#so it feels worth discussing at the very least

[avidaraku]

awkwardly stepping into the not tags section and yes I agree w everything abt this discussion... having no one acknowledge you in any actual interaction is essentially just trying to talk to a shadow of yourself. It's not bad to be by yourself but its like if u want to have a discussion or debate and then the person who is in front of you starts talking to anyone but you, despite how much you earnestly try to get their attention.

It is scary to talk to other people but people genuinely just never know how other ppl feel unless they start bringing these things up. It is abhorrent how writers get treated. I hope you get to meet better ppl who find your actual worth bc all creators deserve to be acknowledged and loved @drsteggy. Its important to bring all of us together, and to keep contributing to the community whether u are just someone who doesn't technically create. Its important to take your time and appreciate the love put into these works, if u are going to talk abt fanworks as a whole for ur fav fandom.

it genuinely is the small interactions that can add so much for your Fandom! You'll get to know the author on a more personal level (at least creatively so more behind the scenes things) and the author will get to know more abt the Fandom through their readers!

I think Fandom is a symbiotic relationship. One side can't exist without the other, and if you guys want more as a whole, we all need to take a step together. It is scary, but I sincerely believe you will at least find one person that makes you realize it was worth reaching out to somebody. And maybe you'll even get to see more people reach out and you too will be the one to make someone's Fandom experience worth it. Don't let all your joy go unsaid, guys <3 Fandom is literally the most human thing we can do - we are not creatures of isolation, no matter how easy it is to separate ourselves from this reality. How else would you get into Fandom if it wasn't for how much you adored the work of a human being who has probably taken painstaking years to finish it. Isn't it beautiful to see people talk about the same thing you love? Isn't it a breathtaking sight to find the right person who understands what you mean, to finally gain a peer who just gets you?

We all have the potential to reach out to others, and I think considering how tumblr and ao3 are directly correlated, we can bring more of that good energy to our Fandom spaces :)

The important thing is that we acknowledge ppls feelings of frustration bc it is so god damn hard to keep going when there is nothing at the end. It isn't fair that creatives get pushed down. The situation in Fandom is frankly way too complex but I think we need to just discuss more of these subjects. A lot of ppl tend to be surprised by how creatives are just not happy with how they're treated, but I think we need to start bridging that gap.

ie questions like:

What really is fandom and fandom space?

If you can spare the energy to consume your favorite work from a creator and love it a lot, what can you do to continue supporting these works?

What is the point of fandom?

Is something holding you back from expressing yourself in a space meant for fans?

If you tend to underestimate your own existence in Fandom, why? Would you call any parts of a Fandom useless?

What does Fandom feed and thrive on?

Is a Fandom truly dead?

these aren't the best questions but they're just examples of ways to reflect upon everyone's experiences, generally speaking. I just think its fascinating how resigned everyone can get. Its fascinating in a very sad way. I know things have been hard both in real life and online, but fandoms are meant to cultivate this space of understanding and discussion and also safety imo - i frankly don't think we have to resign ourselves to being passive figures in the spaces we've chosen to join and enjoy. Just imagine a world without fandom, without that space for communication and likewise ppl who enjoy the same things as you? Its very hard to talk about what I like to anyone in my personal life, but there is just something so different and refreshing to know someone just like you despite likely being in a different country from you.

Our interests tie us together, one way or another.

My most treasured relationships are from fandom, even if I'm not the most charming or social person online. I have 3 discords. 1 is my private discord for myself, 1 is a fandom discord I've recently joined, and the last one is a fandom discord I've been in since 2020. All my other discords I've left as a result of growing and reflecting on what is it that I really need. This response has adapted into something much more than just the struggles of a writer but I just need you guys to know that everything is something that will only exist in this very moment. Maybe it will be there, but maybe it'll be gone the next time you look back on it.

you won't remember everything you've watched nor will you remember all these memories of your life. But still, you take pictures of them and dedicate a space for them, somewhere, somehow...

My favorite parts of fandom and just life in general is when I get to indirectly experience someone's thoughts and reflections - Fandom videos on social media, someone's fervent liveblogging, character moodboards and playlists, fandom weeks, fan translations, and fanwikis / fandom resources - they all matter. All of the things you see in fandom is because someone loved it so nuch or thought it was worthwhile it should exist.

Fandom is a beautiful creature, if u let it exist and let it grow. If we want it to blossom, we must nourish the souls that come into it. Everyone matters here, even if there is still bad aspects to community. That just comes with the territory of being human. There will be discourse and maybe even much worse, but please don't forget that you exist and its okay to do what you want instead of falling into peer pressure. Fandom itself wouldn't exist without breaking against the grain. You came here for a reason, didn't you? I know its scary, but it feels good to let go of all expectations and just... free yourself.

If you are scared for the future of fandom, you must remember that you and others around you are the future. You are the present that can affect others. You are human and it is wonderful. I hope you guys reach out to each other more often. It is a lonely and cruel place when you are hiding from what you love. You don't have to be.

Treasure yourself and the world.

When you talk about why someone might want engagement with their fics, I do think there is one crucial reason you always overlook.

Sometimes the reason is not a bid for popularity or reassurance or even community, but for me at least if I am writing a fic, it is because I am passionate about the show and the characters and I tend to approach my fics as a way to sink my teeth into what makes the characters tick, how they might act like in different circumstances and so on. Therefore I post because I want to geek out with others about it. For that same reason, I cannot shut up in other writers' comment boxes if their story resonates with me.

I agree with you that community makes fandom infinitely more fun and rewarding but the rush of happiness at getting a (multi sentence) comment to me is not unlike when you say strike a conversation with a stranger in a museum in front of your favourite painting or finding out that a friend or an acquaintance shares a hobby or a passion for a dear book or movie with you, after which you jump into a fevered and lengthy discussion.

It is also for this reason that fandoms where I have gone to the trouble of building community in the first place are those where people generally want to tell interesting stories and to talk about them and have interesting things to say. Sometimes that's three fandom friends leaving wall of text comments on one another's fics (that no one else cares about), and sometimes it's a larger more diffuse group of strangers leaving short comments that say "I screeched with delight reading what Character A said" - but it always is a place where people are not afraid to share their enthusiasm and joy and passion about the stories told and the act of story telling itself.

That's an excellent point, anon. I think I'm mentally including that concept under the umbrella of community but it's a fair point that I should really break it out when I'm describing the concept.

It's one of the aspects of fandom that I really enjoy as well. Having a space where people feel comfortable being enthusiastic is a core component of community to me, but that doesn't necessarily mean that a "community" forms.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts! It's an excellent reminder and food for people to think about.

[somegrumpynerd]

Actually it turns out I had more thoughts about that post that I forgot about lol

Would Nightmare actually give up his boys? Yes and no

If it was just a black and white situation of they're miserable, they don't wanna be here, they have somewhere better to be, then yes. He would leave them out to wherever they needed to be despite his own feelings and very quickly realise afterwards just how much he'd gotten used to the noise and company. I think he would get a little clingy with Dream about it, which I'm sure Dream would find very weird after everything but not unwelcome, he did miss his brother after all.

(If he couldn't attach himself to Dream's side for whatever reason, I think he might just sit in his castle and go insane. Or maybe he'd just spend all day at Ccino's trying really hard to project that he just likes the atmosphere and isn't lonely as hell)

But the thing is, most of them don't have somewhere better to be. Horror has his au, and Nightmare would keep up the supply of food even if Horror said he wanted to quit at this point, so he would understandably let him return home. Killer, Dust and Cross effectively don't have aus anymore though, and they tend to get into self-destructive habits when they're left to their own devices. (Obviously bringing Color and Epic into the mix to make sure Killer and Cross are taken care of eases matters, but Dust doesn't really have any friends outside their group he could go stay with - that Nightmare knows about at least).

The flipside of this is that his boys may not necessarily want to be given up. I think if Nightmare got really in his head about this he could easily end up convinced this is the right thing to do without ever asking them if it's what they want, with potentially terrible results. He's established such a pattern of always returning to find Killer when they get seperated, that if he never showed up Killer might just keep sitting there and waiting for him greyfriar's bobby style, refusing to leave because he's certain his boss is coming back.

[its-all-papaya]

i feel like beach read is like. soooo all over the place from a vibes/world-building perspective. both of my published plot fics felt so consistent and fully-formed to me as universes during their writing processes and i KNOW beach read's universe in my mind, but i feel like i'm doing a much worse job of developing it for readers. and that's probably bc there are like 18 plotlines, but nutcracker fic was also sort of that way and IT felt sooo smooth and cohesive. idk man ! idk. this fic might be more of a collection of thoughts and scenes than it is a really constructed narrative. writing is like. so difficult. for me.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

winston my quant of billions

[aceredshirt13]

gang i have to share this P. G. Wodehouse quote with you all because ever since I found it I can't stop thinking about it. it's from a letter he wrote when he was 78 years old to his friend Guy Bolton (many thanks to P. G. Wodehouse: A Life in Letters)

I have been on the sick list myself, but am better now. Inflamed bladder or chill on the bladder or something, the symptoms being agony when I passed water, as the expression is. It brought back the brave old days when I used to get clap.

he really said "yeah the pain from my bladder issue reminds of the days when I used to have so much sex I repeatedly got venereal disease"

[cathodic-clairvoyant]

You are actually the only person I have seen say anything that makes sense regarding HDWR recently, thank you for your good takes. I love this manga, but it really feels like I’m not reading the same story as most people sometimes

I for the record think that there is a lot (in fact i'd say majority) of interesting discussion about hdwr, even now, (just the other day in the main tag i saw a post that i liked talking about tamaki as a character & her and miwa's relationship and despite the subreddit having a lot of silly posts lately i think a couple months ago around ch. 113's release there were a lot of good comments about MiwaSae and both of their development throughout the story and I think even now there's good discussion about ch. 119 and miwa and tamaki burried in the silly stuff) and in some sense like i feel like the current wave with ch. 119 was always going to happen, it's a very emotionally charged topic that we're seeing how much it hurt a character people tend to like so like i understand being upset by it and having strong opinions about it.

That all being said, the kind of discussion that tends to surround the story of "sae was unfair/toxic to miwa" "tamaki has always been manipulative" "yuria is unfair to sae" are baffling to me because I feel like to get anything out of this story- to not instantly just be frustrated with it- you have to interact with it a little bit on its terms and I think part of that is acknowledging that these characters are more complex than the simple one word "abusive/toxic/manipulative/innocent" labelling and have complex emotions and imperfect reasoning that cause them to make mistakes, be cruel to each other, and do the wrong things. This doesn't excuse the characters' actions but that's not what the story is interested in doing anyway.

And like, I don't think the story is for everyone, I don't think everyone has to want to interact with the story on those terms; which is why while i personally don't agree with the kind of people who say "i had to stop reading when miwa and sae broke up bc it was too sad/too frustrating" and the like, I can at least understand it as just the story has goals that reader doesn't want to engage with, which is completely understandable. Where it confuses me is getting so far through the story and still not choosing to interact with the story on its terms. What are you getting out of this story then??? Does viewing sae as toxic enhance the story for you? Is it a useful way in looking at the narrative?

Especially since I feel like tamifull has attempted to make these characters realistic almost to invite us the reader to examine both ourselves and our relationships as we read. Is How Do We Relationship a useful tool to to analyze yourself or your own relationships with if you flatten the characters into good and bad? Is that a lens you'd want to view your own relationships with? I don't think so. I feel like the only things it could lead to is "i wouldn't make that mistake because I'm not toxic." "i wouldn't find myself in this situation because me and my partner aren't like them." So like. What benefit does viewing these characters in this way give you? You clearly seem to agree with/like the goals of the story if you're still here 100+ chapters later so like. What are you getting out of this?

I dunno. Like i said, I do think there's still a lot of good discussion about hdwr. That's why I still lurk the subreddit and read posts in the main tag. It's just this specific genre of discussion i can't understand especially when it happens with like more recent chapters

[mariasont]

That anon was living under a rock because your smut fics (all of your fics tbh!) I reread wayyy to many times, lol. But if you’re taking smut requests, I’d love to see more bimbo!reader and Hotch! I can’t get enough.

I’ll take anything!! But more specifically, their first time, all of that built up tension (that you write so perfectly!) finally breaks!

Anyways, I never send in requests but I saw a window of opportunity and had to take it, haha.

Third Date Rule - A.H

summary: the third date proves to be worth the wait when you and hotch experience your first time together. pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, sexy time, fingering, oral fem receiving, p in v, they did not in fact wrap it before tapping it and it's not really discussed so yeah idk about that one, aftercare wc: 7.7k

This was so overdue.

Technically, it's only been three dates. Technically.

But if you count all the years you'd known him, the months spent daydreaming about this moment, the weeks of waiting while he played the world's longest game of restraint, then really, you should have had him naked ages ago.

And if Aaron (which still feels like a thrill to say — Aaron — because you're dating now and you can freely call him that) wasn't so stubborn and noble and insufferably gentlemanly, you would have.

But tonight was finally the night. The third date. The sacred, hallowed, much-debated, universally accepted gateway to getting into the sheets. And yes, okay, maybe you barely survived the wait without jumping his bones, but that's hardly relevant now. The point is, you did it.

And now you're in his lap, his tie wound tight around your fingers, his tongue deep in your mouth, and gods, if this night didn't end with him inside you, you might actually die. 

Like, literally. Heart failure. Sudden death.

This was premeditated. At least, for you. You moisturized like your life depended on it, doused yourself in perfume that could be classified as a controlled substance, and selected a bra that made your tits look so insane, it might actually be illegal in some states.

And then you spent an embarrassing amount of time picking the perfect dress that says oh, I'm classy, but also please take me home and rip this off with your teeth.

You pull away, just enough to see him. To take in the slow bloom of pink trailing from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, the way his pupils are so wide they’ve all but erased the brown of his eyes. And his lips — swollen and red from kissing you — part like he was debating how bad it would be to drag you right back in. You wouldn’t mind.

“Aaron,” you sigh, fingers burying into his hair, marveling at how absurdly soft it is, how freely he lets you have this piece of him. “We should go to bed.”

For a second, he locks up. Not hesitation but calibration, a body processing desire so sharp it might break him. You feel it in the way his chest expands, in the quiet exhale through his nose.

"This wasn't my plan for the night," he murmurs, voice softer now, not strained, but steeped in something much gentler. Something careful. "I wasn't —," He shakes his head, like the whole concept doesn’t sit right in his mouth. "I don't want you to think this is just —,"

"Sex?"

You can see the way he wants to argue, like he wants to carve the word out of the air and replace it with something that means more.

"Yes."

You can’t stop the stupid, lovestruck smile pulling at your lips. Maybe it’s the wine from dinner finally working its magic. (It’s not.) Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, all serious and earnest, like you’re the only thing in existence, and if he blinks, you might vanish. (It definitely is.)

A laugh bubbles up, light and giddy, body not knowing what to do with all this adoration. You lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, just to see if he’ll let you. (He does.)

“Are you serious? If you just wanted sex, you wouldn’t have spent actual years pretending my very dedicated, very expertly executed attempts to seduce you weren’t happening.”

His brow arches, but you see it for what it is — a stall. “Expertly, huh?”

"Remember that heatwave last summer? When I just had to eat a popsicle at my desk every afternoon?"

His eyes darken like the memory is playing in high definition behind his eyes.

"I remember."

"Do you?" Your fingers slip beneath his color. “Because —” You tilt your head. “I always seemed to finish them standing in front of your office —"

You don't even get to finish your sentence. 

One second, you’re speaking, the next, you’re airborne. Lifted clean off the couch, legs locking around his waist automatically, arms thrown around his shoulders like you planned this all along.

You didn’t, but you wish you had. 

Not that it matters, because he’s already moving, already walking straight to the bedroom.

You bury your smile against his jaw, letting your breath tickle against the shell of his ear as another giggle slips out. It couldn’t be helped.

"I really hope you know," you whisper, “that I am, like, stupidly excited for this. Like, counting down the days excited.”

Aaron sets you down on the mattress gently, but his body doesn’t follow right away, hovering over you.

"You're not making this easy for me."

You ignore him because you’re much more distracted by how insanely soft his sheets are. That was your first thought when your back hits the mattress, hair fanning across the pillows.

For a fleeting second, you wonder if he’ll catch the scent of your perfume tomorrow. If he’ll notice the ghost of you when he lays down alone.

Your second was that this is so not the time nor place to get emotional. 

But this is his space. His bed. His room.

It’s tidy, but somehow not sterile, everything having its place, but not afraid to be used. A book sits on the nightstand, a book mark sticking out mid-thought. A photo frame faces the bed, though from this angle you struggle to see what’s inside.

There’s his suit jacket from yesterday, draped over the back of a chair, a little rumpled. 

And maybe it's silly, but you feel weirdly honored to be here.

You should probably be processing this moment, what it means to be here, with him, like this. Instead, you take a second to admire the view.

The lamp softens the sharp lines of his face, making him look almost gentle — which is funny, considering how you hoped to be thoroughly destroyed by him.

Something expands inside you, stretching against the walls of your chest, something too big, something that terrifies you.

So you do what you do best. You deflect.

“I can’t believe I’m about to sleep with my boss.”

He doesn’t even try to hide his exasperation, his forehead dropping into the crook of your neck. “Sweetheart—,”

"What?" You giggle, letting your fingers slide through his hair, letting your nails rake lightly over his scalp. "It's true."

His sigh is nothing short of pained, but then he kisses your cheek anyway, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You were starting to feel like each was a thinly veiled attempt to tame you.

"Please don't phrase it like that."

"Yes, Mr. Hotchner." 

Every self-satisfied thought evaporates the moment he kisses you – really kisses you.

It’s not just a meeting of lips but a focused intensity, tongue sweeping inside your mouth and suddenly nothing before this mattered, because clearly, clearly, every kiss you’ve ever had was just practice for this one. 

Your body responds before your mind can catch up, spine arching and he doesn’t stop you, just kisses you with a hunger that makes teasing obsolete, that makes breathing secondary to the way he’s taking from you, giving to you, all at once.

His lips wander, dragging across your jaw like he’s leaving invisible ink behind, pressing something permanent into your skin.

You hope you’ll wake up tomorrow and still feel him there.

Your hands move to the nape of his neck, drawn by craving, by the need circling inside you like a ribbon of fire.

It stretches outward, licking at your skin, threading through your veins. His hands hold you still, spanning over your rib. His breath fans over your pulse, and you swear he can feel how fast it’s racing.

You should be gloating right now. This is, after all, exactly what you wanted, what you worked for. A biting remark sits on the top of your tongue, but then his mouth moves, and he finds it.

That wicked, traitorous little dip beneath your jaw that turns your entire brain into pink, glittering static. He pauses, listening, feeling, before sealing his mouth over it again, tongue dragging over the sensitive skin like he’s testing a theory that he already knows the answer to.

Your fingers clench in his hair, a startled sound choking in your throat before you can stop it. And then, the bastard laughs. Not sweet, not kind, but low and sharp and smug because he knows exactly what he’s done. 

You had the upper hand. Past tense.

"There it is," he murmurs, pressing another kiss there, his tongue flattening over it just to make you squirm. "You want to know how I figured this out?"

You hum, or try to. But it’s pathetic because you’re barely conscious, every cell fried to uselessness by his mouth.

He mimics you, just to be an ass about it, mocking the dazed little sound like he hasn’t just reduced you to it. "You always reached for it when I looked at you too long."

Your mouth opens. Closes.

"Or," he continues, "when I stood too close to you at the coffee machine. You'd fidget, tuck your hair behind your ear like you weren't thinking about it." His exhale burns against your pulse. "Cute."

You gasp, a little offended, mostly turned on. "Oh, wow. Profiling me? At work? That's, like, wildly unethical."

"Didn't need to," he murmurs. "You were practically begging me to figure you out."

His mouth is perfect in the way lightning is perfect – striking, searing, and completely out of your control. It’s perfect enough that you can pretend not to hear him.

He sucks, slow and hard enough to tear a sound from your lips before you even know it’s there, something that feels like vulnerability in its purest form. Something you would never willingly give him.

His laugh is quiet, wrecking, as he pulls back, lips slick with your skin. "That good?"

His mouth makes quick work, over your collarbone, down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, down, branding every inch of skin he can reach. 

He stops at the neckline of your dress, and suddenly, you can't think about anything except how it's still on.

You want to strip it off, want to offer yourself up as a willing sacrifice, but you’re well aware that if you try, if you even reach, he’ll stop you. Or worse, he'll make you wait. He'll slow you down, draw it out just to watch you squirm because patience is his weapon of choice, because he lives for making you suffer.

His teeth graze the swell of your breast, just enough to sting, and whatever fragile grip you had on yourself disintegrates on impact. Your hands fumble blindly for his face, fingers shaking, needing to see his eyes.

"Please, Aaron.” It’s an exhale, a prayer. “Need you."

You see the ripple of tension along his throat. And for one tiny, blinding second you think this is when he finally snaps, abandons his tolerance and just takes you.

"You don't know how long I've wanted you like this," he rumbles. "I'm going to take my time."

You whine, frustration bleeding from your fingertips where they clutch his shoulders, fingers digging in like you can physically push him into moving faster.

He does not move faster. 

His hands slide up to the straps of your dress, as he drags it down with all the urgency of a leisurely Sunday stroll. 

Your mind is halfway through an exceptionally justified complaint about how slow he is moving when he folds the dress.

Folds it.

Sets it aside. Doesn't toss it.

And that may be the hottest thing he's ever done.

Because you know he knows. He’s always known. Known that your things aren’t just things — that your dresses, your heels, your overpriced lip glosses aren’t frivolous, aren’t some shallow indulgence, but tiny, curated pieces of you.

He has listened to you decide between two pairs of shoes that are, for all intent and purposes, identical. He knows jasmine is mysterious and vanilla is flirty, knows that you’ll debate your right to own the same three shades of pink. 

And instead of dismissing it, instead of rolling his eyes (though he does that too), he folds your dress. As if it matters.

You stare at him, somewhere between melting and spontaneous combustion, and he simply raises a brow. “Something wrong?”

"No." You shake your head for emphasis, voice a little too weak to get the point across. "Just thinking I might have to marry you."

His hands settle at your waist, fingers tracing over the pink lace like he’s trying to process it, like if he touches it enough times, it’ll confirm that this is actually happening and not some cruel illusion. His thumb brushes the scalloped edge, breathing shallow. You were pretty sure he’s currently having a full-scale existential meltdown over lingerie.

"Agreed," he murmurs, distracted, hooded eyes still glued to your chest. "I think the courthouse opens at eight."

Your giggle stutters, hiccups right out of you, because his hands are suddenly everywhere, roaming with no clear plan, just a man in crisis over how much of you he wants to touch first. His palms skate over your stomach, down your thighs, up over your breasts.

"So, this is all I had to do to convince you to do what I want?"

His mouth follows, retracting the path of his hands, rewriting, reworking, perfecting – because apparently, the first time wasn’t good enough, wasn’t thorough enough. 

"You think this is what did it for me?" His voice is hushed. "You could've walked into my office six months ago and told me to get on one knee.” A kiss, open-mouthed, starving, just below your navel. “I would've done it."

Six months ago. You don't know if you believed that.

Except now you're spiraling, backtracking, rewinding, piecing together little details like some lovesick conspiracy theorist with red string and a bulletin board. Every interaction, every loaded glance, every time he let you get away with high-level flirtation without so much as a blink. You thought you were testing him, but what if he was never fighting at all?

And before you can even recover from that, before you can file an official grievance about why no one told you sooner, his hands squeeze at your thighs, his mouth so close to exactly where you need him, and his voice —

"You're so beautiful."

His nose presses into the damp center of your panties, and your hands fly to his hair so fast it’s practically reflex, breath stalling in your chest like your body forgot how to function for a second. 

This is everything. What you've wanted, dreamed of, written in the margins of notebooks (hypothetically, of course).

It should be perfect, but suddenly, it isn't.

Uncertainty slips between the cracks, heat turning into something less solid. You don’t have time to find it, to name it, because he’s already there, already sensing it, already fixing it before you even know what’s wrong.

"Hey." His voice hooks into you, gently reeling you back from wherever your brain was about to go. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"No, I—," The words come out far too fast and desperate, and you can't decipher why it's so hard to say. "I do want to. Obviously." The nervous laugh that follows is definitely not your usual flirty confidence. "Have you met yourself? Because if you haven't, I would love to introduce you. Tall, devastatingly handsome — you'd love him."

His move curves, but his eyes stay patient and focused, giving you a second to breathe.

"It's just..." Another pause, another frustrated sigh. "I haven't been with anyone in a while."

"That's okay, we can take it slow." He moves so that he's hovering above you again, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his smile just amused enough to leave you flustered. "How long?"

"May."

"May?"

"Yeah, like, May. Three years ago."

Aaron just stares at you, processing. You can see the gears turning, the little mental loading wheel spinning, his expression caught between stunned and deeply interested.

His fingers creep up, sliding under your ribs, just close enough to the heavy swell of your tits to remind you exactly where you are. What he was doing to you before you so rudely derailed this into actual conversation.

"Really?"

You pinch his arm. "Hey! That is not an absurd amount of time."

"No. I know. I didn’t say that," he says quickly. "I'm just... surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His lips part and he immediately shakes his head, exhaling like he's physically trying to dispel what just ran through your mind, knowing exactly where your thoughts were.

"I just mean — I don't know how every man you meet doesn't immediately worship the ground you walk on."

"Oh, well, they do." You smile. "But I was only ever planning on letting one of them take me to bed."

You reach for his dress shirt buttons, tugging insistently, but your hands refuse to cooperate, not properly communicating with your brain.

It's his fault, you decide.

He looks too good, and it was extremely hard to focus on anything but that.

You have no idea how you survived dinner. Or the car ride home. Or even the eternity it took to get past the door, because that was definitely a struggle considering your mouth was all over his, tasting the whiskey he’d barely touched, before he could even get the key in the lock.

You spent all night picturing this, the way his hands would feel in you, the way his mouth would taste, the way his suit would look crumpled on the floor.

Which, in hindsight, probably meant you were a pretty terrible dinner guest. Nodding, smiling, pretending to listen, all while barely holding back the need to ride him in public.

Aaron laughs, clearly entertained by your struggle, and then, because he’s nothing if not arrogant, he starts undoing the buttons one-handed, to be a show-off.

It’s rude, really. Because now all you can do is watch, helpless as he peels himself open to reveal golden skin, dark hair dusting over firm pecs, trailing lower, disappearing beneath his belt. 

Your manicured fingers glide over the broad expanse of his shoulders, pushing his shirt away like uncovering some lost Renaissance painting that scholars would kill to get their hands on — something that should be in a temperature-controlled glass case, not just here, sprawled above you like he belongs to you. Which, he does, because he’s just letting you do this, letting you look. And you look. He is art. No, better than art. Art is stationary, lifeless, some brushstroke interpretation of what beauty should be. But this, him, he is warmth and breath and muscle.

Museums wish they had something this valuable. They’d burn down in despair if they knew he existed just for you.

"May," he muses, letting the word roll off his tongue, turning it over in his mind. "That's an oddly specific answer."

You make a vague sound of agreement, mostly just to acknowledge that yes, technically, he did say words, but you’re too busy to actually care. Too busy with spreading your hands over the planes of his chest, with grabbing at his belt.

"You were hired in May three years ago."

Your hands freeze. 

"That's... um weird." A slow blink. "Weird that you know that. Weirder that you noticed."

You work his belt loose, tugging it free. It’s meant to be a distraction, a well-placed touch to shift his focus from his revelation.

But then your plan backfires spectacularly because he’s hard, thick, unreasonably big and suddenly your fingers feel useless.

Aaron makes a sound — half a hiss, half a laugh — and his hands snap to your wrist, catching you before you can explore further, like he knew you were going to do that. "It’s okay, honey."

"I—I don't—," You blink up at him, floundering, desperately trying to sound casual. "That's, uh, I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

Aaron’s smirk deepens, his grip on you slackening just enough to trick you into thinking he’s going to be nice.

But then his other hand moves, slipping between your bodies, sliding beneath the heat trapped between your thighs, finding the neediest part of you, and pressing.

Your whole body jerks, a startled gasp catching in your throat as sensation flares — hot, sharp, mercilessly good.

His fingers start to move, rubbing tight circles against you. Your hands cling, one locked onto his bare shoulders, the other pressing against his dick, desperate to make him feel even a fraction of what he's doing to you.

It earns you a groan, low and gritty, hips twitching against your palm, his breath is hot against your lips, his mouth hovering just barely out of reach.

"I won't tease," he promises, but the way he bites at your bottom lip feels like a lie. His tongue is quick to follow, flicking over the welt he’s just left, soothing the burn before sealing it with a kiss, just this side of messy. “Three years… that’s a long time.” His lips skim yours again. “For both of us.”

A pleased sound bubbles up from your throat, slipping between his lips, that makes it obnoxiously clear just how much you love those words. That is a sentence you’d like embroidered on a pillow. Maybe cross-stitched into a nice, elegant frame for your future shared bedroom. 

"Oh," you sigh, a smile stretching against his lips. "I really, really, like knowing that. That's, like, incredible news."

Your brows scrunch, and you pull back just an inch. 

"Just to be clear, though, you do mean in a wow, you've ruined me for other women way, and not in a I've been to busy for a sex life way, right? Because those are two different things, and I need to know which one we're working with here—"

Aaron huffs a laugh and instead of answering with words, his hands slip into your panties, fingers finding your clit without prelude. Skin to skin now, no fabric, no flimsy barrier. Just touch.

His fingers dip lower, dragging through the slick, indecent in how easily he moves through the mess of you. He makes a noise — nearly a groan, mostly a hum of appreciation, of possession — before he spreads it, smearing your own arousal over your clit, rolling circles.

"Oh, wow, sweetheart."

Your thighs fall open like you have no say in it — because you don’t, because every instinct in you is reaching for him, needing it like a fix.

And maybe, maybe that should be embarrassing — the obvious, shameless way you seek him out — but it’s a gorgeous kind of humiliation, a flush that spreads lower.

"Well," you gasp, chest rising in stuttering little pants. "Y—you kept me waiting forever."

Aaron hushes you with a soft tsk, his fingers pressing, stroking, coaxing you into sweet, mindless submission. Every movement feels preordained, like he already knows your body, like he’s a man who’s spent years thinking about this.

"I know, sweetheart," he soothes, murmuring it against the fragile skin beneath your ear, punctuating it with a kiss. "But I think I'm making up for lost time pretty well."

"I guess," you manage. "Th—that's acceptable."

Aaron chuckles, the vibration traveling straight into your skin. His lips descend, an idolization thing, but it’s the kind of devotion that sets you on fire.

His hands spread over your thighs, parting them gently.

Your underwear drags down, slipping over your thighs, grazing the curve of your knees, and then off. And suddenly, there's nothing separating you from his eyes, from the way the air licks over you, cool against the sticky heat between your thighs.

His lips part like he wasn't expecting to fall apart so easily. Like he thought he'd have more time, more control. And the power in it, the sheer, intoxicating power of knowing he's just as affected as you are, that this is breaking him open, makes your skin fizz, burn, ache for him even more.

If someone had told you a year ago that Aaron Hotchner, mister all-business-all-the-time, would be between your legs, staring at you like he's never seen anything more perfect, you would have said something nonsensical. Something about fate. Or destiny.

And you would have been right. Because you always knew this was a definite.

"Oh, honey.... You're gorgeous," It's almost a whisper, like the words were dragged out of him against his will, stolen straight from his lungs the second his eyes landed on you. His gaze drinks you in, head tilting, lips parting, tongue skating over the swell of his bottom lip. “I knew you would be, but…”

A sharp, sizzling spark races up your spine, white-hot and unbearable, but when it should tip over into relief, it withers into frustration. The kind that makes your body revolt against the absence of touch. Your hips buck, thighs squeezing as if you can somehow force the friction you’re being deprived of.

"Give me a second, baby," he teases, caressing his nose along the inside of your thigh. "Just wanna look at you."

His mouth moves in decadent passes, open-mouthed kisses pressed into your inner thigh.

Another kiss. Then another. So close.

Then he detours. Veers off, pressing his lips into the dip of your hip instead, dragging his tongue along something that is not your clit.

"So perfect."

His fingers prod through your folds, parting you, fingertips wading through the slickness pooling at your entrance. The sound that spills from him is sinful.

All of your muscles coiling tight, every inch of you scorching with unmet need and just when you think you're going to have to beg him, just when the words start to form —

He gives in. 

His tongue is there first, dragging a flat, broad stripe through your center, licking over every hypersensitive inch of you before looking up at you through hooded eyes. You swear you nearly come from the sight alone.

"Knew you'd be sweet."

Aaron doesn't waste another second, burying himself in you, mouth moving like he's been ravenous for this. 

His grip is firm as he spreads you wider, keeping you at his mercy. His lips wrap around your clit for a split second before he moves again, tasing, licking, humming, lapping up everything you're giving him.

It's messy. Wet. Dripping. His mouth moves as he tries to wreck himself on you. Each second convincing you that he wouldn’t mind suffocating here if it meant another taste.

His nose nudges against you, the angle so cruelly perfect it sends another violent tremor through your body, legs jumping against his shoulders. Your fingers grasp blindly for purchase, gripping the sheets, tangling in his hair, at anything you can reach. 

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs into you, words muffled by your pussy. "Let me hear you."

"Oh — " The sound falls from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut like you can block out the overwhelming pleasure if you just try hard enough.  "Oh, that's — "

Your hips stutter, thighs tightening around his face.

Aaron chuckles darkly, and you feel it more than you hear it, the sound pulsing through your core.

You’re not sure you have a body anymore, not sure you exist outside of this moment. You’re just sensation, just trembling atoms held together only by his hands, his breath, his voice. There’s no past or future – just now, just him.

If this is what it means to transcend, to be unraveled and rewritten in the same breath, then let it consume you whole. You could die like this, and it would be the kindest death you could ever ask for.

A single finger ghosts over your entrance, teasing but never quite committing. He dips in, just the barest of intrusion, and you shudder, clenching around nothing because it’s gone just as fast. 

He waits, just long enough to hear the next breathy fussing before finally spearing back in. Your eyes flutter shut, breath breaking apart in little puffs.

The sounds coming from your cunt should embarrass you, sticky, so shockingly loud that if your brain was working, you’d be mortified. But it’s not working. Not even a little. 

His hand flattens over your stomach and suddenly the pressure doubles, triples.

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs, "feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes, oh my gods, Aaron, I—"

Your normal senses have left the building. Packed its bags, hit the road, abandoned you to whatever dark magic this is. Because this —this isn’t how your body works. This isn’t how guys work. You don’t come from this. 

But here you are, hurtling toward it at full speed and all because he decided you would.

It’s happening too fast, the pressure stacking. Your thighs shake open, stomach clenching so hard it aches. Your mind is lagging behind, still reeling, still trying to rationalize but it doesn’t matter because your body has already made its choice, has already given in, has already decided this is happening, whether you’re ready for it or not.

"Aaron, I think—,"

Aaron just groans, finishing your sentence for you, lapping up your confession with his tongue,

"I know, baby." Hot air blows against your swollen clit. "Let me feel it."

It crashes over you, back bowing off the bed. Your body splinters apart, thighs trembling so hard you couldn’t stop them if you tried. The edges of your vision smear into nothing as the pleasure consumes everything in its path. 

His mouth stays on you, tongue and fingers pushing you through the aftershocks until you’re clawing at the sheets, until that pleasure tilts so far into oversensitivity that makes you unaware if you’re pulling him closer or pushing him away.

Your limbs feel like liquid, consolidating into every inch of your body, melting into the mattress as Aaron moves to be face to face with you.

He's looking at you like he's the only thing keeping you tethered to this planet, and maybe he is, because when his lips get close enough, you tug him the rest of the way down, crashing your mouth into his in a way that's all sloppy desperation.

You can taste yourself on him, can feel the way he groans into it when you sigh against his mouth, all soft and dreamy and drunk on gratification. 

When you pull back, your fingers card through his hair, fixing nothing but feeling everything.

"Oh my gosh," you gasp, dissolving into giggles, toes curling as you flop back against the pillows. "I knew you'd be good at that, obviously, but I wasn't expecting all that. Like wow, you should get a certificate of excellence or something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sigh dramatically, "Or like, a trophy, a raise, a sash that says best head giver in gold letters—," You pause for a breath, sucking in air like you just realized how winded you are.

"— and I mean, I've never come like that before. So. You should probably put that on your résumé."

When Aaron presses against you, you feel every inch of him. Thick and unfortunately still restrained. His slacks are a cruel barrier, the rough drag of the fabric catching your clit in a way that rips a whimper straight from your throat.

His teeth scrape along your jaw, then he's mouthing at your neck, sucking, teasing, marking you.

"Firstly," he murmurs. "I hate the idea of anyone else touching you."

An involuntary shiver rolls through you.

"And secondly," he continues, "the fact that they didn't even know how."

Your hands are frantic as they fly to his waistband, fumbling a bit, the last hindrance between you offensive in its existence. 

"Well, yeah," you sigh, looking up at him through fluttering lashes, glossy lips parted just for him. "I mean, you're literally the only one who's ever known what to do with me. That has to mean something, right? Like, cosmic destiny or whatever."

Aaron shoves his pants and briefs off, barely sparing them a second thought, and then he's back, fitted between your thighs.

"You already know the answer to that." His lips brush your temple. "I'm the only one who knows how to handle you. And I plan on proving it."

"Yeah, okay," you say, squirming beneath him. "Not gonna argue when that sounds like the best idea ever."

You've seen a lot of versions of Aaron. You've seen work Aaron, serious and bossy, looking at crime scenes like he can hear the evidence whispering just to him. You've seen grumpy Aaron, glaring over his coffee when you talk too much at morning briefings (but you know he likes it, he just won't say). You've seen soft Aaron, the one who lets you steal his jacket even though you definitely don't need it.

But you've never seen this Aaron. This post-kissing-you Aaron. Lips slick, still damp with you, evidence of where he’s been, what he’s done.

His eyes flick to yours, and there’s no shame, no rush to wipe it away. If anything, he tilts his head, letting you see it from a better angle.

"You're so handsome, Aaron." Your voice trembles. You don't even know if you said it out loud or just thought it so hard he must have heard it anyway.

"And you,” he murmurs, tracing his thumb over your cheek, “are so damn sweet, honey."

You beam at that, overwhelmed, so unbelievably happy that your thoughts are practically spilling out faster than you can catch them.

"Okay so I just need to say — this is so exciting, like, you do realize I've had a crush on you for years, right? And now this is actually happening, and that's just — wow."

You suck in a sharp breath, nails dragging over the thick muscles of his arms, across his shoulders.

"I mean, it's us, Aaron. Can you believe that? Like, I feel like this has been building for so long and now I'm just — gods, you're so hot, this is actually distracting me. I can't even finish my own thought —,"

You laugh, because you already feel so full of him and he isn't even inside you yet.

"And I know you're being all careful and slow because you're sweet and romantic and, like, the most perfect man alive, but also —,"

You grind up, chasing friction, his cock sliding just right over your clit. Your breath stutters, hands fisting at the nape of his neck as you try to remember what you were saying.

" — I'm literally at your mercy right now, so you should probably take advantage of that before I —,"

"You talk so much, baby."

And then he shuts you up. Hard.

His mouth rams into yours, ingesting the comment, the breath, everything.

He doesn't rush. 

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance before he finally, slowly, pushes inside.

It knocks the breath from your lungs. Your mouth parts against his, lips catching on his as a little sigh slips out. Your nails dig into his shoulders, helpless against the way he's opening you up. 

He stills, a sharp, fractured inhale slicing through the air, fingers digging into your hips — hard. He is struggling. You can feel it. The way his cock twitches inside you, like his body is screaming at him to move.

"I-I'm good." Your laugh wobbles, catches at the edges, barely disguising how badly you want him to believe you. "You can keep going."

"You're tensing because it's been a while." You don't mean to, but your body reacts before your brain can tell it not to, stiffening. Stupid, stupid. His exhale is shaky, and his lips press against your cheek. "I know that. I expected that."

You swallow, but it doesn't help.

"I also know that you think if I notice, I'll stop." His forehead rests against yours. "But I need you to hear me, baby. I'm not stopping."

His lips graze yours.

"I'm going to work you through this. Just let me in, princess."

And the second you do, the second you finally give in —

He groans, pushing deeper, stretching you completely, filling you to the hilt. 

"There we go," he breathes, wrecked with praise. His hand presses to your lower belly, feeling how deep he is, how well you take him. "That's my good girl."

Your head tilts back, lips parting, body doing the melty thing that feels really, really nice but also really, really dangerous because you swear you're seconds away from levitating straight out of your own skin.

"Okay, so I did think this would feel good —," Your fingers twitch against his chest, nails raking lightly over sweat-damp skin as another sharp moan tumbles free. "— but, um, wow, this is like — this is so —,"

Your words taper off, get lost somewhere between your psyche and your mouth, because oh. Oh, wow. He's so deep, so heavy inside you, pressing into places you didn't even know existed.

"Go on, baby," he murmurs, a smirk plastered across handsome features as he dips his head. "You were saying?"

"You know," you gasp, words all flimsy and loose, like they've been shaken up inside you, "I kinda always wondered how big you were —"

Your breath hooks halfway through, hiccups on a moan, brain scrambling to keep up with your mouth, your mouth scrambling to keep up with — him.

"Not that I, um — I stared at your pants or anything —" Another sharp inhale, another desperate moan, your walls fluctuating and squeezing around something too thick. "I mean, I try not to because I'm a professional —"

An involuntary clench makes him curse, makes his fingers dip into your hips, makes his head plunge forward hard against your shoulder.

"Honey, shit—,"

Your lashes flutter. "What?"

"Sweetheart, if you keep squeezing me like that while you ramble about my cock, I'm not going to last."

Your mouth clicks shut promptly.

"That's what I thought."

Hotch rocks his hips, just once, a sharp gasp fissuring from your lips like you weren't expecting it. 

"Jesus, sweetheart. You're trembling." He cups your cheek, his thumb skimming over your bottom lip, eyes dark and aflame. "Does it feel that good?"

You nod, and he hums, dragging his cock almost all the way out before pushing back in. 

His hand drags down your waist, spans over your belly, fingers pressing like he's charting the way he fits inside you.

"I used to tell myself I wouldn't do this," he admits. "That I wouldn't touch you. Wouldn't ruin you like this."

Your head lolls back, eyes fluttering, lips parted prettily, gasping as he rocks into you again, and again, and again. You shake your head, or at least, you think you do.

"You don't —" You try to shape words, but they liquefy on your tongue. "Don't ruin me, Aaron, you — oh, you make me —"

Hotch's throat bobs, his pupils blown.

"You make me so, so good, so soft, so perfect."

His hand cups your jaw. "You're already all of those things, sweetheart."

"Not before you," you sigh. "I've been waiting so long, Aaron, so, so long —"

"I know, baby," he groans. "I know."

His hand veers between your bodies, his fingers finding the swollen, neglected bundle of nerves.

“Aaron — oh, wait, wait, wait —,” Your hands shoot up to his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can, I mean, I can, but it’s just —,”

His cock throbs inside you, his rhythm stuttering for half a second before he finds it again, harder this time, his fingers matching the pace.

“Too much?”

“Yes, no, kind of? I don’t know, I can’t—,” You choke on your own breath as another thrust knocks every last rumination from your head. “I can’t think.”

“Good.” His forehead presses against yours, his lips parting against your mouth, panting, his control slipping. “I don’t want you thinking. Just feel me, sweetheart. Feel what I’m doing to you.”

Your body is shaking, shaking so hard that you don’t even know if you’re moving or if he’s just pushing you through it. 

“I know, baby. But you can take it, can’t you?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, body twitching. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises, groaning as he grinds into you, stretching it. “One more, honey. You can give me one more.”

It hits you slowly, unwinding through your organs like smelted honey.

“Oh, oh —,” Your breath falters, mind going blank, the pleasure overwhelming every nerve in your body until you can’t do anything but let it consume you.

“Christ,” he groans, feeling you clench around him so tight it nearly undoes him.

You barely register the way you’re gasping, twitching, babbling out breathless little moans, vision blurring, and for a second you think you might black out.

“That’s it, princess,” he rasps, fucking you through it the reverberations. “So, so good for me.”

His pace turns shallow, sharp, chasing the tight, perfect squeezing of you still thrashing around him.

“You’re so tight, honey,” he grits, hands bruising your hips, your breath still catching from your own orgasm.

You’re too gone to respond, too wrung out to do anything but whimper as he takes you, using your body to pull himself over the edge.

He groans, low and deep, his fingers tangling in your hair, his mouth ghosting over your cheek as he finally breaks.

A shudder, a muttered curse, his body jerking, hips slamming into yours as he spills inside you.

He doesn’t mean to collapse, you know that, because even as his body gives out, his arms brace, still trying to be careful, even now. You want to cling to him, lock your legs around his waist, but you barely remember how to move, so you just let out a sleepy sound, nuzzling blindly at his throat. 

He murmurs something low, something that sounds like praise, maybe worship.

His lips press to the side of your face, half-gone and still recovering, and then his muscles tense, trying to lift himself off you.

Your arms wind around his neck before he can get too far. 

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, “I’m crushing you.”

“Don’t care,” you mumble, voice a little hoarse. “Feels nice.”

“You did so good.”

When he finally pulls out, you feel the loss and everything that comes with it, his release sticky and warm beneath your thighs. 

Aaron disappears into the bathroom, and you barely have time to miss him before he’s back with a warm cloth in hand.

You giggle, squirming before he even touches you, already restless, and the second he presses the cloth to your inner thighs, you jerk, laughing helplessly.

“Oh, wait —,”

Aaron sighs, one hand pressing against your hip to keep you still. “Sweetheart. You have to let me clean you up”

“But it tickles—,”

He smirks and continues his work. “How do you feel?”

“Like I saw god actually,” you ramble, kicking your feet against the sheets. “Or, like, like, if I had to describe it, I’d say I transcended reality for a little bit —,”

Aaron just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee as he finishes cleaning you up. Each swipe reminds you that your legs might not be on speaking terms with you tomorrow.

When he’s done his mouth finds yours again. It’s easy to kiss him. If it were physically possible to stay attached to him, twenty-four hours a day, you’d gladly test the theory.

“Worth the wait,” he breathes into your mouth.

“Well, yeah,” you murmur, smirking up at him. “I figured it would be for you.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, baby, you were good,” he mutters, kissing right over your stuttering pulse. “You were so good.” Another kiss. “So good I’m already thinking about the next time.”

Your heart hasn’t even slowed down, and you’re already thinking about the next time. Already plotting, already ready to drag him back down and see just how quickly that next time could turn into right now. But before you can so much as tug at him — Aaron is rolling out of bed, pulling on his pants, disappearing into the kitchen.

You mean to protest, to demand why he left you alone in a post-bliss haze, but then he’s back, pressing a glass of water into your hand, watching you drink it like it’s his personal responsibility.

Then comes food, something light and something he feeds you between kisses, between lazy murmurs about nothing. 

At some point, the blankets are back over you, his lips pressing against your forehead, his voice saying something about getting some sleep before you got any ideas, before pulling you against him.

You hum, content and drowsy, shifting a little, rolling over to get more comfortable —

And then your eyes land on that photo frame from earlier. You had a clear view of it now.

It was you.

It takes you a second to place it, but once you do, you almost laugh. You know this photo — because Garcia took it. She printed it out months ago, probably as some ridiculous gag, and stuck it to Aaron’s office wall with a bright sticky note that read your favorite obviously. You’d rolled your eyes at the time, called it workplace favoritism, but he’d never taken it down. 

And now, somehow, it’s framed. On his nightstand, like he’s been looking at you every night for —

You don’t finish the thought.

Instead, you just smile, huge and uncontrollable.

He doesn’t say anything.

And you don’t need him to.

Because you already know.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[muletia]

✧˖° 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: optimus deals with feelings that, even for him, are way powerful and dangerous

cw: suggestive themes, angst, hardcore pinning, optimus is fucking obsessed with you, obsessive thoughts, yandere?? optimus i guess, bro is down bad for you

word count: 995

He was doing it again.

Optimus is a calculated being. He didn’t make rash decisions, never threw words to the wind. Every action he took had meaning; none were purposeless or born of impulse or whim. He was crafted to be the perfect leader, to guide thousands, millions. He was supposed to be an authority, the alpha and omega, someone to be respected, admired, and followed. But there was one creature who turned his philosophy upside down and broke his facade.

He blinked once, twice. His optics returned to reading the report on the datapad. However, not even ten seconds of focus passed—a return to being the Prime—and his attention was anchored somewhere else again.

He couldn’t tell anymore, was he doing it on purpose or automatically? A force stronger than him, stronger than Primus himself, was pulling his optics toward that one being capable of breaking him. In the presence of this rare power, he was truly defenseless, revealing to everyone close to him the truth of his feelings, the intensity of which surpassed his wildest expectations. They had grown beyond his control, fierce and unyielding, like a wild beast impossible to tame.

He knew it was inappropriate, and unfitting for you and his friends; he should have restrained the beast before it became a problem. But he hadn’t. He had failed, and another burden had taken residence on his shoulders.

You laughed, and his optics instantly shifted to you. His spark throbbed pleasantly, distracting him from tormenting his very being. He adored that sound, rejoicing every time he heard it. It was melodic, soothing, and calming. In an instant, it tamed his chaotic processor, now focused solely on you, the real you. Optimus observed every smile, frown, and wrinkle on your face with great curiosity, even though he had done it countless times. He watched your chest rise and fall, counting how many breaths you took in a minute. He searched for any abnormalities or signs of illness. Nothing escaped his attention.

He already knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on the report. Not when you were so close to him, when he knew there was a microscopic chance you’d start a conversation with him. You’d honor him and look at him, too. He didn't dare to ask for more. He longed, but he knew he couldn’t allow himself that—at least not now. For the sake of keeping an image, he still held the datapad in his hand, but his thoughts were circling around you.

You were discussing something with Miko about a topic he didn’t understand, related to Earth’s video games. For some time now, he had planned to gather knowledge about them, so he could have conversations with you beyond his comfort zone, aligned with your interests. He wanted to be more approachable, and friendly, enticing you to spend more time with him. Amidst the stream of words, he caught a single one, which he assumed was a title, and made a mental note to study it later. Would you be happy to see him as someone worth talking to? Would you smile, let him hold you on his servo or shoulder? Help ease a processor constantly focused on unknowns and daydreams?

Content simply to be in your presence, yet fantasizing about something deeper, more intimate, he was still intently watching you. He had drifted so far from shore that he acknowledged Jack's and Rafael’s greetings a second too late. He nodded to the kids and briefly watched as they climbed onto the couch beside you. You had a way with children, caring for them, and helping with their school projects, but most importantly, you were their friend. Seeing you surrounded by children had an effect on Optimus—a feeling he was even frightened to contemplate because it easily took over him, pulling him away from reality, creating visions that would never come true, no matter how much he wanted them to.

"You are crossing the line," he reminded himself, fully aware that he had crossed it long ago. The cup had overflowed; there was no going back. Primus, he had just daydreamed about having offspring with a different species.

The truth was, despite all the self-flagellation, despite the hatred for what he had become, the ruin he had brought upon himself, he didn’t want to stop. You were a pleasant distraction from the war, death, and suffering that had accompanied him since becoming Prime, and for now, he didn’t plan to (couldn't) let go of that distraction. This didn’t mean his little obsession with you was painless—quite the contrary. However, those brief moments when your attention was focused on him, when you shared your touch as you traveled with him through Jasper when you looked only at him, made up for all the pain, torment, and hell he went through. Then there was no war, no Decepticons, no Optimus Prime. There was only him and you.

One last time, he tried to return to the report, but this time it wasn’t his illusions sabotaging his work. This time, it was you.

“Optimus,” your voice freed him from the prison of his thoughts. “I’d totally understand if you don’t have time to leave the base. But… would you perhaps like to drive me home? It’s getting late.”

“Of course, [Name],” he replied immediately because refusing you made no sense.

“Can’t you ask Bumblebee instead of dragging Optimus to fulfill your whims?” Ratchet intruded into the conversation.

“That will not be a problem for me,” Optimus assured, with an unusually stern tone aimed more at the medic than at you. “I am at your service, [Name].”

“Thank you!”

He transformed and waited patiently for you to join him. He opened the door, and once you climbed into the seat, fastened the seatbelt himself. He hoped you wouldn’t notice the slow pace he had settled upon, that this time he had decided to be selfish, savoring the unrestrained pleasure of your privacy.

[thebibliosphere]

did you get hpv vaccines? theres /some/ evidence that it can be the trigger for pots in some (obv very few) people, i think it might have been for me so i have mixed feelings about it

I did not, but I want to get it done and will be doing so once I get my other more pressing vaccines out of the way because the benefit of preventing cervical cancer are worth it to me as someone with a family history of that cancer.

I’m going to say something that will likely get a lot of people’s backs up: but I do believe people when they say vaccines cause them to develop health issues like dysautonomia or MCAS.

How can I not when every time I get a vaccine it has to be done under strict observation with an epi pen at the ready?

But:

I also believe, based on my own research, talking to countless people with similar issues online and discussions with my own specialists, that those individuals were pre-disposed to such issues and if it hadn’t been the vaccine that got them, then it would have been something else that eventually caused the symptoms to develop.

There is an under-explored genetic factor to mast cell dysfunction and mast cells can play a role in autonomic failure conditions, like POTS, regardless of whether the person suffers the classic allergic reactions more commonly associated with mast cell dysfunction.

Sometimes, something triggers the immune system the wrong way and that’s the catalyst.

It could be a vaccine, or an otc medication safe enough to give to infants. Sometimes it’s a virus or a bacterial infection. Sometimes you’ll just be chugging along and your genetics decide to hit you with a steel chair. It’s unfortunately just your luck of the draw.

And I understand people get validly frustrated and angry when vaccines do this to them, because they’re doing the right thing to protect themselves. It’s just deeply unfortunate that they had this type of immune response that is poorly understood and unpredictable. My hope is that as mast cell research grows, solutions will be found to help prevent it or at least mediate it.

Personally, in the meantime, I’ll take the risk of the vaccine over what the virus might do to me, but that’s because I’ve seen what “mild” viruses can do to people when their immune system is already primed to self-destruct.

I’ve got friends who caught common colds and haven’t left their beds in years because it caused them to develop ME/CFS so severe they never bounced back. It’s wild all the ways the human body can break without killing us.

If the vaccine was the cause of your POTS, I’m sorry that happened to you. It’s shit when it happens. Hopefully it’s some small solace knowing you’re better protected from HPV and the complications that can arise from it, though I wouldn’t blame you if you’re not there yet. Grieving a chronic and lifelong condition like POTS is a shitty, difficult thing. I wish none of us had to go through it.

[worflesbian]

the worfzia pregnancy plotline is horrendous primarily bc it was tacked on just before jadzia's death in an attempt to make it sadder, equating the worth of a woman's life to her potential to have children, but like even if they hadn't killed her off right after it would still have sucked bc it's so obviously written as the obvious next step after heterosexual marriage and not like, a life-changing decision for two people to make. first of all, worf has already had a child and it went horrendously, his relationship with alexander is rocky and he feels immense guilt about not being there for him in his formative years, and you're telling me him and jadzia had a brief chat about having kids and he was cool with it? once again no one seems to have a looser grasp of worf's storyline than the people who allegedly wrote it. the disparity between his limited experience of parenting and jadzia's several lifetimes worth is also interesting but of course that doesn't come up either. secondly, jadzia's family have almost never been mentioned before, i've seen people theorize that the joining process caused a rift between them as it wouldve been hard to cope with her becoming an almost completely different person - would jadzia's relationship to her own parents not have been pertinent to bring up as she decides to become a parent herself? how does she feel about becoming a mother in this lifetime, now that there's a war on, when presumably all the previous times have been under much stabler circumstances? would anyone bring that up as a concern, what kind of world that child might be born into? how would she react to that? thirdly, julian says that back before she and worf got married he and jadzia discussed this and he told her a trill-klingon pregnancy would be almost impossible, yet she seems determined to make it happen anyway - this is the most in-character part of the whole episode for her imo, because it's very like jadzia to disregard the odds and fight for what she wants, but also, she's literally the science officer, and while biology isn't her number one field it would've at least been interesting for her to bring up her own research on the subject to counter julian's warning.

there's just so much missing from that episode, it feels like a plotline ripped out of some generic soap and pasted onto the characters we know and love, flattening all the things that make them who they are into the vague shape of a random straight couple

[namisweatheria]

I feel like we don't discuss Nami's relationship with gender enough. Her entire character is so deeply informed by being a girl in a male-dominated pirate world and it's so interesting and so worth talking about.

The background creepiness of Bad pirate crews, which are most of them, how they tend to not have any female crew members at all, how they beckon any pretty young woman around to come play with them and join them. It's real bad. It's also like, a totally 2 dimensional portrayal of evil that is reserved for the most background of background characters.

However I think their ubiquity says a lot about how piracy is meant to be perceived by the public in One Piece, and is one of the strongest indicators of how prevalent misogyny is in-world.

It's very normal in One Piece for regular island inhabitants to have never met a Different class of pirate in their life. There's no reason for them to withhold judgement that maybe these pirates won't be like every crew that attacked before, and to wait and judge them by their actions. I mean frankly that would be irrationally weak self-preservation.

There are people who live peacefully under the flags of Yonkos who protect them, and feel loyalty and gratitude to them for it, but that seems to only be thing with very big name pirates. The East Blue, being the weakest and least populated, has no such plethora of powerful people and resulting turf wars.

So. Nami. Is very clearly implied to have never met any Different pirates before. I'm thinking about what that means. About how every group of pirates she stole from were creepy, dangerous men. How she started going out stealing when she was still a young child. How she didn't have a mother anymore to guide her or comfort her. How Arlong would grab her chin inappropriately, talk about her as a "human female", as property, and god knows what else.

How all the men in Arlong's crew treated her patronizingly, pretending they're all friends, teasing her and playing at respect when really not a single one of them ever stuck up for her or hesitated to accuse her of betrayal. Who were always ready to kill her if she refused to cooperate. Who grabbed her and intimidated her when they felt like it.

That's what she had to come back to after a close call with stealing from other predatory men, instead of the relief of home there was a dark, cramped room filled with endless hours of misery and isolation and blood. Where any one of her captors could barge in and demand new maps, work faster, where did you go, you took too long again this time. Endless threats and incursions.

I'm thinking about that her fight scene in Alabasta, where she tumbles and rips off her cape and uses it to catch her enemy's spikes, before leaping to her feet and running out the back door, all in one moment. How it makes her enemy reconsider her and think, "so the girl's not a total novice at fighting after all." What that implies about her experiences as a young thief. The times she wasn't fast or clever enough and had to fight and claw her way out. Why she always carried a staff and a knife. Why she was the only one before Chopper who had any medical knowledge or experience.

You know she was stitching herself up. And the weapons, how do you think she learned to use those? If any of the Arlong Pirates helped her it wasn't out of kindness and it wasn't gentle.

Then I think about Nojiko, and Bellemere's memory, and the only softness in a hard life. How easily Nami connects to every young woman experiencing hardship that she meets. How completely she dismisses the struggles of men unless they mean something to her and are going through something terrible. The way that Nami only has sympathy for women and children is easily noticeable in-text, but it's also something confirmed in those words by the author. And it's clearly because of the life she lived, the men who had all the power and only abused it, who saw her as nothing but a girl to take advantage of, without anyone aside from her sister clearly knowing and caring about any of it.

Nami clearly isn't bitter, she doesn't think the world owes her recompense, on the contrary she knows she is far from the only person in the world to suffer the things she has suffered. She is endlessly reaching out and kind, but only to those that she isn't sure would get help without her. Certainly, before Luffy, Usopp, and Zoro, no man ever reached out a hand to her without an ulterior motive.

I think when she sees a girl in trouble, a girl biting her lip to hold in a scream of grief, a girl running in the woods away from a monster, a girl captured by pirates, she sees someone who no one is coming for. Who no one will stick up for. A person without allies in a world against her. Whether it's actually true in this case or not, she runs straight for that girl anyways every single time.

[taiyouhimerich]

Odysseus first encounter with his future wife🩷

cr by: taiyouhime

tw: just pretty fluff, and only my hcs of this young sweet tooth nightmare (bcz hes so sweet i cant)

YoungKing!Odysseus who has really hard time after he inherited his throne while being very young and obviously so inexperienced in terms of ruling Ithaca even though his father prepared him for this and Athena was still helping him a lot with some of her advice.

YoungKing!Odysseus who keeps being told by all of the councillor that he has to find a proper girl to marry and the future queen of his to rule, and he’s really nervous about it because he’s told every young king in Greece are wooing Helen of Sparta so he’s now full spread ahead to Tyndareus’ kingdom.

YoungKing!Odysseus who has spent several hours at the most boooooring dinner surrounded by all the kings from all over Greece, and he turns out to be the youngest of them all! Like he’s only seventeen and everyone else are at their early twenties at least! And even though he proves himself as mature enough to participate, as great hunter and as cunning dealer, they still call him small and keep dangling his age in front of him!

YoungKing!Odysseus who stomps over the paths through the garden of Tyndareus’ palace into its depths, fuming about another discussion where his, his great and clever words are followed by complementing his intelligence and then goes some “not so bad for youngster” kind of stuff. King of Sparta is not even looking at him while the discussion is about what should be the way of choosing who gets Helen’s hand in marriage, isn’t he worth enough of at least being spoken to only because of his age? He’s the king, he’s a good athlete, he’s intelligent, he’s mature, he’s not worse than any of the other kings, he’s—!

The soft laughter in a distance interrupts his thoughts.

YoungKing!Odysseus who follows the source of this sound just from… curiosity maybe or wanting to leave this nasty feeling behind. He gets to the edge of the garden, reaching a beautiful olive grove. And he sees her, a girl, a very beautiful girl, with her hair done prettily that have wind playing with her locks, surrounded by a group of maids, considering their simple dresses. And then she looks around and meets his eyes and—

Okay. Maybe he’s not mature. Like not at all, because he can tell his face is blushing and his knees are trembling and he feels so little right now because she waves at him with this pretty smile and his heart is beating harder then after training Athena gives him and, and—

He can’t remember what was in between this and him standing in his room at palace of Sparta. YoungKing!Odysseus feels so stupid and weak while he keeps banging his head against his door because heaven strike him he just ran away! He just saw the prettiest girl in his life smiling at him and it was enough to make him flee like a coward!

He used to make fun of Eurylochus’ feelings for his sister, finding it absolutely silly how a strong, hard, bulky warrior can fall in love with a princess at one sight, but now, now YoungKing!Odysseus is sorry for all those words and wants to take all of them back because otherwise he is now blushing like a maiden caught bathing just over some kind of pretty girl who just hardly looked at him once as well….

YoungKing!Odysseus, who gets to embarrass himself even more when she and her father Icarius are attending the next dinner with other kings almost accidentally, and she recognises him and she waves at him again and he can swear she’s giggling and he just wants to run away again and—

But then she leans to Tyndareus to kiss his cheek and says goodbye to her dear uncle, and this is how it hits YoungKing!Odysseus. That she’s a princess and she’s suitable for the councillors of Ithaca to accept her as their future queen and most of all.

He now knows he wants to marry only her.

i gonna make several parts of this im still giggling hehehhee

[birthanon]

Exam in, Baby out

Answering this ask that came through my messages from @yaiofanficbombon2022: 

"The class president is in labour (Mpreg). He had a sexual encounter with the popular boy of the school and as a result of this encounter he is pregnant.

His water breaks at home at night, he wants to miss school, but he can't, so he goes to class anyway.

The contractions are intense and constant, and the baby tries to come out, but he refuses to push until the exam is over.

He ends up giving birth in the school bathroom."

I’ve aged them up to a very high school like college because even 18 yo high school students feel too young to me. Hopefully you don’t mind.

This fic contains: mpreg, birth denial, pushing baby back in, clothing birth

“Hey, pres, you all right?” Jason asked, coming to sit next to Max. 

Max grunted, forcing a smile for the man who was rather popular with the other people at their very small church owned college they both attended, and also the father of the child that was currently trying to expel itself from Max’s womb. They’d had a secret encounter in Jason’s dorm room after a particularly intense study session—and well, they hadn’t repeated said occurrences since then, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friendly. “Fine,” Max managed as the contraction that had been wrapping its way around his belly finally eased off. “Just worried about this exam.”

Specifically, he was worried about passing the final exam of his health class while also managing to keep the kid in him, you know, in him. Particularly since his water had broken last night, and he hadn’t gotten a whole bunch of sleep between the increasingly intense contractions. This was his last final of the semester, though, he just had to pass this test, or at least make it through it, and he was home free. So he’d hobbled his way to class from his dorms. It wouldn’t do for the student president to just not show up to an exam.

“You’re the smart one,” Jason said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Only it doesn’t look like you slept at all.”

“Stayed up all night studying.”

“For health?” Jason asked. “Look man, I know you’re a perfectionist and all that, but no one cares what grade you get in this class. All you gotta do is pass. It’s not worth killing yourself over.”

Max tried to formulate a nonchalant shrug. “Gotta keep that scholarshi—mmmhg.” Another contraction cut him off. He wrapped his fingers around the bottom of the desk and forced all his pain and the screaming desire to push into them instead of downward. Still the contractions were getting insistent. The force of his body pressed the baby’s head against his lips, which began to spread and sting. As soon as the contraction ended, the head slipped back inside, the stinging easing. Still, that wasn’t a good sign. The two hour exam hadn’t even started and the baby was already sitting right behind his lips. 

Jason stared. “Man, you sure you’re good?”

“I’ll survive,” Max said, trying to sound sardonic, though his breathlessness gave him away. Jason didn’t know Max was pregnant. No one did. He’d carried small, and Max was good at hiding his body in shapewear and too big hoodies. If anyone did find out, he’d definitely lose his scholarship, and probably get kicked right out of the school. It had very strict rules about sex outside of marriage, and babies don’t just happen.

Max was saved from further questions from Jason by the professor entering the room and beginning to pass out a massive pile of paper that was the final exam. “You will have one and half hours to do the question and answer portion of the exam,” the professor explained. “Then I will show a video of a live birth. As the university wants you to know how to give birth at home, with prayer and without medical intervention as God intended. You all must know how to give birth. After watching the birth video, you will be required to write a paper discussing what they did correctly and what they could have done better. Understood?”

The class nodded.

“All right then, you may begin. You have an hour and a half.”

Max reached out for the packet, grabbing his pencil and his scantron, eager to go as quickly as possible and get this over with. Two questions in, and his stomach was seizing again. Freed from Jason’s questioning gaze, Max wrapped his hand around his stomach to try and soothe it, feeling it shrink underneath the shapewear he wore. He tried not to push, focusing on breathing deeply and slowly through the pain, but the searing stretch of his nethers continued throughout the contraction nonetheless. 

According to his studies, contractions lasted about 60-90 seconds, so Max counted out the seconds in his head, one hand wrapped tight around his stomach, the other clutching his fragile wooden pencil dangerously tightly.

As soon as the contraction began to ease and the stinging stopped as the baby returned to its place just outside his lips, Max continued with the test. His contractions were coming every two minutes, lasting about a minute. Which means while the rest of his class had an hour and a half to complete the test, he only had an hour. 

The words swum in front of him and he leaned forward to get a better view of the words, curling around his stomach and triggering another contraction. Sitting forward as he was, the hard plastic chair pressed against his lips. Which gave him an idea. Experimentally, he pushed with the urge instead of trying to hold back, grunting softly as he did. The head spread him open, shooting through his stretching lips, and then stopped moving as it struck the chair. Max whined, softly, tapping out of the push early. Except this time, the head didn’t go all the way back in, it stayed at that partial crown, stretching his lips. 

Stealthily, he reached down under his desk and explored the area between his spread legs. A massive bulge of straining jeans was wedged between them, pressed up against the chair.

Max let out a shuddering breath. All right, he thought, as long as I can stay sitting down, we can keep the baby in. And thus the test stretched on, in increments of three minutes, two of answering questions, one of pushing fruitlessly into the hard plastic chair, his wet jeans bagging out with the emerging head. 

Some of the questions were about health, but a lot were about sexual health and reproduction. Labeling the different parts of the birther’s anatomy felt particularly ironic when Max could feel the stretch of so many of them, the diagram a visual reminder of how small everything had been before a baby had been shoved through it.

Another question asked which sex position was most likely to result in successful reproduction, which had him flashback to his room, with Jason leaning over him, his warm chest on Max’s. It brought a blush to his cheeks which led Max to lift his head and glance over at Jason.

Jason had been looking back, his brows wrinkled in concern, but when he caught Max looking, the face changed to a forced smile and a hidden lewd hand symbol. Maybe the test was bringing up memories for him too.

Their moment was broken by another contraction. Max forced his head down, as though he was working on his test, leaning as far forward as he could, his stomach pressing against the bottom of the desk, his crotch against the seat to keep the baby in as his whole body pushed down.

The pain was just letting up when the teacher called for their attention, and put on the birthing video. A woman moaning, crouching, her husband supporting her from behind, praying. Her stomach visibly contracted as Max’s own pain returned. Their contractions had synced up, but while she was naked and pushing freely, he was covered in clothes, unable to push or make progress. Her grunts of effort and cries of pain masked his own moans.

The voice of the camera-person ordered the woman, “Push! Push!”

And having sat at a partial crown for an hour and half, Max couldn’t help but obey, pushing in sync with the woman on screen. He leaned back instinctively, lost in the grasp of instinct. He and the woman pushed, and pushed. The babys’ heads emerged slowly, fighting to stretch out the body and, in Max’s case, force the jeans out of the way.

The woman screamed as her head reached a full crown, losing her crouch and falling backwards, caught by her husband. Max’s own softer exhalation, as his own crown, freed from the confines of the chair, reached its own crown.

The next few pushes were unfruitful. The baby’s head bobbed in the woman’s crotch as Max’s own baby fought against his tight jean crotch and lost. He wasn’t trying to hold back anymore, wasn’t thinking consciously, only knew he needed to push.

Then the head on screen gushed out, followed by the rest of the body in rapid succession, but Max’s was still stuck, no matter how he pushed and grunted. The screen went black. 

“You have twenty minutes to write your essays.”

Max panted, realizing his situation. His hand explored downward, gasping at how large the bulge was, his legs spread apart, his lips screaming in pain, stretched to their fullest, his whole body soaked in sweat.

He could not write, could not focus on writing, but he had to. So, ever so slowly he leaned forward. The head of the baby caught on the chair, then began to be shoved up inside him once more. Max shoved his pencil in his mouth, biting down hard to hold back the scream that threatened to bubble in his throat at the pure agony. 

Another, harsher contraction came, but he weathered it, biting his pencil and pressing himself down against the chair. It faded, and he tried to write. The next contraction was just as bad. His weakened pencil snapped his hand. He whimpered as the head began to emerge once more, stretching him little by little. 

It didn’t seem like he had two minutes of leeway anymore, no matter what their professor had taught. The contractions didn’t seem to end. It hurt so much. He was so sweaty, so confined. The baby was coming out again. He didn’t have the energy to push it against the chair. It was stretching his lips, so wide.

“Time!” The professor called. “Pencils down.”

Max’s pencil was in pieces before him, his essay a mess, his multiple choice portion, not quite complete. But he didn’t care. He had to give birth. He had to get out of there.

The old professor toddled around, collecting tests as Max tried to look normal after having been in active labor for fourteen hours and actively crowning for two. 

He’d had a plan, take the test, go home, give birth in his empty apartment. But as the baby reached a full crown once more, Max knew that wasn’t happening. He would at least make it to the bathroom. It was on the first floor. Max planned his route as the professor said his final goodbyes, and then, finally, finally, fifteen minutes after the test ended, released them. 

Max stayed where he was, unsure how to stand as the rest of the students burst out of the room. Another student stayed and talked to Jason, pulling his attention away from Max.

Now, Max thought. He awkwardly turned in his seat, and removed his hoodie. It revealed his very low belly, curved and sweat-soaked, but he used it to tie around his waist, hiding the massive bulge in his crotch. Then, oh so gently, he leveraged himself to his feet.

Gravity shifted, his jeans loosened a bit, and the baby dropped down just a bit further, the head stretching him wider than he thought possible. Max gasped and swayed, catching himself on his desk. Jason glanced over, clearly concerned, but his conversation partners drew him back in.

Free. Max began to waddle, slowly, awkwardly, out of the classroom. Each step was agony, his jeans jostling the fully crowned head in his pants in and out just a smidge. His exhausted legs trembled, and he kept one hand on the wall to keep himself upright. The stairs were right next to the classroom, the elevator was on the other side of the building. He could either walk the entirety twice (to reach the elevator and then walk all the way back to the bathroom at the base of the stairs), or go down the stairs. He chose the stairs.

He went down two before he realized it was an awful idea. He clung to the railing, his legs forcefully spread around the head, which brushed his thighs each time he maneuvered himself awkwardly down the stairs like a new-born deer.

Finally, red faced, panting, exhausted, he reached the bottom of the stairs and practically fell into the door of the men’s bathroom. A guy at the urinal gave him a look.

“Really gotta. . . go,”  Max panted, then stumbled into the stall and locked the door. He reached immediately for his jeans. His shaking hands fumbled with the belt. As the contraction struck, he crouched naturally, spreading his legs wider, but that only forced the jeans up tighter against his opening, forcing the head further in. 

Finally, the belt gave way, and he began forcing the jeans down. They got caught on his hips. He needed to move his legs together, but another contraction hit, and the baby descended further, its nose stretching him and popping out. The head was touching his thighs. He couldn’t spread his legs further to give it more room with his jeans, he couldn’t get rid of the jeans because of the head.

He was stuck.

Mind frozen with fear and exhaustion, he weathered out several contractions, pushing as hard as he could. But the baby didn’t move. It was stuck. The jeans had to go, but that meant. . . 

He heard speaking over the roar of his ears, but couldn’t make out the words. It was definitely Jason.

But Max could spare him no thought. The baby had to come out. Quivering, Max placed his hand on his baby’s head, feeling its wet hair. He took one deep breath, trying to get oxygen in his panic, then began to push the baby up and back it. 

It was agony. He screamed in pain. The baby kicked in protest. His stomach contracted. In the chaos, he lost his balance, falling to his knees, striking his elbow on the side of the tiny stall. 

Jason was pounding on the stall door. 

Max couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t do anything but give birth. He shucked off his jeans and boxers, spread his legs, and pushed.

The much denied baby shot out, to its ears and Max cried out again. The contraction faded, and he could hear Jason now, asking if Max was okay.

“I’ve cleared the bathroom and put a sign out saying its closed. Tell me what's going on, or I’ll call 911.”

Well, Max would need help getting out of here. And it was just as much Jason’s secret as it was his. With a shaking hand, he reached up and undid the latch, just in time for the next contraction to hit. He pushed, and the baby’s head shot out of him just as Jason flung open the door.

“Holy crap!”

Max gasped, leaning against the toilet, spreading his legs just a bit further. The dirty bathroom tile was cold. It felt good. The baby was turning inside him.

“Is that mine?” Jason asked. That health class did something for him after all.

Max could only nod. 

“Shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Max didn’t have the breath for explanations. “Wanted you safe,” he gasped. “If I was. . . if they did. . .”

Another contraction. He pushed, weakly. The head bobbed forward, but didn’t move. God, he was exhausted.

Jason knelt down beside Max, his health class training coming into play. “How long have you been in labor?”

“Water broke—nngghh—last night.” The head still didn’t move. He was so tired.

“Last night!”

“Head crowned. . . just. . . just before the—” Another contraction. Max pushed with the pain as hard as he could, but the head wasn’t moving.

“Shit, man.”

Another contraction. No progress. Something was catching on his narrow hips. His body wasn’t made for birthing the way a woman’s was. “I think, I think it’s stuck.”

“I got you, give me a moment.” Then Jason left, leaving Max alone, spread wide and bare, a baby head between his legs, on a dirty bathroom floor. He flopped his head back, resting it on the toilet seat. Gross, yeah, but he didn’t have the energy to care any more.

Another fruitless contraction.

Then Jason was back. He crouched down by Max. “this is going to hurt,” he warned. Then he shoved his hand into Max’s crotch alongside the baby’s neck. Max opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He was too tired. The pain was awful, the stretch terrible. Then Jason was fumbling around in there with his whole-ass hand, pulling and tugging. Max’s hips strained. 

Another contraction began, tensing Max’s stomach which was peeking up through his shirt, which had ridden up. 

With the hand that wasn’t currently inside Max, Jason pressed down on Max’s stomach. “Push!” he ordered.

Max pushed. Jason pushed with one hand and pulled with the other. The tension, the pressure built, and built. Max was being torn apart. He was going to die. He was—

Something gave. With a gush, the crying baby shot out into Jason’s waiting hands.

The three of them sat, panting, staring at each other. “I want to raise this baby with you, if you’ll let me,” said Jason. “Only reason I haven’t been with you more is, well, I didn’t want to get us both kicked out. But I think you’re amazing and—”

Max smiled. “You’re pretty good too. Let’s do this.”

[ms-demeanor]

Some people on the left are discussing whether the left is kind enough to me. Especially after the results of the election like lots of men of some demographics voting for Trump. Do you have any thoughts on that? Seems more about women should be nicer to men in some people’s opinions. And I am not sure about this discourse

i think that the social atomization that contributes to the radicalization of young men also contributes to, like, tradwifery and the radicalization of young women so I think that people are looking at a deep systemic issue with a shallow lens.

I don't think this is so much an issue of people being "nice" but of spaces making people feel *valued.*

The right-wing space full of toxic masculinity where people call disaffected young men "brother" isn't comforting just because people call you brother, it's because they're framing disaffected young men as valuable members of society who have been dismissed and degraded by the left. It tells them they're important and have worth and are necessary for the future of the world just because of who they are.

Of course they're getting called pussies and cucks and are being bullied in that space, but they're also being told that if they perform a certain standard of masculinity they are the future of their nation/race/species/family/etc. The toxicity of that space isn't something that makes them question their value, or whether or not they're a good person, or if they have something to offer the world. It is something they endure to prove that they are a member of the in-group, and that they belong, and that they do have value and are a good person.

So, there are people dunking on that post because it does kind of read like "i was almost eaten up by the alt right because women weren't nice enough to me" and to an extent i think that it was ungracefully worded. But i also think that it's addressing something that a lot of people feel in a lot of political spaces.

I do not think that whatever the hell we consider "the mainstream left" in America is particularly welcoming to anybody. I think that it very superficially values diversity while not actually valuing people. I think that it says "You are important! And that's why I need you to donate three dollars to my campaign to prevent the Republicans from harming [your identity group]! I am asking for your help as a senator, a mother, and a person who wants to defeat my opponent in two to four years."

I think that what a lot of people are looking for is not acceptance or niceness but is a community and i'm not at all surprised that people feel like they're not getting that from democrats/the mainstream left/whatever.

I mean. My real response to this is:

I don't think that the *actual* issue is that men don't feel welcomed by "the left," I definitely don't think the issue is women being insufficiently nice to men, I think the issue is that all of us are little cogs in a capitalist machine and actually there's very little out there that is saying to anyone "you are worth more than your productivity."

And it turns out that people will put up with huge amounts of abuse if the abuser makes them feel like they belong. People getting sucked into the alt-right pipeline because it is "nice" to them are exactly analogous to people who get sucked into cults because the cult provides community and affirmation and a sense of belonging.

Anyway, I am once again and as always begging people to put together or join any kind of at-least monthly meetup based on your specific interests. Start a radio club. Start a quilting circle. Put together a free store at the park once a month. Literally join a drum circle. Participate in a community garden. Start a walking club with your neighbors. Go to events at the library on weekends.

As a side note: there absolutely are lefty spaces that function by making people feel worthless or feel like bad people. They tend to have high turnover, short lifespans, and explosive fallout. These are shitty spaces and if your participation in a space is primarily motivated by some combination of guilt and self-flagellation, you should leave that space.

[creatingblackcharacters]

"Calling Out Racists? Help!"

(shout out to the situation sender who's chosen to remain anonymous!)

NOTE: People of color, if you feel that your efforts would be in vain or cause more pain than it's worth, I fully respect not doing it. I've been there, and tbh I usually don't. But white netizens, I expect boots on the ground. Racism festers when no one does anything about it.

So, it's finally happened! You've come face to face with antiblackness in your fandom space. You never thought it could be this bad! Naturally YOU don't condone this behavior, so you take steps to remove yourself from this person.

However! Your friends and other fans are still happily sharing from someone that you KNOW is capable of this. Would they still be comfortable knowing they're yapping amongst racists? And then you wonder- should I tell everyone about them? I mean, surely everyone should know?

Thus we've come to the decision:

The Callout

In my honest opinion, callouts are morally neutral. When used to reveal consistent harmful beliefs, intentions, and behaviors to other people, usually of marginalized identities, I think they're critical. Our safety and humanity matters far more than someone's internet fame. If I can't stop someone from being a racist, I at least don't want their vitriol on my dash, and I ALSO don't want people thinking I agree! Racism shouldn't be tolerated at all, but unfortunately, many an antiblack racist has a popular following and will not be removed. Anything less overt than a slur like the example above is more often than not, not a dealbreaker for many.

On the other hand, when it is maliciously weaponized to drag someone down on nothing but hearsay and rumor, it can be devastating. It has often been used as retaliation against those very same marginalized peoples to shut down discussions of racism and other forms of bigotry. In my opinion, you should not do these sorts of things when you don't have any solid proof or an actual education on what you're talking about. Period.

I say that all to say, be intentional. Use your discernment and some critical thinking.

How Ice Deals With It

Let's say you see something that concerns you. First, you need to pay attention to if other Black fans have noted this person's behavior. Has it been previously noticed, have they seen dogwhistles you've completely missed? Keep in mind as well, antiblackness does not have to come from a white person. Don't let "I'm brown" fool you.

If you're confident: confront the person on the particular issue you've noticed.

‼️‼️‼️ For the maintenance of your mental health, you CANNOT go into this expecting to change someone's mind and behavior. If you do, 9/10 you will face demoralization. You cannot walk into these thinking they care. Most people don't, and will deny the harm of their behavior. It sucks, but it's the truth. Change your perspective. The only goal you need to have is pointing out the harm done, so that this person loses the excuse to be racist out of "ignorance". Once you've spoken up, ball's now in their court.

Confrontation doesn't have to be negative! It can be as simple as "hey, what you said was not okay, here's why, and I hope that you can learn from this to do better for yourself and for your fans." Simple, to the point.

‼️Keep in mind, from Fans of Color: the private confrontation is a sign that we're trying to give you a chance to do right. Everyone's not going to receive that grace, nor do I expect every fan of color to offer it. It might just be up with you and your racism that day. 🤷🏾‍♀️ I would take the chance if offered.‼️

We're going to go two routes here.

1) It works

If it works, then what should come next is 1) a full acknowledgment of the violence and harm, 2) visible steps to ameliorate that harm, and 3) an apology to those harmed.

It doesn't have to be a complex apology (unless the situation itself was that large). But it has to be genuine and the change needs to be seen.

Very often you'll see apologies for antiblackness... To white fans. You cannot apologize for your actions to people who were not harmed by them, because they are not the ones with the right to accept the apology!!!! It's not a real apology. They've just covered for being exposed, is all. Be willing to hold each other accountable!

2) It doesn't work

This might still happen after the "it works", btw! Some people genuinely just want the appearance of progressiveness.

Here's where it gets gritty and you'll experience the most discomfort, I'm just being honest:

They might fucking suck!

They might suck, they might make it a point to share with their followers that you suck, and those same followers might also suck! You know how they sound? Like those people who fought for rapist Brock Turner because "he had a good future and this shouldn't ruin it". Yeah.

Recognize that this backlash you may experience from strangers is not coming just from their need to be entertained, but from a realization that if their fave is antiblack and they agree, then THEY are being antiblack too.

That acute pain you're feeling from this effort- you're now feeling a part of the chronic pain that is being a Black fan! And if you're white, you just temporarily sacrificed your whiteness to defend what was right, and now you are seeing a piece what that whiteness shields you from. Idk how else to put it.

Now what?

Well first, this shouldn't make you go "oh well there's no point in fighting racism bc they're so mean." Why do you want to identify with the people who just acted like that lmao. Antiracism is hard, but the right thing isn't always easy. Stand up and dust yourself off, soldier.

Take the steps to protect yourself. That might be a break from socials to decompress. Block people as necessary, use the tag blocker thing.

Recognize that you are not in the wrong for wanting this harm to be accounted for. If this person didn't want to be seen as a willful racist, they should have chosen to do better. They didn't want to, they chose to triple down on their racism, which they are now aware of doing! They just don't care. And that's not within your control. They wanna be a racist, let them be treated like one!

"Curate your space" as they say, and recognize that antiblackness is going to have you potentially removing folks you thought were cool left and right. You might see some people close to you show their true colors. It's time to make some tough personal decisions. I can't walk you through that. But I don't want to be around people who treat antiblackness with apathy, because birds of a feather... 👀

I obviously didn't cover every single scenario here. And this is only *my* way of dealing with these things (if I do at all, anymore). Some folks may go about it differently. But yeah, in summary, go in to point the racism out, and don't let the response determine your self value. 👍🏾

[bangtanintotheroom]

The Look (M)

You gon' give me that look, look, look, look-look

You don't have to tell me that it's mine

When you give me that look, look, look, look-look

You said everything with just your eyes

🔊 the look - ali gatie, kehlani (spotify | soundcloud) 🔊

• Pairing: Seonghwa x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff, Smut

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 16.1k

• Summary: You’ve been perfectly normal since sleeping with Seonghwa that one night. You haven’t been thinking about him more than necessary. And you definitely haven’t been fighting the urge to voice these dangerous thoughts inside your head. You were perfectly fine…

• Warnings/themes: pining, acknowledging feelings, a very necessary discussion, drinking, swearing, jealousy, crying, OC is struggling, Hwa is just… 🫠💕, making out, grinding, oral (m. and f. receiving), face-fucking, c*me swallowing, face-sitting, squirting, fingering, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, praise, body worship, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple positions, cuddles, aftercare

• Notes: C'mon guys; did you really think I was gonna just leave these two alone after what went down in part 1? 😏 And I am SO sorry for how long this took to come out, writing doesn't come to me as easily nowadays, so I have to take it slow and steady. I at least hope this was worth the wait 💕 and shoutout to @sweetinsaniiity for the beta! 🥰

• Taglist: @minttangerines @minisugakoobies @kiestrokes @hyunjinsjeans @chngbnwf @syubseokie @marsstarxhwa @trivia-134340 @suluhwa @prodsh00ky @potatomountain @am3thyst-rose @tea4sykes @fancypeacepersona @ashlv @miksancheese

Make Me Water | The Look

You couldn’t step outside any sooner.

As soon as the glass door behind you slid closed and muffled the music and voices inside, you took a large gulp of air.

When you entered the party over two hours ago, you didn’t expect to be feeling like your emotions had been going through the wringer.

Jongho sent a group text out late last week, asking if everyone was up for a get-together Saturday night. The catch was that he planned to invite more than usual, a mix of familiar faces and strangers. No one objected, looking forward to the break from the usual small gatherings.

You took a rideshare with Sakura to Jongho’s place, Ningning already there since early that morning. This info only fueled you and your friend’s speculation on the drive, wondering whether there was something going on between the two.

Just as you pulled up outside, you spotted a familiar car parked ahead– one that opened its doors and revealed just who was occupying it. But it wasn’t all of the four men stepping out that froze you from getting out.

No, it was the one coming from the passenger side, clad in a black leather jacket and jeans that emphasized his long, slender legs.

You knew from the jump that Seonghwa was coming to the party, but every time you saw him or even thought of him, your stupid heart flipped in on itself. This had been happening ever since the two of you conducted the ‘experiment’ at his place last month. While the immediate results were successful, what occurred afterwards was not ideal.

Something was wrong. But when did it happen, was what you had been asking yourself.

It wasn’t when you decided to spend the night at his place after the deed was done, feeling too tired to drive home, nor was it when you helped him change his sheets, flopping on playfully after taking a shower. Did it happen while you used the last bit of your energy to watch your friend pull the weeds around his village?

No.

Those were all normal occurrences between the two of you. Nothing different.

Even waking up in the morning to the smell of Seonghwa making breakfast was nothing new. If it was your place instead, the roles would be reversed. You trudging out to see him bent over a cutting board didn’t hit you with a sense of unfamiliarity. Everything seemed fine at the moment.

But looking back now, maybe it wasn’t all simple.

You remembered pausing in your stride when Seonghwa’s voice greeted you, still raspy from sleep. The gravel was a reminder of what was whispered into your ears the previous night. Even though you shook the warm feeling off and continued approaching him, it returned when you helped with prep. Every time your fingers or shoulders brushed, tingles would travel down your spine. It got to the point where you nearly sliced your finger off when cutting up some fruit, prompting Seonghwa to lightly scold you and ask you to sit and leave the work to him.

All you could do was watch from the table, head spinning at whatever the fuck was going on with you that morning. But you figured it was a temporary slip that would get better after a few days.

Oh, how you were so wrong.

Every moment you spent around Seonghwa, whether it be one on one or with your group, all you could think about was him.

It wasn’t just limited to inappropriate thoughts, like picturing his head between your legs or his lean body above you, fucking you nice and slow. It would also be more modest daydreams, like holding his hands as you walk down the street or cuddling in bed.

Either way, they were messing you up. Badly.

It didn’t help that the two of you had to play it cool in front of the others, unaware of what went down. To them, nothing had changed between you guys and it was imperative that they still kept that view. God knows what kind of chaos could ensue if any of them found out. Especially Wooyoung.

But your stupid emotions just kept causing problems.

Sleeping with him unleashed something that you tried to shove deep down for a while.

A feeling that started…well, you’re not quite sure when. All you know is that you found yourself asking if there was a chance.

A chance of something more than what the two of you currently had.

Or were you just being delusional? Sex alone didn’t always equal romantic feelings; you knew this, able to have physical relationships without that issue. But that was with anyone…and this wasn’t just any regular person.

This was Seonghwa.

He was…someone special.

Someone who you could see yourself being with, no hesitation. But did he feel the same way?

Probably not.

Especially with how many options he had in partners; why bother with you when he could chase after anyone else?

A lump started to form in your throat as you stared out into the faint city lights.

There was already one person here tonight that was interested in pursuing him and it was shaping up to be a success, much to your dismay.

Sakura had brought her roommate, Karina, as her plus one, introducing her to everyone with enthusiastic flourish.

You could see why, the woman being striking with her long, raven hair, full lips that easily stretched into a smile and the mole beneath said cushions. You swore that a couple of the other partygoers stumbled over their hellos, Mingi included as he tried not to spill his overflowing drink as they shook hands. The playful pinch and coo you gave him was followed by a grumble before he stomped away with reddened ears.

Karina blended into the festivities easily, eventually ending up on one of the loveseats with you, Sakura and a tipsy Ningning that decided to plop on your lap.

“Okay, I take back what I said this morning.”

“Oh? What was it exactly that you said?” teased Sakura.

Karina rolled her eyes at her roommate’s purposefully dense tone. “That you were going to be dragging me to a boring party when I could be at home watching my cooking shows.”

Sakura grinned like a devil, leaning into her and wiggling. “See?! I make good decisions sometimes!”

“Sometimes, being the key word, “ your quip was followed by a hand coming up to bat at your nose, yelping with laughter as you leaned back from the offender.

“Aish, Sakura, you almost made me fall!” whined Ningning as she tightened her arms around your shoulders.

“Girl, that’s your own fault. There’s plenty of room on the couch, sit!”

“No—” Her petulant rebuttal came with a press of her burning cheek to yours. “—Y/N is comfier.”

You chuckled, giving her upper back a gentle rub. “I appreciate the compliment, Ning, even if my legs are starting to fall asleep.”

The subtle comment seemed to go completely over the inebriated girl’s head as she simply beamed and snuggled into you further. While the four of you continued to converse, you noticed how Karina kept looking off in a certain direction every so often, lingering for a few seconds before returning to the group. This action didn’t escape Sakura, squinting her eyes as she poked her friend.

“And just what has your eyes wandering off like that, missy?”

Karina’s shoulders straightened as she now donned a sheepish smile.

“Oh…just looking around.”

“Uh huh…”

Clearly, Sakura didn’t believe her as she started putting two and two together while staring off wherever the other was looking. This prompted you and Ningning to look as well with curiosity, landing on a small group of men hanging out by the entrance to the kitchen.

“Mm, looks like someone is taking in her options tonight.”

“Oh?”

Sakura’s observation seemed to be on point as Karina became even more timid.

“And just who are we looking at?” You playfully interrogate.

There were four candidates talking and laughing on the other side of the room; Wooyoung, Mingi, his roommate Jisung and Seonghwa. All good options.

“Well…it’s…um, shoot.”

“What?”

“I forgot his name.”

“Hm?”

Ningning leaned forward and pointed towards the group. “Which one?”

Sakura smacked her hand down in panic. “Pabo, don’t point, you’ll make it obvious!”

“Ow! Abuse!”

Shaking your head, you patted Ningning’s back to calm her down before giving Karina an apologetic grin.

“Please excuse her, she’s a silly drunk. Just narrow it down and we’ll tell you his name.”

The woman gave you an appreciative look before peeking at the group again. “The tall, slender one in the leather jacket. With the short black hair.”

All three of you became quiet, glancing at each other with astonished expressions, especially you. She was eyeing up—

“Seonghwa?”

Karina nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Mhm.”

You continued to watch her, feeling a hint of…something. Not sure what it was, you push it aside and gaze at the object of your own affections, lips twitching as he threw his head back and laughed at whatever madness Wooyoung said.

“Okay, Karina, I see you!” teased Sakura as she slyly elbowed her roommate, resulting in a push from her.

“Don’t tease me, Sakura!”

“Hey, hey, no teasing on my end, for once.”

“Seriously—” Ningning smiled encouragingly. “—you have good taste! Ah, not like the others aren’t good choices too!”

The flub made all four of you laugh and you forgot about the odd sensation that was brewing in favor of the sudden humor.

“He’s gorgeous, can you blame me?”

A small smile graced your face as you replied, “No, not at all.”

You weren’t bothered by Karina looking Seonghwa over, really. It was human nature to take in the appearance of someone as stunning as him, whether you wanted to or not. You did something of the sort the first time you had met your friend, often doing glances out of the corner of your eye as your brain tried to comprehend how a man like him existed in real life.

It still stumped you, to this day.

Thinking that the gossip was over, you brought your cup up to sip before coming up with another topic to speak on.

“He’s not seeing anyone, is he?”

Until that question made you halt suddenly, spilling some of the liquid onto your chin.

“Or maybe—” Karina gazed at all three of you individually. “—he’s spoken for by one of you?”

Sakura was swift to scrunch her nose and shake her head, her blonde waves smacking her cheeks.

“God no, that’d be like dating my brother!”

Ningning responded to the look with her own rejection, peach-colored lips in a large pout.

“Nope. I’ve…got my eye on someone else.”

And then there was you.

You had to remain calm while staring into Karina’s dark eyes, but it was suddenly difficult. It was like she had thrown ice water on you with that inquiry. It woke you up to the truth of just what your standing was with Seonghwa.

Well…he wasn’t yours.

The two of you may have pleasured each other and whispered lustful words that one night, but after you left his place, it was back to just being friends. No acknowledgment of what occurred. No requests to have a repeat. Just platonic affection. Just…back to normal.

He was not yours.

You had to spend the last month acting like you never played the encounter in your head on repeat both around him and when you were alone. You kept your cool and remained nonchalant as his fingers flew over his controller, despite wanting to feel them all over your body again. And you smiled and pretended to be happy for him when he had a couple of dates, having to swallow your guilt at the happiness you felt when they didn’t work out and you had to reassure him that he’d be successful one day.

Successful with someone that wasn’t you.

He was not fucking yours.

Trying not to let the sudden wave of sadness drown you, you replied smoothly, “He’s a free agent.”

Karina seemed to take this as a green light, watching Seonghwa with a sharper eye.

“I see…”

After that, you tuned out the encouragement Sakura and Ningning were giving her, not really wanting to participate in fake behavior. You were ready to chug the rest of your drink, only to find nothing but a few drops scattered inside the plastic.

Dammit. You needed another one. Now.

“Excuse me, Ning.”

Your gentle push of your friend made her scoot off your lap, allowing you to stand up. Giving your slightly numb legs a moment to recover, you were quick to make your way to the kitchen, inevitably passing the group hanging out nearby. You tried not to make eye contact with Seonghwa, knowing he’d catch on to your mood change and ask what was going on. Luckily, he was deep into a conversation with Jisung, only noticing you were walking by at the last second before he was approached by another partygoer.

The kitchen became your safe zone for a moment, letting out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“Y/N, buddy!”

A thick arm wrapped around your shoulders before you were face to face with a ruddy-cheeked Jongho.

“Welcome to the kitchen!”

His slurred yet endearing words managed to crack a tiny smile from you, giving his head a pat in acknowledgment.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome! Oh, is Ningning still over there?”

Before he even finished, he looked through the half-window to eagerly search for said girl through the small crowd.

“She sure is. Why don’t you go get her? I think my legs will need to be amputated if she continues to sit on them.”

Like the fourth of July, the younger man’s face lit up. “Oh no, we can’t have that! I’ll go take over and be her personal cushion!”

Jongho released you and speed-walked out of the room, leaving you to blink rapidly at the brief encounter. Something about those two raised flags for you, but you were a little too in your feelings tonight to investigate.

You schooled your face into a neutral expression as you approached Wooyoung, mixing some kind of brew in a large punch bowl.

“Woo.”

He glanced up from his concoction to grace you with a cheeky grin. “Hey you! Having fun?”

The time of your fucking life.

“Mhm. What’s that?”

Wooyoung hummed playfully as he continued stirring, “Just playing chemist right now. The last time I made this, everyone who drank it got wild!”

“Wild, huh?” You muttered as you watched the liquid swirl around.

It might be just what you needed right now.

Holding out your empty cup, you answered his surprised expression with a firm, “Fill me up.”

The shock was quick to turn into giddiness.

“Ohoho, someone’s being adventurous tonight! Coming right up!”

As he used the ladle to pour, you had a sneaking suspicion that you would regret this in the morning.

Right now though?

This was your temporary savior.

You couldn’t decide whether Wooyoung needed to stay away from bartending or keep up at it as you were only halfway through your drink and feeling a hard buzz.

Even though buzz was putting it lightly.

Your entire body was on the verge of overheating, eyelids heavy and fingers and toes vibrating as you stumbled through the apartment. At least you weren’t the only one suffering the effects, having heard retching as you passed by the closed bathroom door.

But the upside of this was that right now, you couldn’t give a single fuck.

You only focused on going wherever your feet led you, shooting smiles to familiar faces, even if some of them looked a little blurry. There was a gaggle of dancing going on by the TV, the occupants moving to the song blaring out of the Bluetooth speaker. The alcohol gave you the strength to join them, hoping it would keep you from falling asleep.

Except a warm, strong hand wrapped around your bicep, halting your stride.

With a frown, your head whipped to the side (ooh, too fast), vision fuzzy for a second as you landed on whoever grabbed you.

…oh crap.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

Seonghwa’s voice was calm yet concerned, his eyes looking you over with scrutiny. He could probably tell how far gone you were right now.

“Of course I am. I’m at a party. I’m having fun.”

Your drawl didn’t mean to come out like that, internally wincing at the taken aback reaction he had to your sarcasm.

“Wooyoung said you had some of his rum punch…you do know how strong that stuff is, don’t you?”

God, why did he have to be so caring? It made you want to kiss him silly, but push him away at the same time.

Clicking your tongue, you went for the latter, albeit gently. “I do, which is why I had it. Why aren’t you drinking it?”

Your brain didn’t realize until it was too late that you poked his nose, receiving a humored scrunch.

“Because I want to make it home in one piece. Just promise me you’ll drink some water soon, okay?” stated Seonghwa.

“Yes mother.”

With that, you continued on your journey to the makeshift dance floor, unaware of the gaze still on your figure.

As soon as you approached them, Ningning was quick to spot you and pull you in by your hand, sandwiching your body between her and Sakura.

“Has Hell frozen over? You’ve actually come to dance?”

You laughed at your friend’s stunned yet giddy declaration, leaning back onto her. “Yup! Come on, show me what you can do!”

With that, the next few moments had you in a daze, the alcohol warming your veins and clouding your mind as you writhed against the group of bodies. It was mainly you and the girls dancing on each other, occasionally joined by a sloshed Mingi or a whooping Wooyoung, resulting in you nearly pissing yourself laughing.

This was what you deserved.

To not think about your jumbled emotions and the source of them. It was going to be a problem for another day.

But then you looked up and froze as you realized that you were being watched closely.

By Seonghwa, of all people.

He was leaning against a wall on the other side of the room, laser-focused on the way you grinded on Sakura. It was hard to tell what he was thinking about the scene, face impassive as he had one hand in his jacket pocket and the other holding a drink.

You were going to shake it off and return to dancing until you studied him closer and realized just how he was looking at you.

The way his eyes were fixated on you brought you back to that fateful night in his bed. How he gazed at you whenever his fingers were deep inside or his cock was pounding away at you. The clear memory of it brought a pang of arousal to your lower half, but it was only made worse by what Seonghwa did next.

That motherfucker ran that sinful tongue of his over his plush lips. Slowly. While staring into your eyes.

Godammit.

Needing to escape before you did something you might regret, you sped off towards the hallway, quickly throwing a ‘be right back’ to your dancing companions. Thank goodness the bathroom door was open this time, allowing you to jump inside and shut it behind you. Leaning against the wood and closing your eyes, your head spun as you realized how much that simple look affected you.

Your heart hammered beneath your ribcage and your chest rose and fell rapidly while you tried to calm down. You were drunk. You were drunk and yet you still let him get to you.

You were a mess.

At some point, a knock sounded on the door before you heard a voice asking to hurry up so they could relieve themselves. You were sitting on the plush bathtub rug as you tried to get your bearings, not realizing how long you had been in here. Swallowing hard, you pulled yourself up on unsteady legs. Exiting the bathroom and shooting the waiting person an apologetic smile, you made your way back into the festivities.

The dancing crew seemed to break up a bit by now, spotting a few of them gathered around the coffee table with Uno cards scattered. Judging by the scowls on Wooyoung and Sakura’s flushed faces as they yapped at each other, the game was starting to get intense.

You took advantage of this large view to wander around the room with your eyes, only stopping when they landed on two specific people.

Seonghwa stood with Karina in the kitchen smiling and conversing, visible through the partial window.

The sight alone made your stomach turn a little, but what you saw next almost made your dinner come back up.

The woman placed her hand on the arm of his leather jacket, leaning up to whisper something into his ear. Something that made Seonghwa’s eyes widen before he shot her a bashful smile.

Of course.

She’s making her move.

Like you told her, he was a free agent. Meaning you had no right to get upset over watching them flirt.

But you were. You were upset and it hurt to see someone taking an opportunity that you wanted for yourself.

You couldn’t watch this anymore.

And so you were out on this balcony alone, trying to hold yourself together over a man you had no claim on…and failing miserably.

The more you went back on it, the larger the lump got and the blurrier your vision became. And it wasn’t from the liquor.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You were so fucking screwed.

The sound of the sliding door opening from behind made you straighten up and whip your head around, only for your heart to both swell and sink at who it was.

“There you are!”

Seonghwa closed the door as he stepped out, the onslaught of laughter from indoors being silenced again.

“I didn’t see you around for a moment and got worried.”

Clearing your throat, you asked, “Did you think I left?”

He shrugged, standing next to you now. “No, just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Despite your conflicted emotions, you couldn’t hold back from smiling shakily at his concern. “Thanks. I’m fine, I just…wanted some fresh air.”

Seonghwa nodded in understanding, mirroring your previous position and resting his chin on one of his fists.

“Understandable. I think Sakura and Wooyoung are getting a little too into Uno.”

Remembering how the duo started swapping insults over a stacked draw four made you shake your head.

“Well, if there’s blood when we go back in, we know what happened.”

After he gave a hum, it was quiet, save for the sounds of cars passing by on the street and the occasional pedestrian. It was funny, really. How his presence could calm yet stir you up, trying to keep your composure steady.

Your warring thoughts were interrupted when you felt a nudge to your shoulder, looking down to see Seonghwa pushing his head into you.

“Y/N~”

His drawn out call of your name couldn’t help but make you giggle a bit.

“Someone’s feeling good.”

“Sure am,” Seonghwa smiled playfully, giving you another nudge.

Receiving an endearing grin only lowered your guard even further. “Seonghwa, did you drink something else?”

“Mhm, Karina grabbed me another.”

And just like that, the walls were back up.

“Oh…”

Your flat reply preceded you turning your head to look out again, remembering just why you came out here in the first place.

“…are you alright?” Seonghwa asked.

Not at all.

“I am. Just…that rum punch is getting to me a little.”

You hoped that would be the end of it, but no. His hand came up to gently rub your upper back, sending a torrent of sensations through you.

“Do you want some water?”

“No, no, I’ll be fine. Thank you, Hwa,” you shook your head, rejecting his offer.

A short period of silence occurred before long fingers came up to cradle your chin and turn your head in his direction, giving you an expression that was a complete 180 from before.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Nothing but sheer sincerity was in his dark eyes. It was a familiar sight.

But then your alcohol-influenced brain remembered that those same eyes had gazed at you with such hunger that one night.

Godammit.

The reminder made you shiver visibly, causing Seonghwa to straighten his posture, immediately removing his leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders. He must have thought you were cold.

Too sweet.

“Thank you...” you smiled tightly.

“Mhm,” he nodded. “It is getting a bit chilly out here. Maybe we should go back inside.”

A bolt of panic shot through you. Going back in would mean allowing him to run into Karina again. Who knows what will happen this time?

The way you should’ve reacted was to calmly divert him from that, encouraging him to spend some more one on one time with you.

Not grab his damn wrist like a loon.

The sudden action had Seonghwa’s eyes widening in bewilderment, not used to this sort of reaction from you. Realizing your misstep, you swiftly released him, cradling your hands to your chest with mortification.

“I-I’m sorry…”

You couldn’t look at his face right now. The crack on the floor of the balcony seemed a lot more intriguing instead.

“Y/N…are you feeling alright?” Seonghwa frowned.

Great, now he sounded worried. Idiot, Y/N, idiot!

“I am…I am,” you stuttered.

That didn’t come out as nonchalant as you expected, a wobble in your tone as you tried to compose yourself. Looking through the glass door, the bright lights and liveliness of the party seemed to be more appealing than the current awkward situation.

Adopting a chipper inflection, you turned towards the festivities and offered, “You’re right, why don’t we go back inside? The temperature is starting to drop.”

But just as you were about to reach for the handle, long fingers wrapped around your own with a bit of force.

The action startled you, glancing up to see Seonghwa scrutinizing you…hard.

“Wh-What is it?” You stammered, avoiding eye contact.

“Something’s bothering you.”

His blunt response had your hackles raising as alarm bells began ringing in your head. Your friend wasn’t wrong, at all, but this was not a topic you wanted to discuss with him right now. Especially on the balcony of a house party.

“No, there’s not.”

Your defensive reply only made his thick brows knit, clearly not believing you.

“Y/N.”

The firmness in your name made your stomach turn a bit, the feeling that he wouldn’t let this go so easily was starting to take a hold. Shaking your hand from his, you made a start for the door again, only to have his lean figure stand in your way. A curse of frustration left your lips lowly at his action.

Damn his stubborn, pretty ass!

“Seonghwa, let me—“

“No.”

Now you could hear and see the irritation, your heart skipping as his expression turned into a borderline scowl before he crossed his arms.

“If you think I’m going to allow you to go back in there like this, you’re out of your mind. I’m not letting you in until you tell me what’s wrong.”

You tried, tried to protest again, but your words died the longer he stared you down. He meant it; no way in hell were you going inside without airing your grievances. If the two of you were staying on this balcony all night long, then so be it.

The realization made you sigh heavily, bringing your hands up to hold your face as you tried to keep your cool. For a moment, nothing was said until Seonghwa’s now softer voice came out.

“Is everything alright?”

You moved your hands so he could hear you. “No, it’s not.”

You uncovered your face, revealing an expression that projected the troubles that had been plaguing you for the last month. Strong enough to make Seonghwa’s stare diminish.

“I don’t know what to do, Seonghwa. Ever since we…had sex, I feel like something changed,” you admitted.

He looked somewhat confused as he asked, “In…in what way?”

The wryest of smiles graced your lips. “Depends on how you look at it.”

The other bit his bottom lip, looking even more concerned now. “I…just talk to me, Y/N.”

Something told you that your friend was ready to listen close, so you mustered up every millimeter of courage to begin.

“It’s like…every time I’m around you, I’m feeling conflicted.” You directed your gaze to his neck, not having the guts to look into his eyes just yet. “Whether we’re with friends or one on one, I…I get distracted.”

“How so?”

You swallowed the pebble sitting in your throat. “I, well…I keep thinking about that night.”

Seonghwa made a humming sound, crossing his arms. “When we…”

You finished his sentence with a ‘yeah’.

“What exactly do you think about?”

He wasn’t going to make this easy for you, was he?

Fighting the urge to jump off the balcony, you forced yourself to make eye contact with him now.

“…everything.”

When your friend raises a brow in question, you continue, “How…how you managed to prove me wrong. How you took care of me. How…good you made me feel.”

That last part made something in his expression shift, but it was only for a split second. “Is it bothering you?”

“It…is, but not in the way you think…”

With the look of confusion on his face, the dam was released and you just…spilled.

“You know, I’ve always felt…something towards you. But I didn’t want to pursue it. I was always terrified that it would fuck up whatever we already had going on.”

The slight tic in Seonghwa’s face was missed as you peered down at your shoes.

“But then you came to me with that offer and I couldn’t resist…I thought it would be okay to indulge. I can do this with no strings attached, right?” Your nervous laughter quickly dissolved into a stressful sigh. “I guess I bit off more than I could chew.”

Understatement of the century right there.

“Do you regret it?”

His question came out cautiously, almost as if he was afraid of your answer.

“That’s the thing…I don’t.”

Something seemed to shift in the night air when you said that…or maybe you were just imagining things. But you continued to express your thoughts without missing a beat.

“If I went back to that night when I asked you to show me what you know, I wouldn’t take it back. I—”

You clasped your hands and watched your fingers twiddle as you murmured, “—I had such an amazing time.”

“But that’s not the main problem, is it?”

Seonghwa’s directness caused you to wince, shaking your head while still looking down.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t be even out here on this stupid balcony if it was as simple as that,” you admitted with a bite to your tone. All of a sudden, a small but strong wave of frustration overcame, making you stomp your foot and let out a disgruntled curse.

“Godammit. It was just supposed to be sex, that’s all! A fun night together! So why…”

And as quickly as it came, the flames died down into cold ashes, leaving you in a state of despair as you lamented, “Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”

If Seonghwa had anything to say at that moment, you wouldn’t let him as everything began to spill out once again.

“I can’t even say it was just the sex, it’s way past that at this point. Do you know how hard it is to hold myself back when you’re around? I keep wanting to hold your hand or kiss you or…well, have a repeat of that night.”

Now you had to get to the crux of what pushed you to get some space outside.

“But then I kept seeing Karina with you tonight and it reminded me that we’re just friends and nothing more. Who am I to stop you from seeing other women, right?”

A bitter laugh came out.

“Even though we were hanging out most of the time, I tried to convince myself that she wouldn’t be a good match for you. That’s how bad I have it for you, Hwa; I’m making up things that aren’t true about this girl who’s been nothing but nice to me the whole night.”

“Y/N.”

“And it’s so stupid because she doesn’t deserve that and you’re single and allowed to see whoever you want, but every time I looked over, I got so upset and wanted to tell her to get away from you.”

“Y/N.”

“Even getting borderline drunk didn’t help, I couldn’t stop thinking about it until I came out here. Maybe I should have just gone home, this is all too much for me to—”

“Y/N!”

A small shout of your name was what broke your string of words, finally whipping your head up to take notice of Seonghwa.

Specifically the guilt-ridden expression he donned.

“You...this is what’s been bothering you?”

All you could manage was an unsteady nod, lips pursed and trembling.

“Shit. Come here.”

His gentle invitation came in the form of his arms opening, waiting for you to step into them. You wasted no time in doing so, pressing your face into his shoulder, inhaling his signature scent mixed with laundry detergent. Seonghwa’s arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace, a hand coming up to rub your back in comfort. The motion alone caused the back of your eyes to begin burning.

“Y/N…I’m so sorry that you’ve been feeling this way. I didn’t think it was going to affect you that much.”

You felt his nose press into your temple before he whispered, “I wish you told me earlier.”

Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you stammered, “I…I couldn’t. It was too embarrassing.”

With a sigh, he stroked your hair immediately.

“Don’t ever be embarrassed. If something like this is bothering you, I want you to let me know, no matter how insignificant you think it is, okay?”

The wordless nod you gave didn’t seem to be enough for him as he tightened his grip and repeated firmly, “Okay?”

“O-Okay,” you croaked out.

Seonghwa hummed in approval, the noise vibrating against your chest and nearly drowning out the rapid pace of your heartbeat. That was all you could hear as he continued to hold you in silence, taking a moment to let your confession sink in. When he decided to return to the conversation, you were blindsided by what he said.

“Actually, I’m…I’m glad you said something about it.”

His words came out hesitant and timid, bringing confusion.

“You…you are?”

“Yes. Now—” A low exhale interrupted his mid-sentence. “—now I can tell you everything that’s been on my mind.”

Everything on his mind? Was there something bothering him as well? Whatever it was, you remained quiet to give him the floor to speak.

“You know…after I said what I said to you in the kitchen that time, I wanted to kick myself. ‘Why did I say that, she must think I’m a pervert!’.”

His recollection made your lips twitch for a moment.

“But then you accepted…I couldn’t believe it.”

The awe in his voice eased your troubles momentarily, flattered at his recollection to your response.

“I kept thinking that maybe I heard you wrong…but when you showed up on my doorstep, I realized that it was really happening.”

“Were you…excited?” You inquired curiously with a small smile.

Seonghwa chuckled next to your ear, the heat making a thrill shoot down your spine. “Excited. Nervous. Ready to run out the second you saw me naked.”

For the first time in over an hour, you giggled, picturing the possibility of him jetting out while nude.

“But I was ultimately happy that you trusted me enough to do that with you, because…”

His sentence trailed off, making you frown as he seemed to be holding back now. Refusing to let him, you stepped out of the embrace and gave him a taste of his own medicine by grabbing his shoulders and staring into his eyes with stern encouragement.

“Because?”

Seonghwa realized what you were doing and chewed on his lower lip for a moment. The lighting out here wasn’t the strongest, but even with that, you could see his cheeks and ears begin to flush red. With a deep breath, he admitted, “Would you be mad if…if I said I always wanted to touch you?”

Your jaw dropped and your eyes nearly popped out of your skull at the stunning revelation.

He always…what?

“Hwa…a-are you just saying this to ease my mind?”

Your friend vehemently shook his head, still keeping his deep brown eyes locked on yours as he placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Not at all. I wouldn’t lie to you, not about that.”

“And…how did you feel, getting to touch me?”

You swore there was a twinkle in his eyes as his lips peeled back. “I was fucking ecstatic.”

His behavior that night supported his confession, yes, but—

“But I’m sure once you got your fill, that was enough.”

Your pessimistic words made the smile on his face fall, realizing too late that you said the wrong thing. When you were about to open your mouth and take it back, Seonghwa interrupted with an irked tone.

“I’m almost offended to hear that.”

Now his eyes narrowed, making you swallow hard at the fire starting to burn in them. “You really think I don’t want to touch you again?”

You tried to explain your faux pas again, only for it to get lodged in your throat when long fingers began running up the side of your neck.

“Every time I’m near you, that’s all I can think about.”

“Seonghwa…” you trailed off.

A thumb started rubbing underneath your jawline, directly over your pounding pulse.“But I held back because I didn’t want to push my luck. I had an excuse the first time, but any time after that—“

He pursed his lips in dissatisfaction. “—I was worried I’d scare you off.”

You were convinced it wasn’t the liquor making your head spin now, his mere touch and words doing the job instead. It took a minute to properly process what he said before you carefully asked, “And right now?”

Seonghwa took in a long breath in order to let it out as a low chuckle.

“Right now, I want to make you forget all those silly thoughts you’re having.”

God. That reaction alone transported you back to being underneath his bare and sweat-slick body as he gave you pleasure that felt too good to be real.

“S-Seonghwa, you…”

Just as quickly as that desire came, it went away in favor of something more delicate.

“But it’s not just your body that I want,” he clarified, something shining in his eyes that you couldn’t pinpoint. “I’d like to be able to hold you and kiss you as well, not needing an excuse to do so. If I could have gotten the nerve to make a move ages ago, I would have…just to prevent you from going through this stress.”

The confession was easing your troubles and bringing out something more positive instead. All of your worries melted away as Seonghwa continued, reaching for your hands to hold them tight and give a grounding squeeze.

With pure affection in his irises, he inquired, “I want to be able to call you mine. Would that be too much to ask?”

You’re not sure when you decided to answer, merely standing there stunned and reeling. All this lamenting was pointless. If you had said something earlier, even before the two of you had sex, this could have been completely avoided. A combination of joy, exasperation and tenderness caused your eyes to well up, blurring your view of him. When you could speak without croaking, you gave your answer.

“I…no, it’s not too much.”

And then you let out a laugh of relief.

“Not at all.”

You could honestly cry right now.

Which was what your laughter morphed into as everything really sank in, leading to Seonghwa gently wiping your eyes with his thumbs.

“Hey, no tears.”

“I’m sorry, Hwa. They’re happy tears, promise.”

Chuckling at the reassurance, he held your cheeks as he rested his forehead on yours, gazing directly into your eyes.

“Good, that’s the only kind I’ll allow.”

A glowing grin graced your face from his humored reply, leaning into the contact. The harsh tension from earlier completely dissipated now, replaced with something warmer. An atmosphere that continued to heat up the longer you two focused on each other. Your stare kept flicking down to his full lips more than once, the urge to revisit how they feel growing more and more urgent.

“What is it?”

Seonghwa’s low query made you bite down on your bottom lip, noticing the way his eyes darted to the action.

“You said you wanted to be able to kiss me whenever…right?”

Your soft suggestion immediately had one of his brows raising, nodding casually. But rather than go straight for it like you expected, he seemed to hold off.

“I did…are you…are you sure? I know you’ve been drinking…”

Oh. That expressed his hesitation. You appreciated his consideration as always, but this was one of the rare times that you wanted it to jump off the balcony and onto the street.

“Hwa, I’ve only had two drinks and that was over an hour ago.”

Returning the favor, you looked his face over, seeing a bit of a flush still under his sun-kissed skin. “Are you good?”

Seonghwa was just as guaranteed in his nod. “Yes, I promise. Drunk or not, I want this just as bad.”

And that right there was all you needed.

Cradling his face with your hands, you pulled him down and let his mouth land on top of yours.

Oh, how you dreamed of this for weeks.

Now that it was happening, you didn’t want to part, even if your oxygen was running out and you were on the verge of going unconscious. Seonghwa seemed to be on the same page, the pressure of his lips increasing each second. The soft sounds of kissing was like music to your ears while the feel of his hands moving down to hold your waist grounded you.

Although, whatever chasteness was there disappeared the second you dared to poke your tongue against his mouth.

A rumble vibrated against you before his grip tightened and his own tongue came out to run along your own. With each stroke, you could taste the top layer of his drink of choice earlier, but it soon faded until all you could take in was him.

A flavor that was unique and addictive.

You’re not sure when it happened amidst the kissing, but Seonghwa eventually had you backed up into the wall less than a foot from the sliding door. If anyone had become nosy and looked hard enough, they could see part of his back before becoming curious and stepping out to see what was happening. But that was the last thing on your mind at the moment.

All you could think of was the way he was making your body heat up with every drag of his hands and swirl of his tongue. Teeth made an appearance, often nipping and pulling at your lips. Heavy breaths washed over your mouth, growing ragged and peppered with moans.

But then you felt his thigh insert itself between your legs, forcing them to part. And then he went and pressed it up, making you gasp sharply as it came into contact with your clothed core. The unexpected move made you finally pull away from the kiss, panting hard as you gawked at the hungry look on Seonghwa’s face.

“Seonghwa…”

“I’m sorry…I’ve been waiting to do this for a while.”

You let out an incredulous sound. “You don’t have to apologize, believe me.”

He laughed gravelly, shaking his head. “No, I do. I don’t think we should stay here any longer.”

Your face twisted in confusion, your lust-addled brain not picking up on what he meant right away. That is, until he pushed his hips closer and everything became clear.

“We have to leave—” A slow grind of his erection into your right thigh. “—before I end up fucking you on this balcony.”

Just the mere thought of him having the urge to do that to you, despite the riskiness, had you audibly moaning.

“Then…let’s go. To my place. I-It’s closer—”

Seonghwa didn’t even wait for you to finish before nodding swiftly, reluctantly pulling himself away from you. While he adjusted himself, you blindly wiped off whatever lipstick smudged out of bounds and fixed your skirt back down to its proper place.

The two of you headed back inside, the brightness and noise sobering. Everyone seemed to be preoccupied still, not looking in your direction out of curiosity. In fact, the Uno game from the earlier was still ongoing, Sakura looking more joyful and Wooyoung with a deep scowl as he stared at his large array of cards.

Glad that no one questioned the disappearance of you and Seonghwa, you motioned him to follow as you walked to the beginning of the hallway where Ningning and Jongho stood. The two were in a bit of a precarious position, minimal space between their bodies as she giggled uncontrollably about something while the other watched her with nothing but affection in his eyes.

If you weren’t so horny right now, you’d drag your friend off and interrogate. Instead, you cleared your throat to catch her attention.

“Oh! Hey you! Where’d you go?” questioned Ningning.

“I just needed some fresh air, that’s all. Actually, Seonghwa and I are gonna head out.”

Ningning’s brows lifted as she straightened her posture a bit, Jongho mirroring the act. “Is everything alright?”

You give your friend a placating smile. “Yeah, I’m just feeling a little tired and he doesn’t want me to go out by myself this late.”

Seonghwa butted in, “And being under the influence of Wooyoung’s concoctions is asking for trouble.”

The two of your friends agreed with a laugh, looking less concerned now.

“You’ve got a point. Hwa, if you want to come back, I can still drive you home later,” offered Jongho.

Seonghwa shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll either stay with Y/N or Uber home.”

You couldn’t help but think that the former choice was more likely, watching as the men gave each other a parting hug.

“Alright, then be safe.”

Jongho gave you one as well before Ningning wrapped her arms tight around you.

“Please drink some water when you get home. And eat some bread!”

You chuckle and give her an appreciative squeeze. “Of course, Ning. Same for you.”

“Will do!”

When she finally decided to release you and give Seonghwa a tight hug as well, the two of you started to head out, waving goodbye to anyone that passed by. As soon as the apartment door shut behind, you looked up at the other, sharing a knowing smile.

“Shall we?”

You wondered if the driver could feel the mountain of tension in the backseat right now.

From the moment you and Seonghwa entered the car, nothing but a greeting was exchanged. The two of you sat in your respective seats, a gap between your bodies. But less than thirty seconds after the vehicle began moving, you felt long, warm fingers caress your hand. Looking away from the blurred street lamps, you peered over to see your fellow rider watching you with something akin to affection.

The demure smile he gave when you intertwined with him only made the desire to reach your apartment worse.

As soon as the car stopped, your goodbyes were said and the two of you stood in silence as the car drove off and around the corner. Once Seonghwa’s hand held yours again, it was like your body went on autopilot. You began leading him inside and up to your unit, fumbling in your purse for your keys with your free hand. The metal brushed against your fingertips a couple of times, but missed thanks to a combination of tipsiness and the sensation of a thumb rubbing the back of your other hand.

Finally, you pulled them out, unlocking your front door and pulling your companion in with you. With little care of where they would land, you tossed your purse and keys aside before grabbing Seonghwa’s shoulders to pull him into a passionate kiss. The rumble against your lips was instant, feeling warm palms land on your waist now. But before you could get too into the contact, he parted to humorously say, “Shouldn’t we take our shoes off first?”

Ah. Kudos to him for that. You hated tracking dirt in your house.

Nodding swiftly, you started to bend down until he held a hand up.

“Let me.”

His soft yet direct words made your posture straighten, watching as he got down on one knee. He took one of your feet and rested it on his bent leg before working on undoing the strap of your heel. The thoughtful act made your stomach flip, desire piling up as you watched him take his time removing your footwear. Something about the way he did this with no hesitation made you want to just pounce and have him on the hardwood floor.

But you had a little decorum still.

Decorum that dwindled even further when he finished and placed a gentle kiss on your knee before standing to remove his own shoes. As soon as he was done, you jumped.

Lips locked, tongues tangled and hands roamed as the both of you fumbled down the hall and into your bedroom, not even bothering to close the door. You walked him backwards until he was forced to sit on your bed, breaking the kiss. But you wasted no time in climbing onto his lap, returning your lips to their rightful place.

You’re not giving him much of a chance to lead, pressing harder and grinding your hips down enough to have denim scraping uncomfortably into your inner thighs. When you rolled hard enough to feel his mouth vibrate against your own, Seonghwa pulled back to give you the heaviest of looks.

“Did you miss me that much?”

The low tone paired with the hands sneaking up your skirt brought a thrill down your spine.

“Yes.”

No shame littered your response, thighs spreading the further you felt his touch wander.

“Good—“ A fingertip ran along the edge of your slowly soddening panties. “—I missed you too.”

His admission only motivated you to pull him back into a lip lock. While that continued, his fingers slid over your clothed mound to rub gentle circles on your clit. The move made you whimper into his mouth, losing coordination the longer it went on.

He wasn’t even touching your skin directly and you were already losing focus. If he kept this up, you wouldn’t be able to carry out your goal. So you brought a hand down to gently hold his wrist, stopping him from stimulating you further. Seonghwa pulled his lips off to look at you with bewilderment.

“What is it?”

“I…” You swallowed down the bit of apprehension that lingered in order to finish. “I want to make you feel good.”

Seonghwa’s bold brows lifted in surprise at your request. “Y/N…do you not want me to touch you first?”

It wasn’t that you weren’t willing to be touched; far from it. But after everything he had done for you, you wanted him to sit back and enjoy whatever you planned to give.

“It’s not that. I love when you touch me, I just—” You made sure to gaze directly into his deep brown eyes. “—I just need to show you how I feel.”

His orbs softened from your words, free hand coming up to hold your chin carefully.

“Are you sure?”

You didn’t mean for a whine to leave your lips before pleading, “Seonghwa, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me later, just— Please.”

But it worked as he finally eased up, moving his hand away from your face.

“Okay…okay, baby.” Now he rested his palms on the bed with a smile. “I’m all yours.”

The double meaning behind those words had your heart swelling impossibly. You leaned in to capture him in a kiss again, a little slower now. You didn’t linger too long before trailing pecks away from his mouth and down to his jawline. Your lips dotted each inch of it, nose brushing against his earlobes on both sides when you reached.

When you moved further south to land on the long column of Seonghwa’s neck, you could hear his breathing quicken. Holding back a smile, you started exploring this new area, listening close for any tells. Landing on his Adam’s apple forced a hitch out of the other, making you repeatedly plant kisses on that area. The most he gave you was a reserved groan, pushing you to want to increase the volume.

And so you carefully sunk your teeth in.

“Shit, Y/N—”

That was more like it.

Your smile didn’t hold back this time as you pulled back to look at what you did. Judging by the red splotch on his sun-kissed skin, you wouldn’t be surprised if it evolved into a mark in the morning. Seonghwa caught your appreciative stare and chuckled gruffly.

“Are you marking me up?”

“Maybe…”

Mischief littered your tone as you trailed off, leaning in to give said spot a gentle kiss.

“I want you to remember this night somehow.”

You could feel your lover shiver underneath you. “Nothing could make me forget this.”

When your heart expanded uncomfortably at his words, you had to find a way to use your sudden burst of energy. You’re quick to reach for the hem of his t-shirt and tug it off, wasting none of your precious time in running your hands along his heated skin. Muscle memory kicked in to help stimulate hot spots, drinking in every moan and whisper of praise he let out.

Only now did you move from your station on his lap, determined to move down to giving another area attention. You stood up between Seonghwa’s spread legs, head leaning in to lay kisses all over his toned chest. Rotating between using your lips, tongue and teeth, you gauged his enjoyment by the sounds he made.

Sinking your teeth in further whenever he grunted.

Sucking harder if a hint of a whine was heard.

Running the tip of your tongue over his hardened nipples, thighs rubbing at the shallow gasp he would give with each stroke.

Tiring of that place, you moved down his torso to give attention to his abs, loving how stiff they became under your lips. When you latched onto the skin under his belly button, Seonghwa grunted out a ‘please’, forcing you to realize just how close you were to his crotch.

His jeans did little to conceal how affected he was from your ministrations. You rested a hand on the bulge, giving the most careful of squeezes that forced Seonghwa to buck his hips.

“Y/N—“

Looking up, you saw him completely lying on his back now, fists grabbing onto your sheets. The view only pushed you to repeat the move, biting your lip at the louder groan received.

“More…please.”

Your need to get rid of the constricting fabric rose immensely, leading your hands to begin working at his fly immediately. You didn’t even bother removing his bottoms, shoving them down until they pooled around his ankles. An eagerness washed over as you scooted in as close as possible, coming face to face with Seonghwa’s cock. Before he could sit up, your fingers wrapped around it, forcing an intake of breath from him.

“I wish I got to touch you more last time.”

Your hushed admittance didn’t escape his ears, judging by the way he pushed himself up with his arms and gazed down at you with an unreadable emotion.

“You do?”

A nod was given before you leaned close to let a glob of spit drip onto him, hearing a curse from above as you started stroking lazily.

“Yeah. But I wanted you to fuck me so badly, I had to suck it up and move on. If I knew we were going to do this again, I would’ve continued.”

Seonghwa’s eyes only seemed to darken more as you spoke with little hesitation. Your mouth could be incredibly loose when under the influence.

“I wouldn’t have said no if you asked.”

Your mouth curled into the fondest of smiles at that. Now that things were out in the open, you wouldn’t hold back this time; he was going to see just what you would have done with the extra time.

Keeping your gazes locked, you pressed the flat of your tongue to the underside, dragging it up with little speed. The lightest of moans left as his taste brought back memories of that night. Reaching the tip had you drawing circles around the flushed skin, savoring the hiss Seonghwa gave.

“That’s it…”

His encouragement only made you latch your lips around it, giving the gentlest of sucks before popping off, the noticeable sound making his hips jerk in response.

“Do that again, baby—”

You granted his wish, repeating the motion enough that your lover watched you like a hawk, tongue slipping out to run over his parted lips.

“So fucking good.”

If you weren’t careful, you’d end up with an inflated ego due to his praise. But that was a problem for another time as you were ready to go further now.

Your head came close enough to start sliding his dick into your mouth, eyes still steady on his own as you sunk down. Wrapping your hand around whatever didn’t fit, you started moving on both ends, lips meeting your fingers each time. Seonghwa groaned louder than ever, lithe fingers gripping onto your bedsheets as an anchor.

“God, I missed this—”

You had to wonder how often he replayed you pleasuring him in his mind. Probably as much as you did the same for him. From now on, he wouldn’t have to strictly rely on memory; you’d do this as much as he wanted.

This time around, you felt less conscious of how you conducted yourself, letting drool leak out and over your fingers while making obscene noises from the suction. All you cared about was making the man above you feel as good as possible.

Seonghwa’s hips trembled visibly underneath you as you went on, the influence of his earlier drinks causing him to react more than the first time. His head would often fall back before struggling to come back up, only to fail when the pleasure got to be too much. Watching his chest heave with strained breaths was almost hypnotic. But the more you looked, the more a daring idea came into your mind.

It wasn’t something you granted often to your previous lovers, but for him…

Sliding off of him, you eased his moan of withdrawal with a soothing gaze before pushing your voice to come out.

“You wanna fuck my mouth, baby?”

As if you poured ice water on him, his entire body froze. It took a moment for him to process your words before a harsh groan was followed by a desperate, “Please…”

You couldn’t hold back a smirk, taking him back in again, only going down enough to give him room to move. Seonghwa propped himself up on his arms, one coming forward to rest a hand gently on the back of your head. With a look of encouragement from you, his hips pulled back in the slightest, only to snap forward.

And again.

And again.

And again.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

Something about the gravelly way he spoke your name made a visible shiver go down your spine. That and the way he kept sliding in and out with ease, thanks to the spit from before. Your eyes dared to connect with his, seeing his dark and lidded ones giving you nothing but sheer heat.

“So good for me…so pretty like this—”

A moan vibrated around him from the praise, only driving his hips faster now.

“Always thought you’d take me so well—”

He was going to be the death of you if he kept talking.

But somehow you managed to stay in control as he continued fucking your mouth, only letting your hands roam his stomach and thighs and wherever you could reach (you dared to graze against his balls and the guttural reaction you received was oh so worth it).

This went on for a while, but you were in too much of a trance to even think of how much time went by, only noticing how close he was when a strained noise came out.

“Baby, I’m gonna come—“

Something of a thrill went through you at his words before curiosity starts to take a hold.

You could have just pulled off and let him finish on your hand or his stomach, but there was a part of you that wanted to go a step further and see just what he tasted like.

A hand went up to lay on the one holding the back of your head while staring directly into his eyes. Once Seonghwa understood your silent communication, he groaned brokenly. His gruff swearing preceded the faster movement of his hips, becoming frantic and off-beat. It only felt like a short moment before he froze suddenly to let out a choked gasp, shaking and twitching as heat started to coat your tongue.

The somewhat bitter taste mixed with the lingering alcohol, making you moan in satisfaction as you watched your newfound lover lose control. You didn’t release him until the last of the tremors left his body, an audible pop sounding while he slumped back onto the bed. Wiping your mouth free of spit and a bit of his come, you took in the sight of Seonghwa catching his bearings, his torso already covered with a light sheen of sweat.

“Shit…I’m sorry.”

You didn’t catch his ragged apology immediately, processing it after a few seconds of blinking. A giggle broke before you pulled yourself up to plant your palms next to his head.

“Why sorry? Did you miss me that much?” You teased.

His ears only grew redder, groaning as he threw an arm over his eyes to hide his embarrassment. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not—” You pressed a kiss to said arm. “—it’s flattering.”

Seonghwa removed his arm to shoot you a pout, only for it to break into a smile the more you looked at each other. He interrupted the staring when he reached up to pull you on top of him, wrapping you into a tight hug. You could hear his rapid heartbeat this way, remaining in the welcome embrace for a while.

“Just wait until I get my bearings.”

“Mm?”

Your head lifted to look at him, only to see a more serious expression on his face now.

“Best believe I’m returning the favor.”

Your core clenched at the expression he gave and the tone of his voice, looking forward to whatever ‘favor’ he had in store.

“I’m scared and excited.” Your honest words made Seonghwa give a velvety laugh.

“Good. I plan to make you into a mess as well.”

There was no way he didn’t feel how you shuddered at that, judging by the crooked tilt of his lips.

It only took another minute before he started sitting up, forcing you to stand once again. He released your body to reach down and pull his bottoms off his feet, tossing them to the side. Before they even landed, his hands shot out to hold your hips and pull you back onto his lap, your legs wrapping around his slender waist.

Both hands came up to cup your jaw and pull you into a passionate kiss, the contact making you melt into him in an instant. While you were distracted by his quickly emerging tongue, Seonghwa went to slide the hem of your shirt up your torso, forcing the kiss to break so he could slip it off and let it join his own clothes on the floor. Before you could capture his lips again, he reached for your upper back, making quick work in undoing the clasp of your bra. As soon as the fabric loosened and dropped, his mouth immediately went to latching on.

Hot kisses were planted all over your bare chest, leaving no space untouched. They only made the heat in your body rise higher and higher, squirming in your lover’s lap. It became worse when you witnessed his full lips wrap around one of your nipples to suck lightly. His deep brown eyes looked up, keeping contact with yours as he kept this up. The heat lingering in his orbs were peppered with something else that made a low moan escape you.

He hummed against you for a second before releasing the bud, only to flick his tongue rapidly over it, making your body jolt in his lap. A velvety chuckle came from Seonghwa, moving to the other side to repeat the motion.

“Hwa—”

Pulling off, he brought his head up to hover in front of yours. His eyes were lidded as he husked, “Keep saying my name like that.”

You didn’t even get the chance to nod and show him you were on board before he dove back down to keep showering your breasts with attention. Finding your posture becoming unstable, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tangled your fingers into his short, dark locks. For that, you received a groan and a nip to one of your buds.

The sharpness had you hissing his name quietly, although it sounded loud in this room.

Seonghwa continued, getting his fill of your breathy voice until he decided he had enough, releasing your nipple with a grunt.

“Y/N.”

“Mm?”

He sat up straight, bringing himself face to face with you now. “Can you do me a favor?”

You nodded swiftly without even fully processing his words. “Sit on my face.”

…what?

“H-Huh?”

He merely smirked.

“You said I could do whatever I want to you, yes? So come sit on my face.”

You’re reeling from his offer, but quick to nod and spring into action after a moment and stand up. Your fingers fumble a bit in removing your skirt, though you’re successful at getting the constricting fabric off your legs. But just as you’re about to do the same for your underwear, Seonghwa takes a hold of your hands and gives you a look of impatience.

“Just come up here already.”

His urgency sent a shock down your spine, not used to seeing him like this. But you granted his wish, waiting until he laid back, his head just below your pillows. You cautiously climbed on and up to hover your hips above his face.

Were you too high? You didn’t know; you had never done this before!

But Seonghwa didn’t allow you the chance to overthink more, hooking a finger into the crotch of your panties (and causing a jolt at the brush against your skin) and pulling them to the side. A curse left at the sight of your arousal before he grabbed your hips.

“I love how wet you get for me.”

With zero hesitation, he pulled you down onto his lips and got to work.

Maybe your brain was playing tricks on you, but it felt even better than the first time.

Perhaps he wasn’t exaggerating when he said he constantly thought about being intimate again when he was with you. It seemed like he remembered what pleased you and was using every detail to his advantage.

Either way, you were enjoying this greatly.

Whenever there was a break in your moans, you could hear the obscene sound of Seonghwa’s tongue lapping and flicking between your legs.

“So fucking sweet—“

The sudden rumble from below made you tremble visibly, drawn out from the slow and thorough way he was tasting you. Your fingers were quick to grip onto the headboard for support as you fought the urge to push down onto his face; it was just too early in the game for that.

But your sense of modesty was evaporating with each stroke of his tongue and suction with his lips.

The rum from earlier pushed you to eventually start rolling your hips, feeling a moan vibrate from him. Hands guided you even further in your desires, gaining more friction that had your breath hitching. When Seonghwa stopped, you took over, continuing to take what you wanted, receiving an even louder groan.

“God…yes, ride my face like that—“

The grab and jiggle to your ass only encouraged you to go on and on.

How could you have never done this before in your entire life? You could sit up here forever.

But your control started to slip when you felt something a little more solid start to brush against the bundle of nerves. The sudden feeling made you jolt, looking down to see what was going on.

…fuck. He was using his nose.

The nose that you greatly admired on his gorgeous face.

And just like that, you stopped giving a fuck.

Tightening your hold, you began rubbing against him harder, increasing the pleasure tenfold. Something of an elated laugh came from Seonghwa at your loosened inhibitions, only encouraging you further. Time was a pointless concept for the two of you as you got your fill of each other, only coming to a halt when you felt a sharp and familiar pang in your gut.

Hissing as the pressure started to become too much, you whimpered, “Seonghwa…”

Yet if he heard you, he chose to ignore, continuing to let his tongue flick at your throbbing clit.

God, if he kept that up, things were going to get messy.

“I-I’m gonna come so hard— Let me off!”

Seonghwa heeded your request, but psyched you out when he grunted, “No. Don’t hold back.”

Your eyes darted down to gawk at him with doubt before he shot a crooked grin.

“Come on my face, pretty girl.”

Jaw dropping at his approval, he gave you no chance to second guess as he dove back in, giving you everything he had. And when it got to be too much, the knot inside snapped.

Your back arched and you cried out sharply as you shook and expressed your pleasure in a way that hadn’t happened since that fateful night with him.

When the tremors started to subside, you rested your damp forehead on the headboard for a moment, using that and Seonghwa’s soothing hands on your hips as an anchor.

“So good for me, baby.”

His praise made you exhale in relief, finding yourself coming back to Earth after a couple of minutes. Scooting back to hover above his chest, you peered down to see the damage you did.

Oh. Holy shit.

You fucking drenched him, enough for droplets to slide down the side of his face and dark spots to show on the pillowcase. But Seonghwa looked unperturbed, gazing up at you without an ounce of shame.

“Jesus. Seonghwa, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d—“

The rest of your apology died out when a hand came up to wipe his wet mouth, only to then bring fingers to his bangs to push them off his forehead.

“Don’t be. That was too fucking hot.”

And then you were rendered speechless when his tongue snaked out to run over his glistening lips. “Love when you squirt for me.”

God…he was going to be the end of you.

With shaking legs, you dismounted and sat next to him, wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead. “You need to stop being so good at that.”

Seonghwa grinned devilishly. “I think not. You seem to enjoy it a lot.”

Your eyes narrowed out of annoyance and modesty, poking his bare chest before rebutting, “Your mind is playing tricks on you.”

“No way. I saw the look on your face when you moved back. You looked like you were about to smother me again.”

“Seonghwa!”

Your shriek brought a laugh from the other, growing louder when you started laying light punches on his torso. He was quick to grab your hands and pull you down, pinning them between both of your bodies.

“Easy there, baby.”

His interruption of your assault only made your lower lip stick out. Seonghwa leaned up to press his own, making it retract when he gave you a nip with his teeth.

“Keep doing that and I’ll have to wipe that pout off.”

The low promise did it for you anyways, biting down on your lip in response.

“How so?”

Your little challenge brought the cheekiest of smiles from him before you found your vision blurring as your world spun. Now you found yourself pinned down to your bed, gawking up at the other.

“Let me show you.”

Seonghwa laid a palm on your heaving chest, slowly yet purposefully dragging it down your torso until it rested below your belly button. For a moment, he pressed down a bit before sliding his thumb downwards, giving your still sensitive clit a few circles. The pressure on your stomach unexpectedly amplified the pleasure, making your eyes flutter shut as you let it spread through you in waves.

He gave you some time to enjoy this simple attention before you felt something prodding your entrance. You tensed up for a second until you realized it was his fingers, his hand now removed from your stomach and focused between your legs. As soon as he felt you relax, Seonghwa slid inside, the two digits causing a pleasant friction against your walls. Like it was muscle memory, you could feel them curl and hook onto that swollen spot, pushing the air out of your lungs as your eyes flew open.

“Can you give it to me again, sweetheart?”

Unable to form words, your widened eyes met his before bobbing your head frantically. You didn’t realize how worked up you were until he began touching you and now you wanted more.

Seonghwa realized this as well, his grin adopting a tinge of feral energy.

“That’s my girl.”

His approval was followed by slow, thorough movements, in and out as he stroked your inner walls. The lewd noise from it was like music to your ears.

“Still so wet…” Seonghwa’s muttered comment made your cheeks flame, giving him a mock pout.

“Your fault.” Your petulant reply had him chuckling, leaning down to give your lips a peck.

“I’ll take the blame. It’s good to know I’m not the only one affected.”

“What, did you think you were just lucky the first time?”

Humming, he continued, “A little…but I can see that’s not the case.”

You groaned at a specific rub before chuckling hoarsely. “You sound happy about that.”

“I am, especially after the torture of this last month.”

Seonghwa’s fingers pulled back a bit. “Couldn’t think straight sometimes when we were alone together.”

A plunge into that spongy spot.

“I kept thinking about that night and how good you looked in my bed.”

Your hips couldn’t help but jerk. “Y-Yeah?”

“Mhm. All laid out on the sheets bare and willing to let me please you.”

A thumbing of your clit.

“It was like a dream come true.”

No, this was a dream come true.

Starting the night off as a sensitive wreck and ending it under the warm comfort of the man you admired almost felt like you could wake up any second. But the fingers sending bolts of bliss up your spine said otherwise.

“Y/N—” hissed Seonghwa. “—you keep squeezing me…still tight as ever.”

His words had you clenching again, feeling the pressure inside rise further.

“Hwa…keep talking to me like that.”

“Mm?”

You gazed directly into his eyes, licking your swollen lips.

“It…really gets to me.”

Your admission had shock passing over his face for a moment before he nodded firmly, bracing his body above yours with a hand planted next to your head. His bangs had become a bit loose from the styling he had done, casting a shadow around his dark brown eyes, smudged with liner.

“Good. I want you to know how fucking amazing you feel.”

A tremble of your hips as he sped up a bit.

“Ngh…yes, like that—”

Seonghwa bit back a groan, trying to remain somewhat composed as he worked on taking you to the peak. “The sounds you make are still one of my favorites.”

Same to you.

“I really wish you said something earlier…who knows how many times we could have done this again?”

So many times.

“Can’t wait to feel this wrapped around my cock.”

You couldn’t wait either.

It didn’t take much longer for a new coil to begin forming, your hips twitching and jerking often as the sounds from the fingers fucking you grew louder. After another suggestive compliment was whispered in your ear, the coil snapped and brought a sharp keen from your lips. You weren’t fully aware of what came out of your mouth during your orgasm, only focusing on the way you coated Seonghwa’s hand with your release.

“Fuck, there we go—“

He refused to stop until you reached down to grab his wrist, hints of overstimulation starting to wash over you. Once your muscles calmed a bit, you peered at the man above you with glassy eyes. A short laugh came out when you took notice of the sizeable wet spot sitting under your bottom right now.

“You’re gonna drain me, Hwa.”

With little modesty, Seonghwa grinned and explained, “Then I’ll just fill you back up again.”

You forgot how dangerous his confidence could be when it was through the roof.

Humming lowly, you brought trembling hands up to rest on his bare chest, noting the way his heart pounded beneath your right palm.

“And just how are you going to do that?”

Your lover’s brow lifted at your query, especially when you decided to start rubbing at his skin.

“With your tongue?”

Seonghwa’s mouth parted to respond, only for a hitched exhale to release when you slid up to his shoulders.

“Your fingers again?”

The back-to-back orgasms were making your tongue loose, running your fingertips along the nape of his neck as you leaned up to practically kiss his ear.

“Or maybe…your cock?”

Your velvety whisper brought a visible shiver out of Seonghwa, feeling a little triumphant at getting him to react to your unexpected words. But then a hand came up to grasp your chin, pulling you back so you could get a clear view of the sheer hunger in his deep brown eyes. With the fingers that were still slick with your come, he wrapped them around his length (now hard again) and stroked slowly.

“If I don’t get inside you in the next minute, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Well, there was your answer.

With a swift nod, the two of you worked on maneuvering your bodies to a more comfortable position, your head laying underneath your array of throw pillows while Seonghwa laid his lean body between your spread legs. His arousal pressed insistently against your sensitive folds, only increasing your need for him. Your hand reached down to align him properly, gazing up with thinly-veiled impatience. It didn’t take long for him to give in, pushing his hips forward to begin filling you up.

God. You don’t remember it feeling this good last time.

Every inch and vein bumped along the ridges of your walls, causing your desire to increase to an unbearable point. So unbearable that you lost your patience when he was halfway in, grabbing his slender hips to tug and finish the job, pulling a sharp sound out of the both of you.

Seonghwa trembled visibly for a moment to regain some control as he bottomed out, eyes watching you with astonishment. Eventually, something between a groan and a heavy laugh left him, forehead dropping to rest on yours. His bangs tickled your face as he rasped, “God, I missed this.”

A similar expression came from you, your hands taking place on his waist to run up and down the heated and damp skin.

“Me too.”

For a while, you and your newfound lover just watched each other in silence, ragged breathing as background noise. It was like you were both processing the end of ‘what if’s and stressful pining. After tonight, no one was going to be confused about feelings.

The only issue at this point was figuring out how many times was going to be enough to satisfy both of your needs.

Ready to have a repeat of that one night, you crossed your ankles over Seonghwa’s lower back and gave a light push. With that motion, he was quick to begin moving his hips, bringing about a friction that was scratching that itch you had had for the last month.

“Baby, stop holding back,” you gently chided.

Seonghwa’s breath hitched audibly at that, eyes looking into yours for any hesitation present. When you gave none, he clenched his jaw and proceeded to put more force into his thrusts, beginning to relieve that bothersome tickle inside.

“Mm, just like that—”

Your praise only encouraged the other, leaving little restraint as he moved in and out of you. His head was quick to drop down and trail small kisses and bites all over your jaw and neck, often pausing to whisper coarse words into your ear.

“Do you know how many times I wanted to just drag you away from the others and have you like this again?”

You tightened around him for a moment before hissing, “No, not at all.”

Seonghwa chuckled heavily, tugging your earlobe with his teeth.

“Too fucking often.”

Sliding a hand up his sweat-slick back, the contracting muscles distracted you for a second before you ended up tangling your fingers in his hair.

“If only I knew then…we could have made some excuses up.”

Seonghwa laughed again, only for a groan to interrupt it. “Fuck— You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

You smirked and pressed your lips to his temple before husking, “That’s only one of them.”

Something shifted in his eyes, hips stilling before he pulled out, leaving you feel hollow. Groaning in frustration, you started, “Seonghwa, don’t—“

“Hands and knees, now.”

His sultry command killed whatever backlash you were ready to give, quickly maneuvering your body into the requested position. As soon as your palms touched the bed, Seonghwa realigned himself and slowly went back in, the new angle making your fingers clutch the sheets.

“Goddamn, you look good from here,” he grunted as he fully filled you up again.

Within a couple of seconds, your lover grabbed your hips and began pulling you back as he thrust forward, each contact causing an audible smack to occur. It was soon joined by a short cry or moan from your mouth, the position causing his cock to drag in just the right places. Feeling his balls consistently slap against your throbbing clit didn’t help matters either, jolts of pleasure shooting out to your fingers and toes.

“Oh— Oh my God—”

The most unabashed of moans left you, coming deep from the pit of your belly as Seonghwa continued to pound into you from behind. You could feel his hands roaming over the entirety of your body. From grasping your shoulders to caressing your breasts to gripping the curve of your ass, he left little areas untouched. There’s less restraint in his moves tonight. He’s not trying to find out what makes you tic and what turns you off.

No, he's taking all of that knowledge from before to turn you into an absolute mess right now.

“Is this good, baby?” he rasped.

Good didn’t even come close to how you were feeling.

“U-Uh huh!”

A tweak of your nipple had you borderline whining.

“What was that?”

His provocation pushed you to try and answer him with actual words this time, “So good! You feel so good inside me, Hwa—!”

Seonghwa swore before you felt his other hand slide down the front of your torso, eventually landing between your hips to work your clit over.

Your limbs became unstable all of a sudden, forcing you to land on your front, face buried in the sheets while you were being fucked senseless. It didn’t matter to him as an audible grunt came out before you felt his lips planting between your shoulder blades repeatedly.

“You take me so fucking well, it’s amazing—“

At this point, you couldn’t even respond, giving in to the bliss consuming your senses. You were in an entire other headspace until a sudden impact to your bottom snapped you back to reality. Bewilderment came about as you tried to figure out what that was until it happened again, realizing that Seonghwa’s hand was the culprit.

He just spanked you!

You were truly experiencing a new side of him tonight and you loved it.

“Tell me it’s mine.”

Another smack followed, prompting you to cry out, “It’s yours, Seonghwa, all yours!”

After this repeated brazen act, your second orgasm was approaching quickly. Surely he could feel it with how frequently you were squeezing his dick, which was why you were stunned when he withdrew out of nowhere. But then you felt his mouth land on your pussy, licking and sucking like his life depended on it.

The shock of the new maneuver ultimately pushed you to your limit, fisting the sheets as you shouted. Seonghwa’s tongue didn’t let up as you trembled violently, pushing your body until it squirted its pleasure down your thighs.

“I love making a mess out of you,“ you heard Seonghwa mumble while continuing to lap at your dripping folds.

When you didn’t have any more to give, you became a pile of mush, flattening your body on the bed as you tried to come back down. While you were recovering, hands carefully maneuvered you until you were on your back again. Your lover immediately placed himself between your thighs again, his dick nudging against you before sliding in, making your legs shake at the overstimulation. But then he remained still once his hips touched yours, panting raggedly as he looked down at you.

Strands of ebony hair plastered to his sweat-beaded face, swollen lips parted as he caught his breath and dark eyes lidded, yet laser-focused on you.

He was…beautiful like this.

His brows raised in surprise all of a sudden, leaving you confused as to why he made that face until you realized that you said it out loud instead. The blunder made your cheeks burn as you grinned sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

Seonghwa relaxed his expression into an affectionate smile and shook his head, leaning down to peck your lips.

“Don’t be. Although, I think that word suits you more than me.”

His deflection of your praise made you pout (even if you were highly flattered), giving his cheek a pinch in retaliation.

“I would argue with you about that, but I think we have something more important to worry about right now.”

A small shift of your hips was enough of a reminder, Seonghwa looking more focused now. As soon as you relaxed against the bed, he began to move again, bringing back sheer pleasure.

All you could focus on was him, watching every change in his expression and listening to every sound or word that came out of his mouth. Every inch of his skin that brushed against or stuck to yours only increased your desire for him.

It didn’t feel like enough to only have part of his body on yours, hands swiftly grasping his shoulders and tugging him down to lay flat on you, his lightly defined chest squishing down your breasts. This action prompted him to increase the power in his thrusts, hitting you in the deepest parts that you were unaware of before tonight.

In short, he was fucking you good.

When you clung harder to him and whimpered, he kissed your temple and whispered in your ear, “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

And he kept his word.

Seonghwa often placed his lips wherever he could reach, although he favored your lips the most. His arms wrapped tight around your quivering body, keeping you steady as he rutted into you over and over. You felt safe and secure like this. Nothing else seemed to matter at this point, especially the conflict from earlier.

This was truly different than the first time.

No music. No expectations. No nerves. Just you and the man you had been slowly falling for for God knows how long.

When your walls began fluttering wildly, you knew the end was coming close. And so did Seonghwa when his deep voice vibrated against your ear, asking, “You’re gonna come?”

The heavy way he said that nearly drove you over the edge right then and there, but you swallowed the spit gathering in your mouth to pant, “Y-Yes— Are you—?“

The strained ‘yes’ he gave was paired with a strong twitch inside you, prompting you to frantically move your hips up to meet his, hoping to help. Both of your movements were uncoordinated yet effective, the tightening in your gut becoming unbearable until it snapped.

Your nails dug hard into his shoulder blades, an explosive cry of his name echoing in the heady air, quickly followed by Seonghwa bottoming out, only to groan audibly as he hit his peak also. Every spurt of his release that filled you up made you feel complete; something that you now had the privilege to experience as much as you wanted.

It felt like ages until the both of you decided to untangle from each other, Seonghwa barely lifting himself off as he withdrew and flopped next to your sweaty body. He didn’t let you stay apart from him for long, bringing you close to lay your head above his rapidly beating heart. A soft sigh escaped as you rested your hand on the other side of his chest, eyes heavy with bliss and exhaustion.

“That…I think that made up for the last month.”

Seonghwa’s weary remark made you giggle faintly, “It definitely did.”

You felt his chest vibrate under you before a kiss landed on the top of your head.

“Thank you for being honest with me earlier. Again, I’m sorry I put you through this,” he apologized.

Forcing your head to lift, you rested your chin on him as you looked into his eyes with no nonsense.

“Hwa, you couldn’t have known, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Seonghwa seemed like he was about to protest, but the steel in your gaze killed it, prompting him to sigh instead.

“Okay…but I will be trying to make it up to you.”

His promise intrigued you, giving him a curious look. “How so?”

“Hm…first things first, I need to take you out on a proper date.”

That made you chuckle and tease, “I think you’re supposed to go on a date before fucking someone’s brains out.”

Seonghwa clicked his tongue and snarked, “It’s the twenty-first century, I don’t think going in order is important anymore.”

Unable to fight with that, you decided to mess with him and suggest, “If that’s the case, then I expect the whole nine yards on our date.”

“Like what?”

“Walking up to my front door with a dozen roses, opening the car door for me, pulling out my chair at dinner, a moonlit walk by the river…”

Your exaggerated list made your lover laugh incredulously, griping with humor, “Wow, it’s only been a few hours and already my girlfriend is giving me a hard time.”

…oh! Girlfriend?

The label made your body feel warm and light, not expecting him to call you that so soon. But you played it cool and hummed, “Mm, am I your girlfriend now?”

“I would like to think that you are.”

His matter-of-fact statement made your ears burn, already enjoying the sound of the new title. You gave his nose a poke as you pestered him in jest, “Good. I got wasted off of rum punch and cried over you, I think it’s the least I deserve.”

All your boyfriend did was chuckle, eyes warm as he brought your hand up to place a long kiss on the back of it.

“That and everything more.”

For a moment, you thought your alarm was going off; sometimes you forgot to turn it off when you didn’t have work. But the music continued on for close to a minute, prompting you to pry your eyes open, wincing at the faint sunlight coming through your window.

You blindly reached a hand out to fumble around on the nightstand until you touched your phone, ready to hit snooze until you realized that someone was calling you.

Specifically, Ningning.

Attempting to clear the sleep out of your throat, you hit the answer button and brought the device up to your ear, croaking, “Hello?”

“Good morning, sunshine!” chirped your friend.

The chipper voice on the other end had you glancing at your alarm clock in bewilderment.

“Ning, you’re up already?”

“I know, I know, shocker. I woke up for a second and wanted to check up on you. How are you feeling?”

Touched at your friend’s concern, you relaxed under your comforter, rubbing your feet as you responded, “Good, thanks for asking. Sorry we left early.”

Ningning clicked her tongue before scolding, “No, don’t apologize. I wasn’t going to force you to stay if you weren’t feeling well.”

You heard some shuffling on the other end before she continued, “I’m guessing Seonghwa spent the night at your place?”

Your eyes glanced to the side at said man laying close to you, curled up on his side and snoring softly, a bit of drool on his parted lips. A tired smile graced your face as you reached out to gently wipe it away with your thumb.

“He did. I bet he’s still out cold,” you lied, acting as if he was in his usual spot on the couch and not in your bed.

Ningning giggled, “Not surprised, Jongho is still fast asleep too.”

That detail piqued your interest, raising a brow at how she would know that.

“Jongho?” you asked suspiciously.

Your friend became silent for a second before she spoke again, “Oh, uh, I texted him to let him know he left his sweater behind, but he didn’t answer. You know how much of an early bird he is.”

Even though her rushed tone and words sounded like an excuse, you didn’t have the energy to grill her. Next time.

“Right, right.”

A pause came about, making you lean towards saying goodbye to your friend so you could sleep in some more. That is, until Ningning sounded more serious as she probed, “You promise you’re okay, Y/N?”

You frowned at the shift in tone, replying, “I am. What’s wrong?”

“I just…last night you seemed, I don’t know, a bit troubled at one point. And I was shocked to see you get drunk and dance with us, but I didn’t want to pry too much.”

Oops. Guess you weren’t as candid as you thought. At least you could give her an honest answer now.

“Ning…I was feeling a little off last night, I’m not going to lie. It’s just some stuff that’s been piling up that got to me, but…it’s all good now. I got everything out of my system from letting loose and I promise I’m okay.”

You heard nothing for a moment before Ningning’s voice returned, sounding less cautious now, “So you’re feeling better now? Completely?”

When she asked that, you looked over at Seonghwa again.

Just being able to watch him sleep so peacefully close to you gave you a sense of calm. This was what you desired. What you had been waiting so long for.

With a glowing smile, you replied blissfully, “Yes, much better.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2025. Crossposted to AO3. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.