiful. Inside and out. Someone who deserved so much better than Eddie Munson. He had actually managed to find someone who felt perfect for him. And he had already fucked everything up. Ruined it before it could even start. Because Eddie was having a very, very hard time trying to figure out ways to recover from his own bullshit.

He thought about it all the time, finally coming clean and accepting the consequences of his own lies. He’d thought about sitting Steve down for it, making it a big open and honest conversation about his feelings and fears or whatever the fuck. Or he could just casually put it out there. Maybe if he just acted like it was no big deal then he could magically convince Steve of the same.

Hey babe? Do you remember how I said I live in the city and do tattoos for a living? Well, actually, I don’t live here. Or even in this state. And I’m one of those rich and famous psychos you hate. I just started renting this place because I met you and proceeded to become obsessed after our first date. Just wanted to let you know. You want to get some ice cream or something?

Or…maybe not.

Eddie knew what the right thing to do was. But Eddie didn’t get to where he was today by being an altruistic and self-sacrificing person. He had no intentions of giving what they had up. Not yet. Not when he had never felt like this before. As ironic as it was, lying about his identity made Eddie feel more like himself than he had in years. When he was with Steve he was just… Eddie. No performances, no personas. He wasn’t worrying about his image or saying the wrong thing. He just got to be him. Or as much of him as he could be while hiding major facets of his life.

This whole thing was such a mess. His first plan of a one night-stand immediately fell to shit. Then his genius second one of just waiting for things to fizzle away turned out to be just as fucking stupid. So now here he was, desperately trying to think of what to do next.

He knew that he was a coward for keeping the whole charade going. He was a bad person for it. He knew that. But he also knew that he loved waking up next to Steve in the mornings. He loved making them both coffee and watching him do his hair, always ready to reassure him that yes, sweetheart. It looks fine in the back.

He knew that Steve’s smile was enough to make his day, that a single phone call from him could set Eddie off into a sickeningly sweet mood for hours.He knew that he loved making him laugh, that he was willing to do a variety of embarrassing things just to hear that bright sound. He knew that he loved fighting with him over music in the car, and every other mundane thing about life that Steve managed to suddenly make interesting. 

But most of all, he knew that he didn’t want any of it to end. Ever. Not if he could help it. All Eddie wanted was to take care of Steve. To make him happy, to be the man that Steve thought Eddie was. And the very thought of losing all of that was enough to make his eyes water. 

So now here he was. On to plan three. Pray to the gods above that Steve would fall for him just as hard as he was. Or at least enough for him to stay around when Eddie finally came clean. Eddie… wanted Steve to need him. In the same way that Eddie felt like he needed Steve. He wanted him to not be able to imagine his life without him, for it to get bad enough for his lies to seem insignificant in the face of their connection. If Eddie could manage that, then he would tell him. 

He just needed some reassurance. Some kind of guarantee that this wouldn’t all end in fire and brimstone when he finally opened his mouth. Which, again, was very, very stupid. But Eddie was a stupid, delusional, lovesick man these days. It fits. 

[infinitelycynical]

i really liked your aizamatsu headcanons they were so cute,,,, what are your headcanons about them post kira??

i'm glad you enjoyed, and i am so willing to talk about them post-kira!

i'll split this into two parts, them the first couple of years post-kira, and then the far future post-kira.

TW for severe depression, mental health issues, mentions of suicide (no one attempts or commits)

2010:

out of the four task force members still alive, matsuda was the most impacted. he becomes very depressed post-kira: struggling to get out of bed, to eat or drink, basic hygiene, not to mention the nightmares. before the post-kira era, matsuda had been doing the emotional labour of the relationship because he was more emotionally inclined and less impacted by toxic masculinity in that way (tough conversations, expressing discomfort, etc).

post-kira, however, aizawa had to take on this role because matsuda wasn't in a position to. he has to be the comforter and the motivator and the optimist, which is a very tough position for him.

with soichiro dead and the case basically isolating them from outside interaction, they only really have each other. they become a lot closer than before, it's them vs. the world

at light's funeral, matsuda hid his head in aizawa's shoulder through the entire ceremony because he couldn't bring himself to look at the coffin.

biiiit NSFW but before post-kira era, these two had an active sex life, like the romantic chemistry was slow but the sexual chemistry was off the charts. that all stops post-kira. it never entirely recovers as they get older

aizawa starts buying flowers for the apartment and baskets of fruit, listening to the songs that used to be matsuda's favourites (even though he hates them personally); he thinks he's doing this to brighten the place up a little, doesn't realise he's actually mourning his boyfriend

whenever ide or mogi ask aizawa "are you okay?" aizawa forms a habit of replying something like "it's a good day, touta went for a walk with me" or "it's a bad day, touta hasn't left his bed" rather than talking about himself. kind of neglected his emotional needs for a while there. both enter therapy to say the least.

matsuda voices aloud suicidal thoughts to aizawa one day, and scares him so badly that he willingly goes into therapy a week later so aizawa is never that upset again.

at this time, ide and mogi both know they're dating but no one else does. light knew from the time aizawa was at the hospital after the explosion, but soichiro didn't (he died before he ever found out). the chief never being told is one of matsuda's biggest regrets.

aizawa calls matsuda "sunshine", before post-kira it was a reference to matsuda's sunny personality but post-kira it's like holding onto hope that things will be okay at some point, a link to a brighter past.

aizawa cooks the meals, drags matsuda out of bed, gets him back into contact with the yagamis, everything. having someone else to take care of distracts him from his own frustrations and own troubles, so he throws himself into it with gusto

when matsuda wakes from a nightmare, aizawa has to hold his hands to remind him that he isn't holding a gun.

on his bad days, matsuda begs aizawa to leave him because he thinks he deserves it, aizawa refuses vehemently.

2011 onwards (it gets happier from here I promise):

for a while, they do both couple's counselling and individual. the couple's counselling is mostly to get help with making their relationship more balanced, because the relationship labor so to speak went from being overwhelmingly matsuda to overwhelmingly aizawa and that's not healthy at all

they get a dog! it's one of those quiet, big, cuddly dogs and both of them adore her.

regarding yumi: as part of the divorce arrangement, aizawa got phone calls with her but didn't really get to visit (busy life and how divorce works in japan, partial custody not a thing). they're really really close and have an honest relationship with each other. yumi meets matsuda over the phone in 2013 maybe (yumi is around 15 at this time) and they hit it off very quickly. aizawa does not elaborate on how long they had been dating for (five years) until much, much later.

aizawa's family (parents, sisters, etc) adore matsuda from the first meeting. it takes matsuda's family a while to warm up to aizawa.

if matsuda is having a sad day, aizawa buys him some sunflowers to cheer him up. he's a actions sort of guy.

both love chocolate and chocolate chip cookies (even though aizawa is not a sweet tooth), so they have plenty of it in stock

matsuda hacks into aizawa's phone to change his ringtones to songs that would annoy him frequently, aizawa never changes his password for whatever reason

lots of forehead kisses, in fact, just a lot of kisses. after the shitstorm of 2010, aizawa has learned not to take his boyfriend's affectionate nature for granted.

these are all the ones i could come up with for now, because i had some then completely forgot them the moment i wrote this post, but i am a limitless bucket of headcanons at this point. thank you so much for the ask!

[rvllybllply2014]

Hi! Oh please don't worry over how long this took, I'm sorry our replies have gotten so long that it could stretch out like this ;w; I've started a new job btw so I'm afraid I really won't have as much free time to write such long replies as much, so I'm cutting this one a bit short, I hope that's okay! :(

I have to agree we never know what someone is going through or how their feeling, so a proper warning is always for the best! Still very sweet & thoughtful of you :')

Heh now that I think about it, the Brackens might be the only house to consider "dumber than a horse" as an insult to horses! If anyone would know just how smart horses are, it would be them! They could call Blackwood horses dumb though, just because of the Blackwood influence the poor horses have had to suffer XD

Lord & lady Tully are such a cute pair~ I love how he matches her feisty nature perfectly, and insisting she become a strong swimmer too! x3 Aw and I love how realistic their argument feels? Of course they would both react this way! They both have good points & both apologizing later sets the stage for a good marriage between them uwu

Lil bitty Samwell learning from both his grandparents & playing with his cousins is just too precious~ And I love lady Tully calling lord Blackwood out on his poor parenting & the emotional distance he puts between himself & his sons! I kind of wonder how he's react if after a bit too much wine he'd end up leaning against lady Tully, who instead of pushing him away, would hold him & stroke his hair as if he were her own son? Like she does for her daughter & grandsons? With lord Blackwood unknowingly seeking a mother's touch. Only to remember the next morning how lady Tully had held & soothed him like a child?

She's such a good grandmother to Samwell & Willem, and I understand lord Blackwood's insistence on her praying to the old gods, & she's too stubborn to be honest to him about her reason to refuse. Though I do wonder if he would have understood her concerns? Oof that argument is so hard to read, I understand lord Blackwood's hurt, anger, & loss but lying to his sons and burning the letters, not even storing them away..that just horrible D= Poor lady Tully & Samwell, knowing his father hid letters from their grandmother had to hit him terribly, and to have Willen parrot their father's teachings too! At least their Tully cousins questioned them at least!

Amos practicing flattery in front of his mirror is too cute! Along with Raylon's light teasing x3 Aw and speaking of Ser Raylon Rivers, can you imagine a secret relationship between him & Samwell in the background?

Neither of them wishing to burden their brothers with it, and feeling as though they especially can't mention it after their brother's brake up? :< And Willem keeping his blade on him while trying to distance himself from it emotionally is such a good contrast to Amos locking his blade away but keeping the key to it literally next to his heart, never truly parting from it emotionally..

Davos being the one to stake Aeron through the neck, oh my poor babies :'( Imagine if Aeron had lived but still is injured, with Davos fleeing with him and both waiting out the war while Aeron recovers, until they hear of the Blackwood attack on Bracken lands? 

Ooh I love how you wrote Willem finding the blade, how Amos never truly broke the chain connecting him to Willem.. And how the rape doesn't happen right away or all at once, how it gradually builds, and how Willem deludes himself into thinking Amos wants it. That despite his desire to punish him, he doesn't wish to see himself as Amos's rapist.. That threat to have Raylon taken before both houses, that he's already "broken in" is harsh..i totally understand Amos's fury!

Aw having Benjicot sent to Riverrun is a smart idea, though I also like the idea of him coming to Harrenhall to lead the Blackwoods, and while Oscar is tense at first, he soon sees just how much like Samwell Benjicot is? Saying he understands Oscar did what he has to and doing what he can to keep his own house in line? I could see Amos meeting him & seeing so much of Samwell in him ;w;

1A) Heh poor Aeron! I feel like the spanking he gets from Davos would be less sexual and more so an actual punishment, like for when he's genuinely unfair & rude to Davos, or does something stupid & knightly, risking his life for others, Davos wouldn't let that go without making riding too painful for his Bracken for a while, I mean what better punishment is there for his Bracken than that? I imagine he'd rarely need to use anything but his hand (which he prefers, he likes how much more intimate it feels) but occasionally, if he feels it's really needed to teach a lesson, he'll use the thin leather reins from he cut from Aeron's own horse.  He can't bring himself to use a belt but that's fine, the reins are painful enough!  

1B) Ooh I saw you wrote something for  this idea, so I'll comment on it tomorrow~ I did think up another idea involving spanking though. Now this would be a purley parental spanking, but imagine before the battle of the burning mill ever takes place, Raylon Bracken would come to blows with a group of young Blackwood men and get overpowered, being brought back to Raventree Hall by them so he can be ransomed back to his lord father. He's not treated terribly, locked away in a room instead of a cell, but of course that doesn't make him any less angry! And when Willem comes to check on him himself, Raylon in his anger continues mouthing off to Willem despite his warning... And after stomping his foot and throwing something at Willem in anger, Raylon would soon find himself lying over Willem's knees, told if he was going to have a tantrum like a little child, he may as well be punished like one..

Ah sorry this reply was so much shorter than others, there's plenty I didn't comment on, but you summed up all we've discussed perfectly~ Thank you so much for discussing all these ideas with me <3 I'm all ears to hear any you have as well! =)

Congratulations on the new job. And also no worries about reply length or anything like that.

Lord and lady Tully are definitely based on my best friend’s parents.

Also think I hit all your ideas I’m sure, so sorry if I didn’t.

And now I’m definitely thinking about Samwell and Raylon Rivers. They have been added to the list.

Just non descriptive mentions of rape, look at previous ask for the more descriptive parts of the rape and trauma.

Definitely older brackenwood with some davron once again.

Lord Tully insisted that since he had to learn how to ride like a Bracken then his wife needs to learn to swim like a Tully. Yeah the fights are just them not seeing eye to eye and just needing some time to let cooler heads prevail. Once that happens they’ll apologize because they know they both had valid points. They’re also trying to raise their daughter to be level headed.

Lord Tully once asked lady Tully why she felt bad for the Blackwood horses, when they had a tourney in honor of their daughters first name day. She explained that Blackwood horses had to deal with the dumb Blackwoods, that those horses are smarter than their owners. So of course she’s going to feel bad for them. Lord Tully just shakes his head, he just goes along with it.

The one and only time both lady Tully and lord Blackwood allow themselves to seek some form of comfort in each other is in the months leading up to lady Blackwoods death. Lady Tully had just gotten Samwell settled in for the night again, and Willem was already in his bed sound asleep. Both lady Tully and lord Blackwood had too much wine, they’re both six glasses deep when lord Blackwood starts to tear up.

Normally lady Tully would just walk away, while muttering a Blackwood can just be miserable by himself, no need to drag everyone else’s mood down, it’s already sad enough in her daughter’s room. But since she’s already tipsy and already mourning her daughter she figures that lord Blackwood is also mourning his wife. So she does the only thing that she can think to do which is move to the couch, in her daughter’s room and pat the seat next to her.

Lord Blackwood at first thinks that lady Tully is making fun of him, acting like he’s a small child like Samwell or Willem. It’s only when she says that she’s here to offer comfort, as his mother in law and a fellow mourner die he finally sit next to her. She’s the one to lean into lord Blackwoods space while pulling his head towards her shoulder. It’s only after lord Blackwood has settled down on her shoulder, does she start to pet his hair while telling him that it’s okay to already mourn someone that is alive. That although he’s a Blackwood, she’s here for him and her grandsons. She just lets him know that it’s okay to let his emotions out.

He accepts the comfort until Samwell comes in from the nursery telling them that Willem is awake and crying. Lord Blackwood starts to get up until lady Tully tells him she’ll take care of Samwell and Willem, he needs to spend time with his wife. And with that she gives lord Blackwood a kiss on his temple, and grabs Samwell’s hand telling him that they’re going to go take care of Willem.

Willem just had a bad dream, which was an easy enough fix. But Samwell wouldn’t settle down again, he was too worried about his mother and father. He’d never seen his father show any emotion. So lady Tully decides to bring Samwell and Willem into their mother’s room. It’s just a short walk back to the rooms, and when they arrive lord Blackwood questions if everything’s alright?

Lady Tully tells him that his sons need their parents, she also orders lord Blackwood out of the chair that he sitting in so she can sit there. Lord Blackwood starts to protest but she tells him to get in the bed, but to leave space between him and wife so the boys can sleep between them. She’ll tell them bed time stories until they all fall asleep. Once they’re asleep she quietly leaves the room.

It isn’t until the next day that lord Blackwood realizes that he allowed himself to be treated like a child by lady Tully. He’s a little disappointed in himself but he also realizes deep down that he needed someone to take care of him, to validate his feelings while also still being an adult. Surprisingly it’s not lady Tully or Samwell who brings up the night before, it’s Willem that does. He thinks it’s just a strange dream, that he had a nightmare and then his father brought him and his brother to their mother for comfort. It’s Samwell who tells him it wasn’t a dream.

It’s when the boys are at their lessons, that lord Blackwood decides to confront lady Tully about last night. She tells him although he’s just a Blackwood and was never deserving enough for her daughter she can see how much he loves lady Blackwood; he also gave her, her adorable grandsons. Also it’s okay to feel fear and grief for the future, they’re both about to loose someone important but they’ll always be related through the kids.

The funeral happens, the fight also happens, lady Tully keeps her promise to write but lord Blackwood burns them and years pass without Samwell and Willem seeing their grandmother until lord Tully writes to tell them that she’s sick and dying. And how much she’d love to see them one last time. They’re too late, but they do stay for the funeral and do find out about how she really had kept her promise to write. Samwell believes his cousins and concludes that lord Blackwood must’ve burnt them. Willem already so close to his father in appearance and attitude decides that although these are his Tully cousins, they’re obviously lying a Bracken never keeps a promise.

After the funeral Samwell resumes his duties of watching the boundary stones, where he meets little Amos and his half brother Raylon. Raylon was sent to check up on Amos, to make sure that he wasn’t starting a fight with the Blackwoods. So he was absolutely shocked when he saw Amos and Samwell talking. Raylon doesn’t approach them just yet, he wants to see how the little interaction plays out.

It’s only when Amos sees Raylon, does he decide to approach them. Raylon tells Amos it’s time to go back to Stone Hedge, and sends him on his way. Raylon stays back long enough to thank Samwell for being so kind to his brother, he likes to act like a big boy but he’s still just a ten year old child. Samwell says it’s no issue Amos reminds him so much of his younger brother, who’s just come back from the court. Raylon doesn’t ask any questions especially when Amos comes back to ask if he’s ready? Raylon tells to go ahead he’ll catch up he needs to finish this conversation.

Once Amos had left again Raylon asks Samwell his name, and if he can send ravens to him. Samwell agrees he sees Raylon as a friend and also a connection to his grandmother that he just lost. It’s only a few weeks before Samwell and Raylon realize that they might actually like each other, more than just in a friend way. Samwell is actually the first one to broach the subject of how there might be more than friendship between them, if Raylon would allow it? Raylon is surprised but doesn’t disagree, so as their brothers fall into love with each other Raylon and Samwell also fall into love.

Raylon sends raven on Samwells eighteenth name telling him that they need to meet that night. Samwell is sorrow by he doesn’t need to be Raylon just wanted to give him his present in person. Raylon had stolen the idea of gifting his lover a blade from his brother. He’d had the blacksmith make him a dagger with a ravens head as the handle and had a horse etched into the actual blade. That way he’d always be near to protect him. Samwell is touched by the gift and vows to get Raylon something just as special for his name day.

So when it’s Raylons name day Samwell gifts him a blade with a horse head as the handle and a raven etched into the actual blade. But unlike their brothers they continue to send ravens even after they too eventually brake up. Also both men keep their blades on them. They tell themselves it’s to keep tabs on how each house is feeling towards the other, Raylon wants to be able to advise Amos to the best of his abilities. But they also send updates about their personal lives. They each write to the other that they hope their sons can be good friends just like they were. Raylon also congratulates Samwell when he’s married and has his heir Ben.

The letters only stop after Raylon was killed in a freak riding accident, he’d been thrown from his spooked horse and trampled. The very last letter Samwell writes to Raylon is how much he loves him and he’s sorry that everything happened the way it did. He also asks how could Raylon leave him so easily and early? They both still had so much life left, but now it’s just him but he’ll do his best to live for him. He burns the letter hoping that his words will reach Raylon.

Several more years pass and Samwell gets a mysterious illness that takes him before Ben is old enough to run Raven tree hall. Willem takes over as regent and plots his revenge against Amos. According to Willem it was Amos who walked away from him and their future along with his heart, just like Amos’s ancestors walked away from the old gods. He imagined the old gods felt the same type of pain and anger he feels.

So as soon as the dance happens and he hears from Davos that the Brackens have declared for Aegon, he uses it as an excuse to attack the Brackens. He’ll finally have his opportunity to show that he’s never forgiven or forgotten Amos’s betrayal.

Willem is disappointed with Davos when he finds out that he had the chance to kill a Bracken but doesn’t. He orders the Bracken that he spared to be sent to the dungeons and left to rot. Since Davos couldn’t kill him, he’ll keep him alive but barely. He orders that Davos is not allowed down there, he can’t be trusted around that Bracken. Instead Davos is ordered to watch Amos’s son Raylon.

He wants Davos to watch a Bracken get taken multiple times while also knowing that if he misbehaves then his Bracken will also suffer that fate. Davos and Raylon still get friendly, Davos also stops his uncles men from raping Raylon on his birthday. Davos manages to tell Raylon that Aeron is still alive. Raylon is equal parts relieved and horrified. He hopes that he’s not suffering the same fate as him, Davos tells him that he isn’t sure it’s been almost a month since they last saw each other.

Willem is also delusional enough to believe that every cry from Amos is a cry of pleasure. That his begging is a way of calling back to their relationship, and how he’d always cry and plead for Willem to not stop. It’s obvious that Amos wants it even if he doesn’t explicitly ask for it. He’s just trying to play hard to get, especially when it’s in the camp on the way to Harrenhal.

Davos is forced to guard Raylon while on the move to Harrenhal, he tries to get to Aeron but he’s too well guarded. The only time Davos is allowed to see Aeron is at Harrenhal when his uncle Willem is beheaded for what he did in the river lands.

Oscar still orders Raylon and Davos back to Stone Hedge, Davos is still a hostage. Aeron is ordered to stay at Harrenhal, he’s needed to help fight, Davos and Aeron can see each other after the war.

Oscar also sends a raven to Raven tree hall demanding that Ben comes to Harrenhal. He needs Ben not to fight but to show his support towards him. Once Ben arrives at Harrenhal, he tells Oscar that he understands that he did what he needed to do, especially to secure the loyalty of all the other houses. Ben shows nothing but respect towards Oscar, which in turn causes the Blackwoods to show only respect towards him.

The first meeting between Amos and Ben, Amos almost feels like a small child again. Ben reminds Amos so much of Samwell, how he listens and weighs his words/actions before he does anything. Amos knows that house Blackwood will be in capable hands once Ben is old enough to take responsibility. Amos might also hug Ben, offering comfort to him; he’s sorry for his loss of uncle and for his father years earlier.

1A): Davos is more of a punisher when it comes to spanking Aeron. Every time Aeron back talks, trying to prove to Davos that he’s capable of being a knight, it’s over his knee until his ass is red. Davos only uses the reins when Aeron falls off his horse. Aeron was trying to show off to his friends and managed to fall, and ended up scarring Davos half to death he didn’t move for almost a whole minute and he couldn’t cross over to Bracken lands to check on him. Davos tells him this spanking is for his own good, it should teach him not to show off.

2): Raylon knows that he’s being an irrational brat, especially in front of Willem but he’s pissed. It was a stupid mistake on his part, he’d followed his horse into Blackwood lands and ran right into Willem. As soon as Willem realized who had ran into him, he knew he’d get a huge ransom from Amos.

But first Willem needed to get Raylon to stop snorting and stomping his foot and the only way he knows how to is bend him over his knee and spank him. He makes Raylon count to ten, and then evaluates Raylons attitude. If Raylon is still throwing a temper tantrum, then it’s ten more smacks. It will continue until Raylon has learned his lesson.

[nooblord9001]

So something weird happened today.

So I'm pretty sure I've at some point mentioned that I used to be in a Sylvanas Discord server Lily used to run; how it went defunct because one of the regulars there decided to Start Shit against Lily and quickly escalated into a full-blown Lily Orchard Stalker, but I had to be banned from the server (due to an unrelated incident caused by me being overzealous in a way that crossed a line into borderline-racism) in early summer of 2021, prior to the drama that shut it down.

When I was first banned, I was utterly distraught by this-- and it wasn't helped by the fact that I knew even at the time that I was (at least mostly) the one at fault --but I was able to emotionally and socially recover thanks to a brother I'd gotten in contact with during the start of the pandemic inviting me to a server he and his friends were on.

In the Sylvanas Loyalist Discord I was perhaps-too-comfortable with wearing my emotions and political leanings on my sleeve, which was at least partially what spurred my overzealous behavior; in this new server, however, the members were mostly dudes + my brother (with like, one black guy and myself as the token trans girl), so I wasn't as comfortable being my "Vocally Mouthy Trans Bitch" self at the time.

Turns out they were all actually quite decent (read: Liberal) folks, so for the next couple years, that server was pretty much my go-to social hangout spot. In the time since I joined, I think about three of the members there came out as trans, so that was really cool to see in real time.

If I'll be honest, though, I was always put off by the fact that the server admin would post "boomer facebook memes" in a way that reeked of "Schrodinger's Douchebag." Never got any worse than that, thankfully, but it was admittedly always fucking annoying whenever it happened. Most the time, I wouldn't say anything, but in recent weeks, I'd been a bit more vocal about Not Finding That Funny, and apparently today I was (apparently) silently and unceremoniously let go from the server due to the server runner finding my disapproval annoying.

If this had happened prior to... [checks notes] June 17th, I would've likely been pretty fucking miserable, as that would've been my main social circle I was getting kicked from. However, thanks to the fates taking pity on my brokeass earlier this month (which I was already really fucking grateful for), a new Discord social circle full of wonderful people was opened up to me prior to this occuring, so to say I'm relieved that I still have an easy friendship hub would be the understatement of all time.

[randomfoggytiger]

Mulder Would Never Let Scully Walk Away with Words Left Unsaid

I could never understand some fics/meta where Scully and Mulder dance around their feelings until Scully feels wounded, won't communicate, and splits their relationship with silence. And the problem doesn't have too much to do with Scully (aside from the fact that she faces hardship head on with shoulders squared, not backing down from personal problems.) The problem, really, rests with Mulder's characterization.

Mulder, with all his flaws and fixations, would have too much righteous fury to let Scully walk away with words unsaid.

Not in a bad way, either:

In Ice he spits out "I want to trust you." In Beyond the Sea, he yells "You could be dead right now!" In One Breath, he rails against Scully's coma, her family's decisions, the men that were getting away with her abduction and impending death. In Anasazi, he confronts Scully over her perceived treachery ("taking your LITTLE NOTES.") In Elegy, he snaps that Scully withheld information from him, implying that she owed him more because of their trust and partnership. In All Souls he admits his heightened fear that Scully was being emotionally manipulated by what Father Joseph(?) was saying. And pivotally in FTF he ran into the hallway when Scully was literally walking out of his life, pinning her on her misunderstandings and telling her how wrong she was by confessing his love in the most Mulder way possible. His intensity and fervor isn't threatening: it's raw, intense vulnerability-- with Scully, with informants, with his parents, with his boss, with his friends, with his enemies. This continues the rest of the series (Triangle, One Son, Milagro, Field Trip, En Ami, Closure, etc.)

The only time Mulder has ever let Scully leave something unsaid is because she was fragile in the face of another trauma, giving her space to recover before he probed the issue further: the almost rape in Genderbender, Scully's second kidnapping in Irresistible, her injury in Fresh Bones, her prison jump scare in The List, her bristle in Never Again, her avoidance in Memento Mori, most of her health scares in Elegy, her daughter's death in Emily, her Pfaster part two in Orison, etc. His deep care for her revolves on the axis of trust: he will let her recover, but he inevitably needs her to be transparent with him.

This is a core part of Mulder's character from day one: David Duchovny talked about how he portrayed Mulder as an intense, morose character, narrow-mindedly searching for the Truth to the detriment of everything. He often incorporated that fallen-from-a-pedestal quality in Mulder's reactions to Scully, making him disagreeable, taciturn, and more human. And Mulder made his intentions clear from the first time he met Scully, baldly telling her he knew she was a spy each and every step of the way until she earned his trust with her guileless, morally impeccable behavior.

Mulder is a man who sniffs something buried and digs and digs and digs at it until it's brought into the sunlight and exposed. He has always treated-- will always treat-- Scully the same; and she respects that about him, trying to answer as transparently as she can in the moment (mostly honest, yet not always vulnerable.) Whenever Scully has withdrawn, Mulder has pursued. (That's also why Scully was so confused in Three Words when Mulder was listless in the face of many unanswered personal questions-- his trauma festering until he is given an enemy to pursue. But that's a post for another time.)

This perception of Mulder not only tramples on MSR's delicate balance with their layers of communication but, more importantly, it portrays Mulder as someone who would let Scully go years without addressing THAT THING just because he wouldn't want to lose her. And while it's true that Mulder and Scully don't talk about THOSE THINGS openly, it's not because he's afraid (or she's afraid) he'll lose his partner: far from it, he's too certain she'll put up with all his nonsense and come along anyway (and all the shenanigans she's endorsed-- and will endorse-- prove him right.) In fact, Mulder's lesson was not to brush Scully aside and not to too easily abuse her sacrificial nature ("selfish and narcissistic", "mystery of the heart", "life on this planet".) He just didn't want to talk about THOSE THINGS yet; because he couldn't "settle down, ...approach something of a normal life" while Samantha was still unrecovered. But that's another story for another time~.

[pascaloverx]

Invisible Bonds: The Power of Destiny

Author's Note: This fanfic contains possible strong language and explores themes of unconventional love. The relationship between the protagonists will be handled with sensitivity, without explicit scenes. If there are explicit scenes, readers will be warned. This fanfic focuses on the reader's relationship with Jungkook and Taehyung, separately.

previous chapter next chapter

Chapter Ten

The pain of losing your soulmate is immeasurable and unfortunately you don't remove your feelings for your soulmate instantly. It means that when you spent the morning writhing in pain and screaming,you still wished Jungkook was okay. You wished he would give up before completing the process. Just wished...

"Are you sure you don't need help there?" Taehyung shouts outside your bathroom. You decided to take a shower to see if you could relax a little.

"How do you plan to help me? By shampooing my head?" He stayed by your side all the time as you dealt with the pain of separation. But asking him to help you with the shower was beyond your intentions.

"I see you've recovered well." He says looking a little upset, you then finish your shower and put on your clothes as quickly as possible. You need to clarify things. When you came out of the bathroom you found Taehyung leaving your apartment but you grabbed his arm and stopped him from leaving.

"I'm sorry if I'm being a little annoying. Maybe more than a little. I guess I'm just not used to someone taking care of me like that." You say almost in a whisper. Your eyes are penetrated at Taehyung. The way he fixes his hair when he's looking for something to say. Or how he sticks his tongue out of his mouth a little when he's about to say something. Details you are enjoying observing.

"I already took care of you before this soulmate shit came into our lives." He says, suspicious of what you're saying.

"Before it was different. You said you loved me, we kissed. Nothing is the same as before. I feel different now about you." Being honest is something necessary at this moment, especially because you are trying to understand your feelings.

"How different?" He asks, taking a step towards you, a bigger step than you expected. Now you're looking at each other.

"Different because now I feel like you want me. And I don't know how to react. I spent years loving you, silently enduring watching you fall in love with someone else. And now that I was moving on, you noticed me." Whether you like it or not, this is your reality.

"The next year after we met, we went to a Christmas party together and I told you that your hair looked weird when you had bangs. You threw a snowball at me and told me to take back what I said. Then I looked into your eyes and said..." And then the images of that party came to his head. It was the night you witnessed Taehyung kiss a girl for the first time. So you got really drunk. And some things you don't even remember about that damn night.

"Even though I'm weird, I love you. It was the first time you said that to me. I always thought it was because of the alcohol." That moment passed like a flashback in your eyes. He said he loved me after spending an hour exploring someone else's face.

"That was me, being honest. But you told me you could never allow yourself to return that love. Don't you remember?" His audacity almost makes you believe that you should have confessed your love that day.

"I remember spending an hour watching you show all this love by kissing someone else. Did you want me to throw myself into your arms and say "have me"?"

"I don't remember that. Yet you said it so truthfully. I thought you didn't think of me romantically." You saw the sincerity in his eyes. Not knowing what to do, you grabbed his face with two hands and pulled him towards you.

"You love me. And I certainly loved you. I don't know how this will end. But recently we become emotionally available." You bring his face closer to yours, placing a peck on his lips. And then another peck followed by one more.

"Which way is your room?" He speaks with his eyes closed, as their lips seek yours. You point to the right of the one at the end of the hallway and he then kisses you with more passion. You quickly become out of breath as you lose track of what is you and what is him. He holds your waist and lifts you up, almost carrying you to the bedroom. And so you spent a memorable moment with someone destiny didn't plan for you.

Next Few Days

"Jungkook! Jungkook!" You scream knocking on his door at two in the morning.This asshole simply decided to have a party in the middle of the week to celebrate his band's birthday. But you work tomorrow. A girl opens the door revealing a crowd behind her. Maybe you're exaggerating but there are a lot of people at this party.

“Jungkook is busy, do you want to leave a message?” She says looking at you with a mocking face, you simply walked past her and entered the apartment. He looked in every corner until he found him. Jungkook, who you hadn't seen since he broke up with the bond you two had. He he was curled up with a girl and surrounded by some people.

"So this is the real you? A complete idiot who doesn't care about your neighbors?" You shout angrily, knowing he doesn't expect to see you. He reacts in surprise, your eyes meet his. It's like a stab to see him and not feel anything. Or almost nothing.

"What are you doing here?" Is all he says, as he walks away from the girl and approaches you. Maybe it's to hear what I'm saying. There's a lot of noise here so you don't even know if he heard you knocking on the door.

"Warning you that if you don't turn that music down, I'll come back here with a bat and break your instruments. All of them." You speak angrily to him, and getting more and more irritated by the loud sound. You then head out of his apartment.

"You can't come into my apartment and leave like it's nothing." You hear Jungkook talking but keep walking. Until you feel him hold your hand.

To be continued...

[remyfire]

Here's a thought: sex pollen sidhawk

(prompts now closed) I don't want to talk about why this ended up being 3k, and I will be honest, it has not been beta'd, but boy, did that feel good to write. I hope you enjoy, anon!! Thank you so much for the prompt!

It's difficult enough every time that Sidney's care is requested at the 4077th, but getting the call when it comes to one Hawkeye Pierce is unsettling to the point of being unable to stand once he has hung up the phone. Sidney's perfectly organized mind, filing cabinet after filing cabinet, suddenly falls into solid darkness, inaccessible, making him as useless as a goldfish in a glass of water. But when he can urge the blood into his legs, everything comes rushing back, leaving him tight in his skin as he rushes to prepare himself for the journey.

In truth, Hawkeye is the reason why it is incredibly hard to be summoned there. He's dangerous, not in a violent or fearful way but to the integrity of Sidney's heart. It is all but necessary to hold him at bay—regardless of how tempting it is to protect him, memorize him, study him, understand him—but any attempt to tell Hawkeye this has not brought any positive results. He's hungry. He always has been. If he's not devouring knowledge or forcing his assistance to be taken, he's coaxing people into his bed and often finding himself in pieces when it's over. Attempting to dissuade him from those impulses never goes well.

It doesn't matter what they crave with one another, even if they share the same desires for a lover, a partner, a soft place to settle like a bird in its nest. There's too much danger in the midst of this war zone, not just physically but mentally, emotionally. Every day, Sidney reminds himself that he must maintain an objectivity between himself and any potential patients. And unfortunately for all of them, this includes and perhaps prioritizes Hawkeye. Though he'd never admit it to a soul, Sidney is all but certain that Hawk straddles the edge of a breakdown. Maybe it won't happen today, tomorrow, or even in this decade, but eventually it will come, and if Sidney is the only one there who might be able to give him care...

He does, however, recognize the flaw of his plan to remain objective. If he was to ever have a chance at not falling for Hawkeye, then he needed to refuse the invitation to that very first "medical conference" because the moment that he sat elbow to elbow with Hawk, Sidney's fate was set. There's not a drop of objectivity remaining.

He simply can't let it get worse.

As Colonel Potter departs, leaving Sidney alone outside of the VIP tent, Sidney takes a moment to really let the briefing he just received sink in. Once Hawkeye returned from a routine visit to an aid station, he was showing an odd list of symptoms such as glassy eyes, difficulty responding to questions, slurring speech, elevated body temperature, and clammy skin. Though the medical staff are still sorting through what tests they are able to safely perform here to rule out a number of physical ailments, the recent change from slurred speech to a mild personality shift necessitated both a low dose of a sedative and an immediate call for Sidney's assistance.

He's taken everything in as well as he can. He isn't sure exactly what he's walking into right now—mild personality shift appears to include overwhelming assertiveness, hypersexual behavior, and desperate bargaining, all of which could point to a wide array of his own possible diagnoses—but no matter what he sees in this tent, he knows he must remain as calm as possible.

This is all very well and good until he actually opens the door, steps inside, and sees that Hawkeye appears to be recovering from the sedative. He knows this because the 4077th's chief surgeon is currently in the cot on his side, rutting languidly against the pillow, sweat dripping from his hair, and three of his own fingers in his mouth with drool dripping down all of them.

As Hawk gazes at him, his pupils are dilated so alarmingly that Sidney's heart stops. He didn't hear any mention of a potential head injury. Surely they would've noticed that. There's no blood, no bruising, no outward sign of trauma, no—

"Sidney," Hawkeye breathes in the huskiest possible tone. With a crooked grin, he rolls toward the edge of the cot. "Sidney..."

"Careful," Sidney blurts. He darts forward into a kneel and catches Hawk with a hand on his chest before he can fall straight to the floor.

Alarmingly, Hawk whines, eyes falling shut, head tipping back, a full-body shiver breaking through him. "Fuck, fuck, please..."

"Let's make you comfortable, all right, Hawkeye?" Sidney asks as mildly as he can. Instinct kicks in. Soothe, soothe, soothe. "I thought I might come by to check on you. It sounds like you've had a busy afternoon." But as he is working on easing Hawk flat on his back, quiet moans bubble out of Hawkeye, short and pained, each paired with Sidney applying pressure to his body—shoulder, arm, even touching his forehead to check his temperature.

"Don't stop. Please don't stop..."

The moment Sidney lifts his hands, Hawkeye cries out and writhes in the cot. "Hawkeye, honey, what are you feeling?" Sidney knows the desperation is coloring his voice, but as he expected, objectivity has vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Hurts. Please!" He reaches for Sidney's wrist.

"What hurts, zissele?" The old endearment falls from his lips before he can stop it, but Hawkeye gets a hold of his arm then with a bruising grip and yanks Sidney hard enough to almost topple him into the cot. "Hawkeye?" Keep your head, Freedman, come on. He notes how Hawkeye presses Sidney's palm into his own abdomen, how he whimpers and bucks his hips but refuses to let him pull away. "Does this help?"

There's no indication that Hawkeye hears him, just a rapidly whispered mantra of "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop..."

Working on instinct alone, Sidney squeezes Hawk's forearm with his other hand. The sharp whine he receives right away is both needy and relieved. But when he loosens his grip, Hawkeye all but snarls, darting for Sidney's arm, looking on the verge of tears when Sidney pulls it out of range. "Is it the pressure?" Sidney prompts. "Hawkeye, if you're able to, I need you to communicate with me, all right?" This sort of forceful urging goes against his training—he must stay steady, he must, he must—but the words bring Hawk's gaze back to meet his all the same. "Does pressure help relieve what you're feeling?"

Hawk's body twitches again as he stares up at Sidney with the saddest eyes he's ever seen. "Sidney..." Another thrash. They don't seem to be seizures, but those sort of involuntary spasms— "Sidney?" Hawkeye's voice goes whisper thin and yet far clearer.

"Yes, that's it, I'm here, zissele." Is this a temporary moment of clarity? He makes an internal jot beside the question for his observations to follow. How has he taken dozens of mental pages of notes since walking into this tent minutes ago?

"Pressure. The pressure. I-It feels like..." Hawk shudders, lids drooping.

Sidney sucks in a sharp breath. "Stay here with me. What does it feel like?"

He seems to force his eyes wide open, keeps them firmly focused on Sidney without blinking. "Fuck, fuck, Sid, it's, it's like I've got, like I'm a balloon, like the..." A giggle slips out with an edge of hysteria. "Jesus, all that hot air finally caught up to me, huh?"

Nervous laughter. Another jot. Sidney speaks over the rolling wave of cackles. "Is it painful? Does it come and go or is it consistent?"

Hawkeye hums in high amusement, a grin that melts into a pout with a matching furrowed brow. "I need it. Sid, I need it, I need it I need it I need—"

In an act of desperation, Sidney drapes his whole arm across Hawk's chest and pushes downward, and for one moment, Hawk goes completely silent, all held breath and parted lips. But Sidney has never been a particularly physically powerful man nor does his endurance apply to more than the mental fortitude to withstand long, grueling sessions with cracked patients. He can't sustain the weight for more than fifteen seconds, and as his tired muscles begin to lift, Hawkeye wails.

And just like that, Sidney Freedman, dedicated psychiatrist who only operates with thoughtful care, throws everything to the wind and crawls into the cot. "Here I am, Hawkele," he whispers, the fond Yiddish suffix coming to him faster than his own name. He straddles Hawkeye and lets himself turn into completely dead weight.

"Yesssss... Ohh, yes, Sidney." Hawk wraps his arms and legs around him and squeezes as tightly as he can. He's all but soaked through his clothes with sweat and they're so damp that Sidney aches to pull away, pull them off, pull out a towel to dab over him and clean him up, but the last thing he's capable of doing right now is physically abandoning Hawkeye for so much as a moment.

Sidney drops his voice to what he hopes is a soothing level. "Is this helping? Can you hear me?" With every passing second, Sidney becomes more and more aware of how hard Hawkeye is in his fatigues, and though he tries to imagine himself in the middle of the Arctic Circle, his body stirs in response. Not now. He buries his face in Hawk's chest. Not now, please not now.

Like a gentle rippling tide, Hawk begins to grind against him.

"Hawkeye." Sidney whips his head up and tries to catch his eye.

"Wanna come back," Hawk whispers, crystal clear. "Don't, don't let me get stuck like this, Sid, fuck, fuck, don't let me stay here, please?"

"Stay where? Hawkeye." He tries to be firm when Hawkeye bucks upward once more, reaches for his hip in an attempt to hold him still.

"My head. It's boiling. All the steam's getting caught in my veins. I can't think, I can't—" As his voice goes wet, sympathetic tears rush to Sidney's eyes. All at once, Hawk sucks in a sharp breath and grabs Sidney by the face. He pins him there with his stare. "Fuck me."

Sidney tries to shake his head but Hawkeye's grip tightens.

"Fuck me, Sidney, fuck it out of me, fuck me better." Every word tumbles out of Hawkeye faster, faster, faster, each as pointed as a scalpel.

"This isn't the way it should go, zissele," Sidney murmurs back, pleading. "I can't be sure if you're in your right mind. I don't know if you're you. Can you understand that?"

On he goes, rutting, panting. "Private Kafka," Hawk all but snaps, and while Sidney's trying to make sense of it, he goes on in a single breath. "That's inscrutable, the psychiatric basis for gambling, I'm not screwed up enough, I told you, Biarritz, Sidney, the choo-choo around the bend—"

"Hawkeye..." The wobble in Sidney's voice is too telling. He inhales, holds it, lets it out, presents the picture of being as calm as he possibly can be. "You know we can't do that. There's too many steps. We don't have the supplies. And even if we did, I don't know what you're experiencing, but there's no scientific basis for sexual intercourse relieving any of the symptoms that you're experiencing—"

"Pressure," Hawkeye hisses, lifting his head so they're nose to nose. "Sidney, Sid, I would..." He curls into Sidney with a groan, limbs clenching him tighter, bringing their erections flush together through just a few layers of fabric, bringing goosebumps down Sidney's spine. "I-I'd kill for it not to be like this, but Jesus Christ, when you're not, not holding me down like this, that's when I'm not my head, that's when I get, when I'm lost, I need it out of me, I need to release it, please, fuck, please, Sid, don't leave me here, don't let me—"

As Sidney touches their foreheads together, he rolls his hips forward, and as Hawk whimpers and digs his nails into Sidney's back, he tries desperately not to hate himself. "Hawkele. I'm sorry, honey." Years of medical and psychiatric training reduced to this, clinging to the man who he loves, rutting against him like they're animals in heat, taking what should be a beautifully intimate experience and reducing it to—

"Thank you." The words drift up and brush Sidney's lips with steam-hot air. "Oh, fuck, Sidney, thank you, God..."

The mere notion that Hawkeye is thanking him for the scraps of what Sidney so dearly wants to provide? No, no, that's sour on his tongue, bugs under his skin. There's too much adoration trapped in his chest to be thanked for this.

Despite every boundary he's tried to maintain, Sidney surges forward to kiss him. As he drinks up the mewling moans vibrating into his mouth, Sidney keeps a steady rhythm, trying to ignore the electric pulses of pleasure climbing his spine, helpless but to feel them anyway. When Hawk gets a hand around the back of his neck, Sidney sinks fingers into his hair, scraping over his scalp.

I'm not leaving you trapped, he tries to transmit straight into Hawkeye's mind. I want every piece of you, zissele, your mind, your heart, your body, your fears, your dreams... With a slight shift, Sidney trips into the perfect angle. It's fire sweeping into an inferno inside of him. As a groan pulls itself free from his tight hold, Hawkeye seems to light up from the sound of it. He kisses with a delicious excitement that feels exactly like Sidney has always dreamed of. Frenetic. Agile. It's good, it's too good, it's exactly enough to fuzz Sidney over just a touch with getting a taste of all of his fantasies.

He's not sure who flips the switch inside of him, but Sidney redoubles his efforts.

The sweat begins to break over his entire body as well, pairing with the ecstasy as perfectly as a sweet wine. He gives everything he has. It doesn't matter that they don't have a scrap of clothing off, Sidney fucks him, and he does it like he does anything else—with a single-minded concentration on the final goal. Pressure, Hawkeye says, that's what he needs, this constant push of their bodies together. If Sidney had his way, he'd get his mouth on Hawkeye, find out what his pretty cock tastes like, suck him straight down his throat and swallow and see what kind of relief that might provide... But no, not today, not here, not now, not when the only way he could manage it comfortably while being able to keep an eye on Hawk's expression would be to remove his weight.

Sidney shudders as he shoves his arms under Hawk's shoulders, trying to squeeze him just that little bit more. "You're beautiful, Hawkeye," he can't help but whisper. "Oh, zissele... Is this what you need?"

"Perfect," Hawkeye murmurs, lets out a whimper, then tries again. "It's perfect, Sidney, please—"

"I won't stop. I-I can't..." Sidney bites his lip before he lets anything else out that might be too presumptive. But God, it's all but impossible to hold it in when he's straddling a peak. He doesn't feel as though he's earned an orgasm. There's no world where he deserves it, where he can be sure he's not taking advantage. It's Hawkeye who needs this. And it seems as if he might be barely seconds away from finding it.

Hawkeye's moans have reached a fever pitch. They're possibly the most arousing sounds Sidney has ever heard in all of his forty-seven years. What's more, he's back to writhing, putting everything he has into the almost hypnotic rocking of their bodies, never passive, never, not his Hawkeye. "Sid, it's so good, I-I'm so close."

"That's it, Hawkele, take it, take everything you need from me, let, let me help." Sidney's voice cracks, the tears in his eyes wrapped intrinsically around the crushing, vulnerable intimacy that's trying to claw its way out of his chest.

"Sidney!" Hawk shouts his name just before he bites down on Sidney's jacket and muffles his scream as he lets go. Sidney swears that somehow he can feel the heat of his release bleeding through their shorts, their trousers, and though his hips are beginning to ache, he pushes on like his high school days of sprinting, seeing Hawkeye through all the way to the end, buck after buck. It takes every fiber of his being to withhold his own orgasm, not to—

With a high-pitched whine, Hawk drops his head back on the pillow. "Don't stop, don't stop, come for me, Sidney, please."

—come, fuck, fuck, like a depth change, like plummeting under the ocean and being squeezed by it into his own death, desperate pleasure and tears, wordless weeping, everything tightening as he shakes and shakes and shakes around Hawkeye until it begins to dissipate, until all that remains is the trembling, the fear of letting go.

But Hawkeye is here too. He's petting through Sidney's curls and shivering with him. And just as the guilt makes its return, Hawk whispers, "It's, it's... H-Hold on, I think it's working."

Another mental jot. When Sidney becomes aware of it, he almost barks an unstable laugh of his own. But instead he lifts his head and cups Hawkeye's cheek with a sniffle. "You're...yes, you're becoming cooler."

Hawkeye grins, the edges of his eyes crinkling. "Are you saying I was a loser before?"

That draws the chuckle. "Oh, you're certainly clearing up," he drawls. He feels as though he's desperately reaching for strings of normalcy, the rhythm that he's familiar with. But he's also exhausted. Anxious. Sidney tilts his head, watching in fascination as Hawk's pupils begin to shrink. "Your eyes aren't glassy. Your voice is steadier. Your—"

"Dr. Freedman," Hawk murmurs as he gives him one more squeeze. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to table the diagnostics for five minutes of holding you."

Oh, he's a goner, every bit of him. But if he's being honest with himself, this isn't a new state of being, no matter how much he ran from it. Sidney closes his eyes with an unsteady sigh. "Your motion has been approved, Dr. Pierce," he whispers back, then buries his face in his Hawkele's neck. The world can stand still for five minutes. And if it doesn't, if it comes to a sudden end, then at least he'll be here in Hawk's arms to bid it farewell.