#they are the main relationship sorry not sorry

[sailorsoons]

Amnesia (c.sc)

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f. reader

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

Word Count: 11,920

Genre: Friends with benefits to lovers 

Type: Smut, Angst if you squint 

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

Warnings: Under the cut

A/N: This fic was posted on my original blog which has been deleted. I am now reposting it. I hope it does half as well as it did when I originally posted this story - thank you to everyone who left amazing feedback the first time. It genuinely made me so happy and I am so sorry that it got sent to the moon where I can no longer read it.

A/N 2: Thank you @yoongukie-ff for sending me your original reblog of this to pull the summary information from. I appreciate you and I love you!

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

DAY ONE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Every Sunday. Do you like games?” 

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

“So am I.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow, so strong.”

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

“No, no, you are. Thank you.” 

“You shouldn’t tease me. I’m new.” 

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

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

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

“I like winning.”

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

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

“I’m down.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm. Not convincing.”

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

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

“What will you give me?” 

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

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

You already do want more. 

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

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

“I can think of something, I think.”

-

DAY SEVEN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You too.” 

-

DAY TEN 

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

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

-

DAY TWENTY THREE

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

-

DAY THIRTY

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

“Are you hungry?” 

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” 

-

DAY FORTY THREE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DAY FIFTY TWO

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

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

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

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

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

“I do have a shower.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he whispers. 

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

“Too bad.” 

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

“I was promised a shower.”

“Maybe I’m too tired,” You murmur.

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

“Hmmm. I’m listening.” 

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

“I’ll massage your shoulders…” 

“Hmm.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You always do. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re in the shower.” 

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

“The only crime is pride.”

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

“Antigone by Sophocles.” 

“What’s that one about?” 

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

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

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

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

“The guy who fucked his mom?”

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

“Craaazy family.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss me.” His voice is soft, needy. 

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

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

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

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

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

“My knees are fucking useless right now.”

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

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

“Knew it,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

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

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

“Good?”

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

“Yeah?”

“All good.”

“Thank fuck. Thought I lost you.”

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

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

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

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

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

He holds you reverently, both hands on your hips to keep you where he wants you. You reach one hand behind your head, holding the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin. He hums happily, always pleased when you bite and scratch him.

That had been a surprise. You always thought he wouldn’t want you to mark him, that he wouldn’t want evidence of your time spent together. Seungcheol is the opposite though, urging you to rake your nails across soft skin, to bite at him and bruise him. 

Your feet slide apart a little as he strengthens his thrusts. You squeal, hand smacking the glass to hold yourself up. He lets out a loud laugh, pausing to let you fix your stance. He taps your thigh in question and you nod, lifting your leg a little to let him slide a hand under your thigh to press it against the shower wall for better grip.

When he rolls his hips into you this time, it’s deeper, making you tremble against the glass. A groan drips from Seungcheol’s mouth as he sets his pace, pinning you between him and the glass with nothing to do but to take what he gives you. 

“Can you do another?” he asks, breath shaky. His fingers squeeze your thigh for emphasis, the snap of his hips getting stronger. You nod, unable to answer verbally. He huffs, half laughter, half something else. “Yeah you can.” 

And you can. Seungcheol can pull pleasure out of you like thread from a loom, his skilled hands guiding you where he wants you to go. It’s easy for him, the way he knows your body so acute and familiar that the thought alone makes you unravel a little, your whines muted by the glass. 

He makes you come like that, stuck between his warmth and the cold, the two contrasts keeping you suspended as you seize up around him. He grunts at the feeling, hips sloppy, losing their rhythm until he clenches up, growling your name into your neck as he tips over the edge after you. 

For a few moments, you remain melded together, panting in time. Seungcheol makes no rush of peeling himself away from you. Instead, he’s content to mouth at your shoulder and neck, running his nose along your throat. You squirm and laugh, ticklish. 

Grinning, he does it again, nuzzling into you and making you laugh, sound echoing in the shower. “Seungcheol!”

“It’s cute.” 

“Come on,” you urge. “You said you’d wash my hair.” 

He steals a kiss. “Alright, alright. Pass me the shampoo.” 

-

DAY FIFTY SEVEN

“Who is that?” Seungcheol asks, jerking his head toward the bar. You turn and follow his gaze to see Seokmin standing at the bar, ordering drinks. “Never seen him before.”

“Jealous?” You tease, leaning forward and batting your eyelashes at him. Seokmin is just a coworker, but it doesn’t mean you can’t poke Seungcheol a little. Except Seungcheol doesn’t laugh, leveling you with a stare, lips turning downward. “Wait, you actually are.”

“Don’t push it. It was just a question.”

“We work together,” you clarify, immediately turning off the charm when you recognize he’s not amused. “Actually I think he sort of has a thing for Vin, which is why he’s here.” 

Seungcheol hums, sipping his beer and looking away from you. Licking your lips, you reach out a hand and touch his gently, bringing his dark eyes back to you. He looks serious - more serious than you’ve ever seen him, face blank, eyes unreadable. 

“I mean it.” You squeeze his hand, trying to comfort him. “We’re just friends.” 

“Alright.” 

“I feel like you’re mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?” 

You shrug, struggling to articulate. He still has that expression you can’t read, something stark and closed off. “Just seems like it.” 

He shakes his head again, but you don’t think he’s telling the truth, watching the way his eyes shift to watch Seokmin approach. “Just tired, I think I might head out.” 

Panic grips you and you say the first thing you can think of, throwing caution to the wind. “Want to come over?” 

That gives him pause. He studies you. You feel a tightness in your throat under his scrutiny. His mouth twitches and he nods. “Alright,” he says softly. “If you want me to.”

“I do.” You squeeze his hand again. “Really.”

-

DAY SEVENTY EIGHT

“Want to do me a huge favor?” 

You look up from your spot on your couch. Seungcheol is in your kitchen, using his hip to close the door to the fridge. He lifts the lid on the package of grapes, plastic cracking loudly as he does. Leaning against the counter, he pops one into his mouth, crunching happily. 

“Besides giving you my grapes?” you ask, deadpan. He grins around them shrugging happily as he eats another. You roll your eyes, turning back to the laptop carefully balanced on your knee. “What’s the favor?” 

“We have this giant New Years Eve party at work in two weeks and I need a date.”

That gives you pause. You stare at the computer screen but you can’t make out anything on the screen. You don’t dare to turn and look at Seungcheol, fearful that the feelings his question brings out will be right on the surface of your expression.

Date. It’s a scary word. You and Seungcheol sort of go on dates all the time, but they’re not really dates. At least, not from your perspective. If you were to ask Jeonghan, he would launch into another lecture that you should just put a goddamn title on this thing. Vin happily agrees, both of them hammering you on calling the thing between you and Seuncheol what it is.

But it’s friends with benefits. Friends go out to eat meals together and go shopping together - they hangout. The benefits are the sex. It’s the pressing you against your mattress as he maps your body with his mouth, it’s the way you sink to your knees for him after he’s had a bad day at work, taking him into the heat of your mouth to make him forget. 

So yes, you’ve gone places together alone and as a friend date. But somehow this feels different, and you don’t think it’s supposed to. 

Carefully, you ask, “Your date, huh?”

“Mhmm. Free drinks and apps, and it’s at the top of that fancy new hotel. We can stay the night so we don’t have to pay for an expensive as fuck Uber” 

Not for the first time, you find yourself unsure where the line is with Seungcheol. You’ve agreed multiple times that this is just casual, a shared benefit between friends. And yet every time you feel confident in what you are, the line blurs. 

You’re as guilty as he is, you know. On more than one occasion you’re the one who has crossed the line, messing up the clear boundary the two of you have had in place for weeks. Somehow, you both manage to be utterly terrible at casual, but you’re too afraid to say something about it. Too afraid to ruin it. 

“I suppose I can be convinced.” 

“Oh? What can I do to convince you?” 

You look up as his tone turns to velvet, that voice he uses when he’s coaxing you into his lap, or when he’s- 

“It’s really hard to be sexy when there’s grape juice running down your chin, Cheol.” 

He pouts, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the lower half of his face as you laugh. He’s cute, pink lips downturned and eyes round as he sulks. “Don’t make fun of me. Just say yes to being my date.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go.” 

His grin is burnished gold, the sun breaking for first light over the horizon. “Thank you.” 

“Mhmm.” He crunches into another grape and you scowl. “Stop eating all my fucking grapes!” 

-

DAY NINETY TWO

“Holy shit,” Seungcheol mutters when you step out of the hotel bedroom. He feels his heart start to pound in his chest from where he stands in the kitchenette, fingers squeezing the glass of whiskey he poured himself earlier. “You look unreal.”

And you do. You always do. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when Jeonghan and Joshua introduced the two of you that first night at that shitty bar you like to go to on Fridays. The real kicker had been your personality, though. Warm, kind, quick wit. A bit of a history nerd, which is his favorite thing. 

Honestly, he loves a lot of things about you. He knows that he has to do something about that. Knows that this stopped being casual a long time ago. Seungcheol has no problem with casual hookups and keeping people in a rotation, but when it comes to you�� he just wants you. 

It’s like he has no idea how to keep his distance, how to keep his feelings out of it. He doesn’t mind, but he needs to figure out how to tell you. How to take that next step and move you from friends to more - if that’s what you want, anyway. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you say back neutrally. He can see the way your eyes linger on him though, your gaze betraying the calmness of your voice, as always.

You don’t get it, though. Seungcheol cannot keep his eyes off you, dragging them from top to bottom. The black dress is snug on your frame, his eyes tracing the swells of your breasts, the dip of your hips, the curve of your ass and thighs. 

Dragging his eyes back up, he meets your gaze. That is one of his favorite things. Your eyes, full of light and depth and thoughts that he always wants to fall into. There is so much simmering under the surface that you don’t say and he’s never asked.

He wants to. 

Knocking back the rest of his drink, Seungcheol leaves the glass on the counter and walks over to you. You shift from foot to foot, eyes darting up to examine the ceiling. He smirks, feeling the nerves radiating from you as he approaches. 

When he reaches out, you don’t step away from him. You let him skim his hands up your sides, going until he’s running them over your shoulders and on either side of your neck so he can cradle your face. He turns your gaze back to him and you stare up at him through your lashes. 

He was a goner on day one. How ridiculous to think he’s not just made this real, told you how he doesn’t want a single thing to be casual and superficial between you. 

Instead of stealing a searing kiss and pushing you back into the bedroom like he wants to, Seungcheol presses a short kiss to the corner of your mouth. He’s too afraid that if he starts something that you won’t make it downstairs. 

Now isn’t the time for that, though. There’s a party upstairs and free drinks and he wants to spend time with his friends. Spend time with you.

The Seungcheol that existed before you is a stranger to him. He barely remembers what it was like to have people he wasn’t genuinely interested in, what it was like to show up alone at parties and take someone home. Hardly recalls pushing people away when they wanted too much. 

All it took was meeting you.

“Come on,” he urges gently, leading you from the room and to the elevator. 

Seungcheol slides his phone from his pocket in the elevator. You press close against him, your arm brushing against his as it fills up with people. He notes where Wonwoo tells him to meet and puts his phone back in his pocket, leaning into you a little.

You let him, making his mouth twitch upward. You always let him do what he wants, and when you don’t, an easy pout gets his way. He’s wrapped around your finger, too. He doesn’t know if you realize it, but he would give you anything you wanted without a moment's hesitation. 

When the elevator doors open, Seungcheol takes your hand. You let him pull you into the party teeming with people, the sound of music swelling over the dull roar of the crowd. You stick closer to him, fingers squeezing him tightly as the pair of you walk toward the check-in table. 

“This is beautiful,” you murmur to him. 

His first instinct is to look at you because you are beautiful. You’re not looking at him, your neck craned to sweep over the party. He smiles at you, watching the glow of your side profile, eyes wide with wonder.

Dragging his eyes from your face, he glances around the party. It is gorgeous, with views of the entire city glittering beneath the building like a bed of stars, shimmering decorations reflecting the golden lights, a giant clock to show the time, and massive flower arrangements. 

“It’s nice,” he agrees, shuffling to the table where he gives his name. “Choi Seungcheol.”

“Perfect, thanks.” The person working the table peels two wristbands and gestures for you both to hold out your wrists. You let go of his hand to do so, letting the attendant wrap your arm in a blue band. “Have a great night, Mr. and Mrs. Choi.” 

Both of you blink in surprise. You open and close your mouth as if you’re unsure how to correct them and Seungcheol laughs, shrugging as he takes your hand and leads you out of the line and into the party proper this time.

“This way, wifey.” 

You roll your eyes but grin anyway, looping your arm through his offered one and tugging him close. He’s satisfied, leading you through the tight crowd of people toward the south bar that Wonwoo had said their friends were waiting at.

Joshua spots you and waves you both over, making room at the bar for you to join. Jeonghan’s eyes flick to where your arm is looped through Seungcheol to Seungcheol himself, raising a brow. Seungcheol glares at him, urging him to shut up and Jeonghan grins, turning to order drinks at the bar. 

Wonwoo claps Seungcheol on the back in greeting before kissing you on both cheeks and letting you sit on the only barstool available. Seungcheol moves with you pressed to your back as he leans an elbow on the bar, keeping you close. You lean into him, earning a shy smile that he tries to hide behind the rim of the champagne glass that Jeonghan hands him.

He likes this. He likes being with his friends. He likes the way you laugh and lean back further into him when you do. He likes that his friends don’t bother the two of you about being attached at the hip. And he likes the way your face lights up every time he jokingly calls you wifey. 

Seungcheol wants this. 

He doesn’t recall the last time he wanted a relationship the way he wants with you. It doesn’t matter anyway. Everything before you is gone and forgotten, and what matters now are the things that are post-meeting-you. 

Plied with lots of champagne and your laughter, Seungcheol lets you drag him onto the dance floor, wrapping your arms around him as he spins you. He doesn’t know what has him more drunk, the alcohol or you. He thinks it might be you. 

The DJ announces that it’s one minute until midnight, making Seungcheol spin and look up at the clock. The partygoers cheer, clustering together to press toward the clock to count down. Seungcheol wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you close in the tight crowd. 

His heart flutters as he watches the numbers countdown, realizing he gets to kiss you at midnight. He’s kissed you over a hundred times by now, but the prospect makes him giddy. His heart races as the numbers drop and he looks at you from the corner of your eye.

You’re watching the clock, uncontrolled happiness on your face as you yell with the rest of the crowd, counting each number as it passes by. 

When the clock strikes midnight, you peer up at him, suddenly unsure. He can’t believe you don’t see it, that you’d doubt for one second that he wants you to be his first kiss of the year. His heart seizes, dipping down with a smile to press his lips to yours.

Your mouth is warm and champagne-sweet, making him groan in the back of his throat. Your fingers cling to his hip, holding him by the waist as he slips a hand up to the back of your neck to hold you in place, deepening the kiss. 

When you pull your mouth away, he makes up his mind. Fuck everything he said about keeping it casual - he doesn’t want to go another minute without you knowing what he wants. 

-

DAY NINETY THREE

“Be my girlfriend.”

The words that come from Seungcheol’s lips catch you off guard. A giggle bursts to your lips and you lean back, trying to examine him from a little farther away. You feel the glitter of champagne in your veins and the same buzz that comes with being near Seungcheol, wondering if maybe he’s had too much to drink.

“What?” you ask, examining his face. He’s flushed, lips pink and smiling, but his eyes are dark and serious.

“Be my girlfriend,” he says again, this time quieter. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath fans your face, warm and sweetened by champagne. “I know we agreed to be casual so if you don’t want more, that’s fine. But there is nothing casual about the way I feel about you.”

Heart thundering, you laugh and cling to him a little tighter. He nudges you with his head, as though asking what’s so funny. You don’t know how to put into words that you’ve wanted to be not casual for a long time, that you are dizzy with the prospect of being something more, that he’s just made the first minute of your year perfect.

Instead of trying to string together the words to tell him, you kiss him. His mouth turns upward, letting you press your palms to the sides of his face, holding him to your lips. There’s no one else but just the two of you, entirely in your own bubble on the rooftop. 

Relief mixed with euphoria floods your system. It’s a weight lifted off your shoulders, realizing that you’re not crazy, that nothing you feel about Seungcheol is casual and that’s okay. That he feels it too. 

Your fingers slide into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling slightly. He groans, separating your mouths to peer down at you, his lashes fanning when he blinks, dazed. 

“Don’t do that,” he whispers. “This is a work party. I’ll fold right here.” 

“So take me somewhere that isn’t here and fold.”

His gummy smile is blinding, your heart soaring. “Alright, wifey.” 

“Gonna need a ring pop at a minimum if you’re gonna keep saying that shit.”

He links your fingers together, stepping away from you. He tugs you after him and you follow. “Deal. What flavor?”

“Strawberry. I kind of want to suck something else right now, though.” 

Seungcheol groans and you laugh, loving the way he visibly struggles as your words land. He walks faster, a new pep in his step as you make your way toward the elevator. He shouts Wonwoo’s name as he goes, waving his hand to tell him that you’re leaving. 

Wonwoo’s grin is all-knowing as he throws two thumbs up, cheering happily. You tingle with a little bit of embarrassment, scurrying toward the closing elevator door to catch it. It opens again and you both slip inside, alone and buzzing from the party and your newfound status. 

The door closes and Seungcheol pushes in close. You press against the wall, looking up at his sharp grin, his nose nudging yours. His lips are almost on yours, the heat of them against your mouth making you dizzy and the heavy weight of his body against yours making your thoughts sticky. 

“Gonna suck something else, huh?” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Wanna do it right here in the elevator?” 

“Huh?” 

He bursts into laughter at your wide gaze, tapping the underside of your chin with his knuckle in jest. “I’m kidding. Unless…”

You shove him away and he starts laughing again, bending over with the force of it. You can’t be annoyed by his teasing, loving the way his eyes crease at the corner and how he laughs with the full force of his body. 

“You’re so annoying.” 

“You should have seen your face, though.” 

“I mean I’ll do it right now, if you want.”

His smile drops and he opens his mouth a little, shocked. “Wait, really?”

“No, but you should have seen your face.”

The elevator arriving at the appropriate floor saves him from answering. He scowls at you and you giggle, grabbing him and pushing him into the hall and toward your room. He turns on his heel, falling into step with you and fishing the room key out of his pocket. 

It’s cold in the room when you enter. Seungcheol had booked a one bedroom suite with a small living room and kitchenette. It was more than what you needed for the night, but it feels nice, like your own private getaway. 

Taking you by the hand, he walks backward toward the bedroom, pulling you along. His smile is beautiful and you wear a matching one. A thrill shoots through you when you realize that Seungcheol is yours. Really yours. 

Sitting on the bed, he pulls you into his lap. Your knees sink in the mattress on either side of his hips, ass resting on his thighs. Leaning over him, you link your hands behind the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the silky hair there. 

Seungcheol tilts his face up toward you, eyes fluttering as you play with his hair. His arms loop around your waist, squeezing you. 

“Hi,” he breathes. 

“Hi.”

Leaning down, you slot your mouth against his. He tastes like champagne, mouth warm. Kissing him takes your breath away, thoughts guttering out as he licks into your mouth hungrily. You lose yourself in the feeling of him, feeling like you’re on fire. 

Seungcheol falls backward on the bed. His lips are swollen and pink, eyes heavy-lidded as he stares up at you. He reaches for you but you give him a coy smile and slip from his lap, crouching to the floor and running your hands along his thighs, feeling them flex beneath your touch. 

You love Seungcheol’s thighs. Your nails drag across the fabric and he lets out a breathy sound. His muscles twitch as you reach to brush your fingers over his zipper, making sure to press into his cock. His hips jerk upward at the barest hint of stimulation and you grin.

“It’s no elevator,” you tease. “But will this do?” 

“Fucking anywhere will do.” 

Seungcheol has always been sensitive. He’s easy to rile, cock already firm by the time you’re undoing his belt and he’s helping you pull his dress pants down his thighs. You eye the dark patch in his briefs, proud that with just a little bit of kissing and some light touching he’s already leaking at the tip.

Sitting high on your knees, you lean forward, tongue pressing wetly to the tip of his cock through the fabric. A hand shoots to the back of your head, his fingers gripping you firmly as you laugh, tongue still pressed to him and soaking through his briefs.

“Don’t you dare tease me tonight,” he warns, voice shaky. “That is not wifey behavior.” 

You remove your tongue, pouting and moving to press a kiss to his thigh. “You never let me tease you.” 

“I’m not patient.” Your teeth scrape the softness of his flesh and his legs twitch, knees knocking your shoulder. “Baby, I am so serious.”

Biting your bottom lip to hide a smile, you give in. You know with certainty he’d let you drag this out if you really wanted to. Seungcheol is impatient and greedy and demanding, but he also lets you do what you want when it comes down to it. 

Instead of testing his grace, you peel his briefs down, freeing his cock. Your mouth waters at his thick length, your hand automatically reaching up to grab him. You swipe your thumb through the precum gathered, using it to slide down the full length of his shaft.

Seungcheol’s hips buck. You grip him properly, working him slowly as you shuffle closer on your knees. They already hurt, hotel carpet digging into them but you ignore it in favor of watching the way his fingers slowly undo the button of his shirt, needing to shuck the fabric off. 

“You’re pretty,” you note absently. His stomach flexes when he sits up to slide his shirt off of his shoulders. He looks down at you, pupils dilated. “Very, very pretty.” 

“You’re a work of art yourself.”

Instead of laying back down flat, he leans back on his palms, letting his head fall back. Seungcheol shuts his eyes, face tilted up at the ceiling as though in prayer. “Feels good.”

Humming happily, you lean forward and slowly run the flat of your tongue up the base of his shaft. That draws a low moan out of him, his chest rising and falling as he pants. You’re fascinated by his reactions, watching his face and body language carefully as you swirl your tongue around the crown of his cock.

He’s responsive, fingers digging into the sheets in an effort not to grab your head and take control. He’s testing his patience, letting you bring him into the wet heat of your mouth at your pace, sucking lazily. 

“Fuck,” he groans. You hum around him and he shakes his head, shivering. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Good you think, setting a proper place as you swallow him down, letting your spit pool to help make the glide easier. It’s messy and wet, just the way Seungcheol likes it, his moans backtracking the slick sounds coming from your mouth.

What you can’t fit in your mouth properly, you cover with your hand, squeezing periodically as you stroke upward, meeting your stretched lips. 

“God,” Seungcheol whispers. “You know how to suck cock.”

Pulling off of him with a wet pop, you grin, feeling the sting in your mouth from the stretch. Your lips are cum and spit-slicked, sticky as you continue to stroke him. 

“Thanks,” you laugh. “I heard I’m wifey material.”

“Fucking, shit, yeah a little bit. Fuckkkk, mouth please.” 

You comply, sucking him back into your mouth. He’s putty underneath you, hips twitching off the bed a little as soft sounds drip from his mouth. You watch, totally hypnotized by the way he moved, the way his hairline gets a little sweaty as he nods, encouraging you. 

Biting his lip, he lifts a hand from the bed to grab at you, pulling you off of him. “Come here,” he growls, opening his. 

Seungcheol pulls you to him, not caring that your mouth is a mess. His tongue delves in, exploring the mixed taste of champagne and precum, hands pulling at your dress to peel it off of you. 

“Let me sit against the headboard,” he pants, breaking the kiss to scoot backward. You peel your underwear off and toss them, following him across the mattress as he settles. He pats his lap and reaches for you. “Come here, baby.” 

You settle into his lap again, mouth melding to his. His hands explore you, gripping your ass, squeezing your waist, running up your front to pinch at your nipples. You moan into his mouth, carding your fingers in his hair and pulling at the stimulation, your head tilting back a little.

He takes the opportunity to attach his lips to your throat, biting sharply and soothing the sting with his tongue. Sinking a little lower, you feel your pussy brush against his cock and you sigh, gently rolling your hips to slide your sticky folds up his shaft. 

Seungcheol groans against you, mouth feverish against your skin. He maps your throat, kissing and biting his way to your chest, where he steals a pert nipple into his mouth to give a harsh suck. You squeal and he grins, plucking at your sensitive bud with his teeth. 

Holding onto him, you let him lavish attention to your tits the way he wants, hands squeezing, tongue flicking. It feels good. Aflame, you continue to roll your hips shallowly in his waist, just giving the barest of stimulation to you both.

A hand slides between your legs, his fingers finding your swelling clit, pressing against it. You whine loudly, fighting off a violent shiver. He grins where he has your breast in his mouth, sucking generously as he lazily circles your clit with his fingers. 

“Cheol,” you whisper-whine. “You said no teasing.”

“I said no teasing me.” His fingers slide backward and dip into your entrance teasingly. You clench around nothing, aching for him to do something. “Flustered, huh?” 

“Please give me something.”

He presses his lips against the side of your jaw, grinning. “Fine.” He sinks a single finger into you and you sigh in immediate relief. It isn’t enough but it’s something, your hips rocking to take him in deeper. “Better?”

“I can take more.” 

“Of course you can.” He pushes in another finger, the stretch so good. “You’re my girl. You can take what I give you.”

Dropping your head to his shoulder, you nod. You hide your face in his flushed skin, riding his fingers as he slowly slides them home, working you gently. They press against your sensitive spot and you curse, gripping him a little tighter. 

Impatient and needing more, you grind yourself forward, fucking his hand properly. He laughs, letting you take what you need, cupping you fully so the heel of his palm grinds into your clit. Your movements are frenzied, driven by the desire for him, the feeling curling inside you. 

“Just like that,” he encourages. “Fuck yourself on my fingers just like that.” 

You do, thighs aching and body shaking. The sheets stick to your legs as you work yourself up, sweaty palms sliding against Seungcheol’s shoulders. He whispers in your ear, voice low and scratchy, adding to the building mania inside of you. 

“Shit,” you hiss, feeling the tightness in your stomach start to boil over. 

“Come on, come around my fingers. You got it.” 

His gentle voice pushes you over all the way and you clench around his fingers, coming undone. Your hips stop moving and your legs squeeze around his as you seize up. Seungcheol is having none of it, taking the lead to drive his fingers up into you as you flutter around him.

“Oh,” you gasp as he finer fucks you through the rest of your orgasm, sucking at a tender spot on your neck until you’re trembling and a mess. “Okay, okay, okay.” 

Seungcheol takes it easy on you, pulling his fingers from between your legs with a slick noise. You heave against him, catching your breath while he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks obnoxiously. 

“Mmm.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He smacks your ass and you squeak. “Ride my cock like that?” 

Huffing, you extend to your full height on your knees. He grabs the base of his shaft, eyes fixed on the mess between your legs as you sink down slowly. His tip breaches you, both of you letting out a sound as you keep going, holding your breath as he stretches you open.

Seungcheol taps your waist. “Breathe.” 

You do, inhaling a breath as you nestle in his lap, seated fully, clenching around him. “Thanks.”

“Mhmm.” 

Seungcheol’s hands move up your sides, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. This time, you know the look in his eye is real. His gaze is covetous, looking at you like you’re his because you are. 

You catch his hands with yours, linking your finger and squeezing. He smiles, looking up at you with dark locks of hair in his face. You smile back, starting to roll your hips, using his hands to steady yourself.

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. The cool air of the hotel room brushes across your back, making you shiver. The mattress dips under your movement, your thighs flexing to keep your balance steady, Seungcheol’s grip on you helping. 

“You’re so perfect,” Seungcheol mutters, using your linked hands to pull you toward him. Your hands slip from him, going to the headboard to help lift you instead. His grip finds your waist, aiding in your movement while his mouth finds your breasts. “God these tits.” 

An ache settles in your thighs but you ignore it, chasing an orgasm. You tremble in his hold, breath punching out of you as he mumbles your name, watching you with fucked out eyes and lips parted, like you’re giving him everything he ever wanted.

You kind of feel that way. The way he looks at you isn’t that different from before, but now you’re confident in it, realizing that everything with Seungcheol felt too intimate because it was. Casual was never the right name for it, neither of you having any idea how to really be no strings attached. 

“My fucking legs hurt,” you admit, panting. “Can you take over?” 

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol surges forward, knocking you backward onto the bed. You laugh, bouncing a little as he pulls out and helps maneuver you. “Turn around for me.” 

With shaking arms, you follow his instruction. The sheets cling to you as you roll, making you huff and swat at them. He chuckles, peeling them away from your sweaty skin while you settle on your stomach, arching your ass a little. 

He palms your left cheek, groaning and dragging his blunt nails down the curve to your hip where he grabs you. “Unreal,” he whispers, to either you or himself. 

You gasp when he thrusts pack in, punching the air from your lungs as he sets a sharp pace. You jostle on the bed, grabbing the sheets and knotting your hands in them to keep you in place, a stream of whimpers leaving you. 

A hand slips up your spine, pressing flat between your shoulder blades, pushing you down further into the bed. You gasp and nod, Seungcheol taking it as a sign to put more weight into it, angling his hips so he’s fucking down into you. 

It’s hard to breathe, the dizziness taking over as your skin starts to turn to static, orgasm so close that you can feel the buzz between your legs. He keeps going like that, pinning you hard to the bed as his hips crash into yours. 

His name leaves your mouth in a cry as you squeeze around him, letting loose. He curses, picking up his pace, ignoring the wet squelch as he does, palm pressing you harder into the bed as you come. 

You think you might disintegrate, unable to do anything but make broken sounds as he chases his orgasm. Just when you think you might not get another breath, he comes, the pressure on your back lifting a little. You gasp for air, feeling the room tilt as his thrusts slow, becoming gentle. 

Seungcheol’s hands are soothing on your back, fingers dancing up and down your spine, delicate. He’s muttering something to you but you can’t hear him, the pounding of your heart far too loud, pulse rattling in your ears. 

When his hips are still, his hands keep moving. He leans over you, careful not to put his weight on you, mouth kissing across your shoulders. Your cheek is pressed flat against the sheet as you pant, coming down from a fever pitch. 

“You okay if I get up and get you water?” the question is whispered across your cheek, where Seungcheol presses a tender kiss. You nod and he kisses you again before peeling away from you. 

Laying in the bed, you drift, listening to him shuffle around to the kitchen. You’re sleepy but more aware now. When the bed dips again, you crack your eye open, watching as he navigates carefully on his knees, two glasses of water in hand. 

“Can you sit up or do you need help?” You shake your head and muster the strength you have left to sit up. Your muscles spasm as you do, a groan leaving your mouth as the room spins from the change in perspective. “You okay?”

“Thirsty,” you rasp, reaching for the glass he offers. Gulping down the cool water, you’re aware of his eyes on you, watching you drain the glass as he sips his. “Thank you.”

He takes the empty glass and kisses your lips. “Mhmm. Need more?”

“No, I’m good. I just need to sleep for five hundred years, no big deal.” 

“Damn, five hundred goes crazy. Do you think we’ll have flying cars by then?” 

Seungcheol puts both glasses on the nightstand and peels back the covers of the bed. He slips under them, patting the spot next to him. You crawl over, limbs heavy and uncoordinated. He laughs at you and you scowl, but manage to clamber in next to him, warm beneath the blankets and tucked into his chest.

“Yes, definitely. And like giant sexy holograms advertising porn, probably.”

“That’s the first thing you think of in the future? Porn?”

“Listen,” you huff, laying your head against his chest and closing your eyes. “I’m still a little champagne buzzed and you just fucked me until I couldn’t breathe for a while. Cut me slack.” 

“Sure thing, wifey.” 

“Ugh. Is that our thing now?” 

“Mhmm. Everything pre-relationship has henceforth been replaced with the relationship-only era. Pretend you have amnesia.” 

A huff of laughter leaves you. “Sure thing.” 

“I mean I feel like I have amnesia.” You give him a questioning look. He’s contemplative, staring with unseeing eyes as he plays with your fingers. “I had an entire life and habits before you, and I swear it’s like sometimes my memory actually starts with that first night at the bar.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re just around a lot and I like to think it’s always been that way. And I’m kind of sorry for taking so long to admit nothing about this was casual for me.” 

You smile. “Wasn’t for me either.” 

“Good.” He snuggles into you, settling in silence for a few moments. “Thanks for letting me win pool that first night.” 

“I did not let you win that game, oh my god.” 

“Just admit it! You wanted to taste my goodies and you let me win.” 

“I’m gonna give you some damn amnesia,” you mutter, but grin as he hugs you tight.

“Sure thing, wifey. Sure thing.” 

TAG LIST:

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched @abibliolife @eoieopda @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy @gyuguys @codeinebelle @ateez-atiny380 @bultaereume @yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries @archivistworld @asyre @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona @beckyloveshannie @imujings

[cinnamanz]

# ONLY ON CAMERA — chapter fifty-one!

when katseye's main dancer daniela avanzini accidentally throws shade at chart-topping singer y/n l/n on an interview, the internet erupts in chaos. with y/n already in hot waters with the press over her latest scandal, both their pr teams scramble for damage control. the solution? a 'picture-perfect' fake relationship to turn the headlines in their favor.

wc: 720 (its the last written chapter bro dont be lazy nd read it😔)

SHE

THE KNOCK AT THE DOOR WAS FAINT AT FIRST, almost swallowed by the roar of the rain. y/n glanced up from her phone, a furrow forming on her brow. another knock—firmer this time, more urgent. she sighed, setting her phone down and making her way to the door, her pulse quickening despite herself.

when she opened it, she froze.

there stood daniela, soaked to the skin, rainwater streaming from her hair and dripping off the hem of her jacket. she looked as messy as the storm outside—eyes rimmed red, lips trembling, her breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts.

y/n’s voice caught in her throat. “what are you doing he—”

“i’m sorry.” the words tumbled out of daniela’s mouth before y/n could finish, her voice breaking. “i’m so sorry. “just let me talk. let me—let me explain.”

y/n stepped back slightly, her hand tightening on the doorknob. “you shouldn’t be here,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

“i know,” daniela said, her voice breaking. “but i couldn’t stay away. i can’t—” she paused, dragging a hand through her wet hair, her shoulders trembling. “i can’t keep running from this. from you.”

y/n didn’t move, her hand gripping the door frame as she tried to steel herself. “why now?” she asked, her voice quieter than she’d meant it to be, the hurt bleeding through despite her effort to hold it back.

daniela blinked, tears slipping free and mixing with the rain still streaking down her face. “because i’ve been a coward,” she said, her voice raw. “because i’ve spent every second since i left you trying to convince myself i was better off alone, that i didn’t need this—didn’t need you. but i do. i need you, y/n.”

“i know i hurt you. i know i pushed you away, lied to myself, lied to you. i told myself it was better that way. that it was safer. but all i’ve done is destroy the one good thing i’ve ever had. you don’t deserve this,” daniela continued, her voice trembling, raw and unguarded. “you don’t deserve to be someone’s second choice or their escape. you deserve to be loved the way you love—completely, without hesitation. and i was too much of a coward to give that to you.”

y/n closed her eyes. “you think an apology fixes this? that just saying you’re sorry makes it all okay?”

“no,” daniela said, her voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t expect it to. but i had to try. because i love you. and if there’s even the smallest chance that you’ll let me prove it to you, then i’ll take it. even if it means standing here all night in the rain.”

y/n’s eyes opened, locking on daniela’s, and for the first time in weeks, she saw something in her gaze that felt genuine—raw and unguarded in a way daniela had never allowed herself to be.

she stepped back, the door swinging wider. “you’re an idiot. come in,” y/n said softly, the words catching in her throat.

daniela hesitated for a moment, as if she couldn’t believe it, before stepping through the threshold. y/n didn’t speak as she shut the door behind her, didn’t look at her, but when daniela turned, y/n’s arms were already around her, pulling her into an embrace that was as much a lifeline as it was a question.

“you’re a huge idiot.” daniela let out a sound at y/n’s words—a mix of a sob and a laugh—as y/n pulled her into a hug, the warmth of her embrace cutting through the chill. the rain from daniela’s skin and clothes attached themselves to y/n’s own clothes, fabric darkening as daniela pulled her closer, hug tightening.

“i love you.” the words fell from daniela’s lips, soft and certain, like they’d been waiting their whole life to find their way to y/n. they settled in the air between them, filling the space with something tender and warm, spreading through y/n’s chest like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

y/n’s cheeks flushed as a slow, uncontainable smile spread across her face. she hid her face in daniela’s neck, her voice barely above a whisper but full of passion that seeped through the seams. “i love you more.”

masterlist 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆ next

is that... FLUFF??????

taglist : @meganskiendielsbtc @rosiehrs @artrizzler19 @goofymickeyr @sunshinez4 @urmom2314 @meizinisnumberone @yeetaberry127 @xochitlisbest @ssamlovr @saysirhc @nyssalvr @ninguitar @kristalag @1luvkarina @idleyuri @kathleenmikaelson @sed7ction @hazel-tanthamore22 @yazzyminny @vrtualstar @meiphobic @cassiespoiler @yjiminswallet @gtfoiydlyj @taikabui @cceanvvaves @c-yerim @waitsobs @firstclassjaylee @bowforgodjihyo @thepurin @chaepu @bandaidss320 @manonsmartini @haerinkisser @esccecvp @blushmimi TAGLIST CLOSED!

[heartsforvin]

RUN FOR THE HILLS

this one’s been in my notes for a minute, excited to bring it to life !! it might be long so be ready !!

pairing: fwb!vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: angst, smut, cussing, use of pet names, arguing, manipulating, toxic relationship, toxic!vinnie, praise kink, if i missed anything lmk !

summary: you thought the friends with benefits relationship with vinnie would become something more, it seemed clear. to him, it wasn’t nothing but the benefits

you were in a bad place, a bad relationship at that. you and vinnie had started a friends with benefits agreement months ago, and for while everything was going great.

until one day the he just snapped. he became more toxic, more manipulative with you.

in your head you knew you had to get out of this situation, but you were too attached, too obsessed with the blonde to even really think straight.

essentially, you started to fall for him, and you knew it wasn't right. the toxicity was one of the main things that wasn't right, but you just couldn't run away from him.

he was manipulative with you, and for while you didn't even notice it. nothing ever got physical between the two of you, just the way he manipulated you was enough for it to be awful.

one minute the two of you are screaming and fighting, and the next, you’re in his bed.

he was almost like a drug, you were addicted to him. the sweet words he’d say, the way he’d touch you, almost everything he did held you captivated.

you knew he was leading you on, but something about the attention he’s giving you was enough to make you stay.

you wanted something more, wanted to be his. that was before he started showing the toxic, manipulative side of him however.

so now, here you are, in his apartment fighting with him yet again.

“are you scared of commitment, is that it?” you ask, tone harsh.

vinnie sighs, running a hand through his hair. he doesn’t know what he wants. he wants you, that’s for sure.

“i don’t know,” he says quietly to where you almost can’t hear him. “i just… you’re just..” he stumbles over his words.

crossing your arms over your chest, you glare at him. “i’m just what?” you ask.

the blonde huffs out of frustration, not knowing how to express his feelings.

“you can’t keep putting me through this.” you say quietly but loud enough to be heard.

vinnie looks up at you. “putting you through what?” he asks.

you scoff. it was obvious what he was doing, if you knew it, it was definitely obvious.

“the toxicity of this!” you shout. “manipulating me, thinking i’m going to be something to you when you know im just a body for you.”

you watch as he clicks his tongue, almost mocking your words in his head. he comes closer to you, putting his arms around your waist.

yours instinctively go around his neck, smiling up at him as they do. you don’t know what it is about him that just makes you melt everytime his hands are on you.

“this feels right, yeah?” he asks in a low tone, making a shiver run down your spine.

he watches you nod. “words, baby.” he tells you, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“it feels right.” you tell him.

vinnie smiles, leaning down to kiss your cheek softly. “it does.” he says again.

you nod, being captivated by his touch and soft words. you look up at him and smile, his eyes staring back at you.

why was someone so bad for you also so good to you but in the wrong way possible?

“i’m sorry.” you whisper after moments of silence.

vinnie shakes his head, his hand coming up to your jaw, stroking it gently. “it’s okay, you didn’t mean it, i know you didn’t.”

his soft words blocked out the same manipulative ones. the same ones he just spoke.

you lean into his touch and smile at him again. “you wanna know somethin’?” you hear him ask.

humming, you wait for a response. “you’re hot when you get mad,” he chuckles softly. “makes me wanna make you mad all the time just to get a rise ‘outta you.”

you chuckle softly. “hm,” you hum. “you saying you get turned on seeing me mad?”

vinnie nods, smirk growing on his face. “exactly, and there’s only one way to fix that.”

you smile. “yeah, what’s that?” you tease.

vinnie hates when you tease him, he can’t stand it. it makes him feel like he’s less in control.

“don’t do that.” he warns.

you smile at him. “do what, baby?” you ask ever so innocently.

he huffs. “you know what. you know i don’t like that, and if you keep it up i won’t let you have the one thing you want.”

you know he’s serious, but his tone almost makes you laugh. vinnie glares at you for a minute before speaking.

“don’t make me do it.” he warns, making your smirk turn into a straight face.

the two of you stand there for a minute before vinnie leans in and presses his lips to yours. your arms go around his neck again while his grip your waist.

it was wrong, you knew you needed out of this, out of all of it. something about this though felt so right.

so wrong, but so right.

you feel the two of you move back to the couch, vinnie pushes you onto it before getting on top of you, kissing you once more.

it turns more aggressive, more heated, and fast. your hands move up to his hair, tugging slightly, making him groan into your mouth.

he moves his hips, pressing them down into yours which makes you moan softly into his mouth.

he smiles against your lips before moving to your neck, sucking and biting, creating dark bruises.

your grip on his hair becomes tighter each time he sucks a bruise onto your skin.

“vinnie,” you whisper out as he continues to leave marks on you. “baby.”

he hums against your skin before pulling away. “you want me, sweetheart?” he asks in a teasing tone.

he knows you do, but wants to hear you say it anyways.

“yes, please.” you say, it comes out more as a beg than a statement.

he moves his hand down your body, stopping once he reaches your pants. “yeah?” he teases again.

all you can do is nod. the need growing each passing minute. you have no doubt he’ll be able to see your wetness all over your panties once he takes your jeans off.

he smiles. “can i take these off?” he asks, to which you nod.

he takes your pants off, throwing them somewhere in the room before his hand makes contact with your thigh.

you watch as his hand moves closer to where you need him. once he reaches the waistband of your panties, you watch as he moves farther down.

a strangled moan leaves your lips when his middle finger rubs against you through your panties.

vinnie looks up at you and chuckles. “you like that, princess?” he asks.

you nod. “yes.” you say breathlessly.

he hums, continuing his movements. “maybe i should just do this, seems like you’ll be able to cum in no time.” he teases.

you whine, shaking your head. “no?” he asks. “you were such a bad girl though, yelling at me earlier.”

his tone is mocking, condescending almost, you can hear it. whining, you shake your head again.

“please, i’ll be good.” you tell him.

vinnie bites the inside of his cheek, his finger never stopping its movements against you. “you’ll be good, huh?”

you nod. “please,” you beg. “i promise i’ll be good for you.”

he hums, stopping his movements, making you whine at the loss of contact. “you promise?” he asks.

nodding, you reply, “i promise. please, vinnie.” you beg him again.

he smiles, hand moving up your panties until he reaches the waistband again. “m’gonna take these off and give you what you want, okay?”

you nod, biting your lip to suppress noise.

once they’re off, he tosses them somewhere before looking back down at you. “so pretty.” he mumbles.

you smile, but then tug at his shirt, making him look at you. “use your words, sweetheart.” he reminds you.

“can you…can you take yours off?” vinnie chuckles at your question and you duck your head, feeling dumb for asking.

you watch him stand up and remove his shirt, then pants and boxers with them.

he leans back down and pulls you up to remove your shirt and bra as well, lying you back down on the couch.

you hiss at the feeling of him rubbing against you as he lays down again. “you gonna be a good girl f’me, right?” he asks again.

you nod. “yes.” you whisper.

vinnie smiles, leaning up to kiss your cheek. “good,” he whispers. “you ready?”

he doesn’t really give you time to respond before he’s inside you. he’s hovering over you, the chain he decided to wear that day dangling right in your face as his pace picks up.

you grip onto his shoulders as you clench around him, making him moan softly at the feeling.

“feel s’fuckin’ good, princess.” he grunts as he looks down at you.

you smile, or try to the best you can since the pleasure takes over. you look down and see vinnie’s hand reach for your chest, squeezing your right breast, making you moan and clench around him more.

profanities leave the blondes lips as he feels you tighten around him, his pace quickening.

“it’s like you were made for me,” he rasps. “prettiest girl in the world.”

it’s probably the heat of the moment, but something in you feels warm and fuzzy when he says that.

he’s only said that a handful of times, and each time you wish he truly meant it.

maybe he did and it was just your mind telling you didn’t. or maybe the manipulation has really gotten to you.

“vinnie,” you whimper as you feel him hit a good spot. “shit.”

he chuckles softly. “bein’ such a good girl f’me, sweetheart,” he rasps. “always so good for me.”

all you can do is nod and bite your lip to not let too loud of sounds slip from you.

“let it out, princess,” he grunts. “wanna hear who makes you feel this good.”

you do as he says. the minute his hand reaches down and you feel his thumb rub tight circles on your clit, you’re moaning loudly.

“that’s my girl.” he praises with a smile.

he knows you’re close, so he keeps his thumb right where it’s at. “be a good girl and cum for me, baby.”

you whine again, clenching around him at his words and at the feeling of everything.

before you have time to warn him, you’re cumming around him with a moan of his name.

vinnie helps you ride out your high before finishing right behind you.

the two of you lay there for a minute before he gets up and puts his clothes back on.

you do the same, feeling a little sad at the fact there was no real aftercare, but there never really was with him.

“why don’t you do aftercare?” the words spill out of you before you can even process what you’re saying.

you’ve always wanted to ask but never got the courage to, you guessed now was your time.

“what?” vinnie asks after a few moments.

you fix your hair and sit on the arm of the couch, still needing to clean up the cushions.

“why don’t we ever just relax a minute, you know? put on a movie, cuddle?” you ask.

vinnie laughs. “you know i don’t do that shit,” he says coldly. “you’ll get attached if i do.”

you scoff. here it comes again, the fighting. “i’ll get attached?” you ask, repeating his words.

he crosses his arms over his chest. “come on, you know you would. i’m not that kind of guy anyways.”

“it’s basic human decency after sex,” you say in a stern tone. “are you serious?”

he looks at you and you hate the way he does. he’s getting angry, you’re getting under his skin.

“it’s not that big a deal,” he scoffs. “i don’t need you gettin’ attached and wanting to be with me other than sex. isn’t that all this is?”

you can’t help but feel a stab to your heart at his words. you wanted it to be more, his words, his actions, made it seem like it’d be more.

“i guess.” you mumble quietly.

vinnie scoffs. “see? this is exactly what i mean.” he says.

“what?!” you ask, throwing your hands in the air. “i’m sorry i want just the tiniest bit of aftercare, im sorry you can’t give that to me. maybe i should just go.”

vinnie bites the inside of his cheek. “maybe you should,” he says quietly. “maybe i shouldn’t have started this with you. it’s clear you’re already getting attached.”

all you do is walk past him and shove his shoulder as you grab your things. this isn’t what was supposed to happen.

“you keep manipulating me, thinking we can be more than just whatever we are,” you sigh. “i can’t handle it. i can’t handle your stupid words, your touches. it’s too toxic, vinnie.” you explain.

he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “so what? you wanna end it?” he asks.

you finally turn around to face him. “i wanna end it.” you tell him.

vinnie nods. “okay, it’s over then. everything. no more touches, no more kissing, no more sex. it’s all done.” he says.

you nod, trying to keep your cool. “alright,” you sigh. “this is goodbye then.”

vinnie nods, opening the door for you and holding it. “this is goodbye.” he repeats quietly.

you nod your head before stepping out of his apartment. you hear him shut the door and that’s when you let all your emotions out.

it was clear he only wanted one thing while you wanted everything.

finally getting this out !!! sorry it took so long, was tryna figure out how i wanted it to go

i hope you all enjoyed though !!!

tags: @deansbeer , @nativegirltapes , @khackerr , @sturnioloshacker , @visualbutterflysworld , @louloulemons-blog , @laylasbunbunny , @leqonsluv3r , @kayleighh , @khxna , @defnotayonna , @skye-44 , @jpg3 , @slvthrs , @bernelflo , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @hallecarey1 , @miilzzy , @kriissy4gov , @supabhad , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @submattenthusiast

[women-in-ssports]

Ch 1 Alumni Weekend

Ch 2 here

Ch 3 here

Azzi’s gaze lingered on Paige for a fraction of a second longer than she intended, and in that moment, everything around her seemed to blur. The warmth of the room, the laughter of their old friends, the noise of the bustling crowd—it all faded as she watched Paige step through the door, hand in hand with Melody. Azzi had only heard bits and pieces about their relationship over the years, but seeing them together now, something inside her tightened, a mix of old love and regret she couldn’t shake.

It was UConn’s alumni weekend for basketball, and Azzi had been dreading this all week. She’d convinced herself it would be fine, that she could handle seeing Paige, that it was just another event, another few hours to get through. But reality was different. The memories hit her all at once—the late nights talking after games, the soft laughter shared in quiet corners, and the intensity of their connection that had once felt so natural. Back then, they were unstoppable, a perfect match in so many ways. But things changed. They changed.

The breakup after college still felt like a chasm between them. Azzi had been the one to pull away, to make the call to end it, even though deep down, part of her had never really wanted to. She could still hear Paige’s voice echoing in her head the night it happened—confused, hurt, and pleading. It had been hard, harder than Azzi had let on, but she had done it. And now, standing in this room full of old faces and half-remembered moments, it felt like the past was clawing at her again.

Her hand gripped the edge of her chair before she pushed herself up. She needed to leave. She needed space. Her legs carried her toward the door, but her mind raced—tangling between the memories of who Paige had been to her and the painful reminder that someone else held her now.

Azzi stepped into the hallway, her breath uneven. She hadn’t wanted to run. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t, that she was past it, but here she was—her heart pounding, her skin cold with panic. Just go to the bathroom, she told herself. It was the most logical thing to do. She could regroup. She could breathe. But the thought of standing there in front of a mirror, facing herself and that version of her life that felt like it belonged to someone else, was almost too much.

Leaning against the wall for a moment, Azzi closed her eyes, trying to steady herself. She had to get it together. She had to be fine. She had to move on. But as the sound of laughter from the other room drifted in, her mind wandered back to those quieter moments with Paige—the ones they had shared before everything fell apart.

Azzi’s heart was still racing as she stepped back into the main room, trying to center herself. The weight of the moment hadn’t lessened, but she forced herself to stand tall, to act like everything was fine. She was used to this, after all—putting on the mask of calm when inside she was anything but. No one here needs to see me fall apart, she reminded herself. She just needed to get through the night, like she always did.

But of course, as soon as she walked in, she ran smack into Melody.

Azzi’s body froze for a split second, and she couldn’t help but think, Of course this would happen to me. There was no time to brace for it. Melody was right there, staring up at her with those piercing eyes, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. But Azzi wasn’t going to let it show. She plastered on a smile, her dimples creasing in place.

“Oops, sorry about that,” she said smoothly, her voice light, looking down at Melody as if the collision was just a minor hiccup in the evening.

There was a brief tension, thick enough that Azzi could practically taste it, but she didn’t let it linger. Before it could settle into something heavier, Azzi gracefully sidestepped, avoiding any more awkwardness. She continued on her path back to the table, as if nothing had happened, though she could feel everyone’s eyes on her. The energy in the room shifted when she and Melody came face-to-face. Everyone here knew the story—how Paige and Azzi had been something more once, how they’d been that couple until the walls of their relationship crumbled after college.

Azzi sat down, her back straight, her posture cool and collected. She glanced briefly over at Melody, who was now walking toward the bathroom, and she caught a glimpse of her—unfazed, like nothing had happened. Melody was just a shadow of the past, and Azzi knew it. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

“Sorry about that,” Azzi said to Nika and Lou, taking her seat and seamlessly slipping back into the conversation with them. She kept her voice light, keeping herself busy. The last thing she wanted was to be caught up in the weight of the past. She was here for a reason—to celebrate, to reconnect, to move forward.

And then, of course, Paige appeared.

“Hey, guys!” Paige greeted, walking up to the table, eyes scanning the room before landing on Nika and Lou. She didn’t seem to realize Azzi was back yet, her attention still on the group. When she finally turned and spotted Azzi, she paused for a second, clearly taken aback. There was an almost imperceptible moment of hesitation before she stepped forward and extended her arms for a hug.

Azzi kept her expression neutral, calm. She wouldn’t let this rattle her, wouldn’t let the sting of seeing Paige with someone else break her composure. I’m fine, she told herself. I’m perfectly fine.

Reaching out, Azzi gave Paige a quick, tight hug, her movements controlled, the practiced ease of old friends who could move past awkwardness like it was nothing. “Hey, Paige,” Azzi said, smiling just a little too easily as she pulled away and turned back to Nika and Lou.

It was important to her—vital—that no one here thought she was falling apart. She wasn’t the girl who had her heart broken by the person she thought she’d marry. She wasn’t that girl anymore. Not here, not now. She’d moved on, or at least, that’s what she was going to show.

Azzi gave her attention back to the table, making sure to keep the conversation going, as though everything were completely normal. Her calm, controlled exterior didn’t reveal the storm she was hiding inside, but she was determined to keep it that way.

As the conversation unfolded, she noticed Paige and Melody exchange a brief glance from across the room, but Azzi didn’t let it linger in her mind. She wouldn’t let it. Tonight was for celebration. Tonight was for reclaiming herself, for finding peace in the space between her past and the life she was building. She wouldn’t let this weekend make her feel small. She wouldn’t let the ghosts of what she had with Paige define her anymore.

She had control over that. And she was going to keep it.

[bloomstream]

⋆˚࿔ love languages

the main forms of love languages the mha boys show toward you and how!

— includes : kirishima, kaminari, sero, & shinsou (in that order)

　𓂃　♪　𓈒 cw; f!reader strongly implied, feminine compliments used, established relationship, baby, girlfriend, my girl used, fluff fluff fluff, denkis is a little suggestive

𓂃　★　𓈒　a/n: this is like my head canons but in drabble format hehe! sorry shinsou's is short i'm still trying to figure out his charater ;(

⋆˚࿔ e.kirishima - shows his love by overwhelming you with care

acts of service

eijiro's main love language is absolutely 100% doing acts of service for you all the time.

he’s holding the door open for you one second and running to pull out your seat the next, grinning like a dork.

he doesn’t want you to lift a single finger doing something that he can do for you.

it’s the small things: picking up the mail, buying your favorite snack, giving you neck messages, taking out the trash, carrying you from one room to another when you don’t wanna get up.

he thinks you’re the best therefore you deserve the best.

he feels like SUCH a man when he can fix something for you.

words of affirmation

eiji also really loves to receive words of affirmation

even after fighting in a war, eijiro still feels himself having a low esteem.

though your encouraging words mean so much to him. you make him feel like he’s a capable hero. you spend hours in bed tangled up together. you hold him as you tell him how amazing he is. how he’s a strong hero, a great person, the perfect partner.

he’d get overwhelmed and cry as you shower him with love. just knowing that you think so highly of him makes me feel worthy. you definitely healed the little middle school kirishima in his heart.

eijiro might as well be a package deal because he is also amazing at giving words of affirmation. the most supportive boyfriend you could ever find.

goes in the mall dressing room with you to see you try on new outfits, he's paying (ofc). “i love that color on you baby.”

don’t even get me started with him dressing you.. flushing your shoulders with kissing as he fixes the strap of your top, every touch making you feel euphoric.

kneeling down to put your shoes on, kissing along your leg as he does. “so beautiful.” he praises the ground you walk on.

when eijiro notices that you’re doing good with work he makes sure to let you know! two big thumbs on the side of his face “doing amazing, beautiful!” and makes kissy faces towards you.

⋆˚࿔ d.kaminari - shows his love by never letting you go (literally)

physical touch

you and denki are constantly found with your hands, legs, (or both) tangled together.

chilling with bakusqaud? feet are kicking each other from across the couch. studying for case file? nope, denki can’t focus until his head is in your lap. completely drunk and dancing at a party? denki’s pressed up against you with his hand ghosting over your ass, letting everyone know you didn’t come here alone.

there’s not a single second of the day when his hands don’t snake their way onto your waist or lower hip, doesn’t matter if you're at homework, or anywhere else.

because of his touchy tendencies, you two are always showing pda and he loves it.

denki SWEARS he’s trying his best to be respectful in public, but he can’t help but get addicted to the look on other guys faces when they see you leaning up to kiss him. hes so so proud that you choose to be with him.

but don’t be fooled by the lust! denki can be romantic too; though he forever a dork.

he likes poking at ur sides when he’s teasing you. he kisses your face over and over again when you’re annoyed (until you smile a little).

gift giving

poor denki could be dirt broke, but when you come out of the dressing room wearing a top that perfectly hugs your figure his mouth drops, and his money goes poof.

“it’s so good, let’s get it yeah?” (hes gonna cry to his empty wallet when he gets home)

this prompts a lot of shopping dates which leads to a LOT of matching accessories. matching hats, hoodies, jewelry.

he has a ring with your initial on it he never takes off.

+ plus

denki has u as his lock screen and gives you (his phone) a kiss every morning he can’t sleep sleep by your side.

would tweet: “just fell down to my knees in a walmart parking lot cus my girlfriend hasn’t texted back it been 30 mintues what do i do 💔”

has you and him as his profile picture on instagram and has a highlight of you titled: “my wife (BACK OFF)”

⋆˚࿔ h.sero - shows his love by showing you off

physical touch

he grew up with parents who never left the honeymoon phase, so he knows what it’s like to feel so much love and he knows how to show it. (he also grew up with two younger sisters and an older sister and they made sure he knew the standard!)

so hanta is a romantic confirmed!!

he’ll buy you a big bouquet of flowers. buys you gifts, even for small anniversaries/celebrations. slow dances with you in your living room. prepares a warm bath for you when you're stressed.

and although he’s more mature than denki, hanta still pretty immature. so, he’ll jump at you any opportunity to get his hands on you.

hanta loves when you two are hanging out with friends, sitting on bakugos couch, and he has the chance to wrap his arm around the top of the couch. he possessively hovers his hand over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him whenever someone looks your way.

hanta is taller than you and always uses this to his advantage. squeezing your face when you look up at him. leaning down to give you kisses. holding your side to guide you through crowds.

occasionally, you’ll let him pick you up from your armpits like a cat and dangling you. you don’t know why he likes this; he just does.

words of affirmation

now one of hanta's best qualities is definitely his confidence and the way he talks to you confirms that.

he reassures you without even meaning to. hanta can tell when your down and easily finds the perfect comment that makes your cheeks flush pink and your dopamine levels boost. “look at that,” he practically purrs when you finish an assignment “done already cariño? making me look bad.” he laughs, not caring who hears him.

(quick mention that he also loves to make you laugh; he prides himself in it actually)

showing you off, showing you off, showing you off. everyone knows who the pro-hero cellphane is dating, it's hard not to.

“yeah, that’s my girl.” he says it stern, with a smirk on his face. it drives you INSANE.

⋆˚࿔ shinsou - shows his love by keeping you around

quailty time

it took a while for hitoshi to open up but when he did it was overwhelming for him. he thought wouldn’t be able to express his love for you. he soon realized just being in your presence was enough.

you love spending quality time with hitoshi. it doesn’t matter what you're doing, he wants to be there. doing chores together, planning your monthly schedules together, talking walks together.

hitoshi loves to hear you talk and learn more about you but he just loves to hear you laugh.

he likes teasing you like there’s no tomorrow with stupid jokes and stupider insults just to see you laugh over and over again.

physical touch

but once hitoshi gets comfortable, once he gets confident: he also gets cocky and handsy.

comes up to you and whispers in your ear, “come on, can you do it for me, baby?”

favorite cuddle positions is spooning and honestly doesn’t mind whose big or little spoon.

he holds you by the waist as he looks up with you with those eyes.

hitoshi is a jealous guy. he knows you’re fun to be around, he knows you have friends, and he knows it’s wrong to think this, but he hates not being with you.

but he also knows that when you get home, you’ll lay in his arms agains and it’ll be alright so he’s patient until he can hold you again.

holding you from behind when you’re leaving to go out with coworkers. he’s kissing your cheek, “‘m gonna miss you. be safe,” gripping onto you like there’s no tomorrow.

once hitoshi learns to love you he never lets you go.

+ plus

he found that he likes to share his clothes with you and finds it funny that you practically drown in his hoodies.

when you give his hoodie back, he puts it on and smiles as the smell of your perfume fills merges into his skin.

[jinxlovebot]

Girlfriend! Jinx x Kiramman! Fem! Reader.

Jinx and the reader have a forbidden and secret relationship.An unlikely relationship that for some reason happened and worked out.Jinx knocks on the reader's window in the middle of the night just to see her, because she misses her. The reader reluctantly lets Jinx in, even though she's afraid Caitlyn will hear and find Jinx there. (Jinx didn't kill Cassandra here; Caitlyn's hatred for Jinx is fueled by something else and occurs during the events of the second season, when Caitlyn is obsessed with finding Jinx with all that dark style, haha). They talk, maybe a little angst in the conversation, they kiss, make out, etc. The ending could be Caitlyn going to her sister's room after having heard something, but when she gets there the reader is "asleep" or something else you prefer. You can change it however you want. I really liked this idea, but I feel like I couldn't give enough details. I hope you liked it, have a good day!

I LOVE THIS!! i hope i wrote it up to your standards!! thank you for the ask mwah <3

“we’re meant to be” - jinx x kiramman! fem! reader fluff with a little smut

its late at night, everyone in your house is asleep and you can’t even close your eyes. your so frustrated from the lack of sleep and you dont even know how late it is. you reach for your phone to call your girlfriend but it went straight to voicemail. “fuck. she’s probably asleep.” you groan in annoyance and push the covers off you and walk to your bathroom, you splash warm water on your face sighing in relief when you hear a low tapping noise in your room. you freeze, is someone awake? you turn of your tap and dry your face when you hear the tapping again. “what the hell..” it was coming from your window, you crawl over to your window on your cold wooden floor and peak through the curtains. you jump when you see jinx waving at you pointing to the lock of your window.

you slide your window up and pull jinx in, jinx went to greet you with a loud exclamation but you covered her mouth with your hands, “jinx! shush! do you know what time it is?” you whisper, scrunching your eyebrows taking your hands down. “yes, sorry i forgot!” she giggles and walks over to your bed, “ soo, why are you here anyway?” “sheesh! i cant visit my girlfriend?” you smile and lightly smack her shoulder, “i missed you toots, i had to come see you.” your face flushed, “im glad you did, i couldnt even sleep.” “me neither!” jinx laughs and crawls up to your bed and slips herself in the covers, she sighs and pats beside her. you crawl up to her and cuddle up to her side. “jinx, i couldnt sleep again.” you mumble into her shoulder, you always struggle with sleeping when jinx isnt near and she knows that. she knows how frustrating it is with not being able to sleep, “i know baby, im sorry for leaving you alone at night its just..”, you already know what she’ll say shes from the underground and your from piltover, and caitlyn your sister hates jinx’ guts. you look at jinx and whisper “no body is ever changing how i feel for you, no one.”

she looks your way and traces your face from your ears to your lips, she grazes your bottom lips locking eyes with you the whole time. you grab the back of her head and kiss her lips, jinx slips her tounge in and you both fight for dominance. jinx obviously winning, she smiles into your mouth and grabs your waist to pull you on her lap. straddling her you tangle your hands in her hair when you heard a sound from the main bathroom. you pull away and jinx raises her eyebrow and tilts her head in confusion, you put a finger up to her lips and point to your door. you hear footsteps in the hallway, getting nearer. “jinx! under my bed now!” jinx hurriedly crawls off the bed and hides under your bed, you pull the covers over you and breathe slow and deep to seem like your asleep. someone opens your door, you squint your eye to see and it was caitlyn. “y/n… you awake?” she whispers, your heart beating so fast you swore you could hear it. you make a sound and rub your eyes sitting up, “oh sorry! i didnt mean to wake you, i thought i heard something… sorry! goodnight” caitlyn says closing your door, you wait until you hear her bedroom door shut when you flop your head over your bed to look under it.

you see jinx absolutely pissing herself laughing covering her mouth, her face almost turning pink. you smile, and she creeps from underneath your bed to back onto it. “your so bad at faking it!!” jinx says softly, “yeah yeah, whatever. come here” you pull her in for a kiss, kiramman or not your meant to be with jinx and no one can separate you two, not even family.

[bluestrawberry7]

definitive height ranking of the main ten bg3 characters

im right they told me themselves

10. last place is minthara lmao she's 5'3" (161cm) max. I love her being tiny and feral. still absolutely ripped, don't get me wrong, just... on a smaller scale. also drow are canonically the shortest elves (drizzt is 5'4"/162cm), and I know women are taller than men, so she'd still be a little under average, but its more middling in menzoberranzen. and she's still above goblins and stuff. but then she joins the party and is just towered over by all these men and surface elves and she is compensating

9. shadowheart is 5'6". she is the physical embodiment of y/n. I guess this is a little short for elves, because of the gender thing, but I just cannot see her being defined as "tall" or "short". like she's short, in comparison to the other companions, but that only emphasizes their enormity because she is so perfectly average.

8. I like wyll being 5'8"/173cm or so bc he just so thoroughly embodies short king energy. think of that marcello hernandez bit where he's like short kings put in the work, not because we wanted to, but because we had to. I'm sorry but wyll is just way too kind and good at dancing to have lived his whole life over 5'9". bro is tom holland. (his dad is comfortably over six feet. this is definitely not a source of contention)

7. astarion, I think, is canonically 5'9"/175cm, which is tall for male elves, but not by a ridiculous margin. i think it fits into him being like, default-ly desirable, where he sort of fits into a lot of different relationship molds without it looking weird, because its a whole part of his character than he's conventionally attractive. like the vampire stuff is the interesting part, but without that he looks averagely, disposably pretty, which is why so many people see right through him.

6. gale is exactly one inch taller than astarion. I like him being a kind of remus-lupin tall, where he like slouches a lot and doesn't super recognize it, which is amplified by the fact that he spent the majority of his adult life exclusively around tara and a literal goddess. he doesn't really grasp the social implications.

5. lae'zel ends up around gale-height (5'10"/178cm). I know some people swear by shortzel, but I like the idea of githyanki being gangling and alien. her in-game model doesn't look like it should be that tall, but her limbs are just a bit too long. I like her walking around camp in an uncanny valley way, where she looks so clearly 5'6" until she's standing right next to you.

4. I picture jaheira in her prime as taylor swift with elf ears. she's just under six foot, or ~181cm. its that whole thing about presidents/authority figures tending to be taller, because people like to literally look up to their leaders for some reason. she just has that confidence. she's not like outrageously tall, and she's totally comfortable with minsc etc being taller than her, but she's just. six feet tall.

3. karlach!! is 6'2"/188cm!!! (not including horns). I've seen people say she's a little more than that, but I don't think most people are grasping how tall 6'2" is, especially if you're like fully built. like, rhea ripley is 5'7". karlach is a UNIT. anything above 6'2" is reaching freak-of-nature status, where height is like. the only thing you see when you look at them.

2. speaking of freaks of nature, minsc is 6'4"/193cm, and he has been since he was like 13. he has lived his whole life being taller than 97% of people he meets. he had to be pulled aside in gym class and warned that he couldn't wrestle the other kids anymore because he might crush them. and he was heartbroken!! because he's like!! a great dane!!!! and he just wants to play!!

1. halsin is comically large. ≥6'5"/196cm. he is a statistical anomaly. i think he canonically assumes he's part orc, but I think it's funnier if he's literally just an elf. his parents are 5'6". he's never even worked out. doctors hate him.

the only race-related halsin theory i'll accept is that he's a bear who turned into a human and not the other way around

[ode-to-fury]

I think I've boiled down all of my complaint about Veilguard to to things

1.) Lack of a companion dialogue wheel in the Lighthouse

I think whoever made this decision seriously misunderstood what the wheel is for. It's not for meaningless banter that you get out on missions anyway, or repetitive dialogue that doesn't add anything to the story, the dialogue wheel has been there since origins to tease out the companions' backstories and worldviews. How much Chantry lore would we have missed out on in Origins if not for Leliana? Or Crow lore if not for Zevran's talking about it? And also I wouldn't know the characters. And the companions are such important parts of the story in Dragon Age. I can't remember if da2 had dialogue wheels, but there were so many other oppertunities for Hawke to interact with the companions outside of that that I think they made up for it. It's also a way to centre Rook's bond with their companions, instead of the companions' bonds with each other. It irks me so much how they get to build such intense relationships with one another but I have to headcanon everything they feel about Rook. Let's face it, 90% of our Rooks' relationships with their companions is headcanon, and like... that's fine, I enjoy doing that and the game gives me enough that I can realistically do it without having to make up too much, but I've always thought like the companion relationships with each other I can headcanon off of banters from missions. Rook's relationship with them or whatever protagonist we're talking about has to be built and shown in game because me as the player should be the most important piece on the board. Sorry, that's just how videogame writing works. That's why Tav works in bg3 even though they're just as much of a 'nobody' as Rook is. I don't mind that Rook isn't all powerful or competent or whatever other critiques there are out there about Rook. I love Rook, they're probably my favourite da player character, but I want to feel that the companions love Rook too, or at least know them. I didn't feel like that with anyone other than Lucanis and Davrin.

Which brings me to

2.) The game isn't long enough.

I know people are going to argue with me on this one and that's perfectly fine, everyone has preferences about how long a game should be or not, but just bear with me for a second. The biggest part of this game is obviously 1.) the main questline, and 2.) the companoin quests. I actually like that there isn't too much other than that because I get completionist anxiety about sidequests but that's beside the point. My point is I don't really have an issue with the pacing of the main storyline, but if you are going to centre the companions in this game... finish their fucking storylines. I think Emmrich's quest is the most well-rounded out of all of them, and I still would have added at least two more quests to his. In fact, I would add at least two more quests to every single companion questline, and three more to Lucanis's. And do not get me started on the scenes with the companions. Though this could also be fine if they'd added the dialogue wheel. Because then we get bonding through that instead of having to put a whole cutscene in there. But anyway, yeah. Every single one of the questlines were rushed and it irks me SO MUCH because they could have been SO GOOD. Also the hardened character should have had alternate quests and cutscenes instead of just... not having any content. Neve got a few scenes, but Lucanis just... isn't a character if you harden him.

Tldr: the two main issues I have with Veilguard that could have basically fixed the game for me is 1.) a companion dialogue wheel at the lighthouse and 2.) a longer game.

[hearts4werka]

TW for this whole post, there’s mentions of a lot of stuff so like be aware of what you’re getting into guys

Okay so I didn’t expect to be making this post but this is just completely disgusting and I cannot leave this just without adding a say into this, the whole situation happening rn and going around with @sturniololuv08 is just genuinely making me sick to my stomach, I met Bri when I was in the group chat on discord with her but previously we were following each other on here, she hasn’t private messaging me like it was with Kay and gray (check out their posts) but a lot of the times I would be on voice chat with bri in them and some of the stuff I would hear in them, there were other people but they would leave quickly cuz they said it made them uncomfortable, I didn’t wanna be rude so I was the one that stayed the longest in them and I heard almost everything the others said she was saying. The one thing that freaked me out when she said was about the poll for her next fic, the axe option that was winning currently she said that sadistic!matt would take the axe and cut off the girls toe and make him suck the blood out of it, the cnc fic was just sickening, personally I haven’t read it cuz it feels triggering for me, I’m so sorry for anyone who has read it and was either triggered or traumatized from some of the asks my friends have sent to the group chat of anons in their inbox talking about it, and I also want to talk about the relationship between bri and grace who is freshly 18, all of us are concerned for the most part for grace cuz having such a big age gap and being freshly over the age of 18 is also kind of weird to engage in it, I don’t know grace’s side of the story so I’m not going to assume anything but this relationship doesn’t seem like a good relationship at all, especially with a person like bri. The stuff she was saying in the chat as well as the voice chat were just very uncomfortable to everyone involved, including myself, every time she would write something or send anything about her fics she would constantly ping either me or everyone and was you could say pressuring us into reading it even though if someone wasn’t exactly comfortable with reading it, she would as well not add much tw with snippets she would send to the chat, gabby who is the owner of the group pointed that out multiple times and told her to put it as a spoiler or put it in tw - main but her excuse was just that everyone should know that her stuff is triggering content. The whole situation is very uncomfortable and overwhelming but I’m making this cuz bri hasn’t taken full accountability for her actions as well as she keeps making excuses for them, if you’re reading this then I advice stop texting minors to say the least and don’t do shit like this anymore nor write ‘different’ type of fics cuz we are perfectly fine with the ‘basic repeative fics’ on here, for your age i thought you would take a more mature approach to this and actually take accountability and properly apologize for this cuz talking to people way younger than you in this way is not okay, I fear you need mental help and a therapist first and foremost, maybe I’ll make another post about this maybe not but for now this is my response to this. Peace out.

Please block/report her accounts

@/letstrip1975 & @/sturniololuv08

— @mattslilies @m4ggvt @y3sterdaysproblem —

[yoonginismobsessed]

Kaiser slandering post

I LIVE BY KAISER'S SLANDERS POST.

Tw: I use a translator so there may be some translation errors.

Kaiser would definitely not be a good boyfriend like some of you think. He wouldn't be an alpha male who is very possessive and jealous of you, he is one of the most mischaracterized characters in this fandom probably by his appearance.

You may forget the main thing about his personality, he is an extremely manipulative and narcissistic person, like, not even his greatest ex-ally (who was someone he always saw as a vulnerable dog who was fooled by his malice, someone who saw Kaiser as practically an emperor, someone who was above him and was totally willing to please him) was abandoned by him after two years, so imagine what he wouldn't do with someone that he's just meet. His superiority complex would be something terrible too, sorry guys, I can't see him in a relationship with someone who doesn't involve A LOT of manipulation on his side. It's very likely that if he does get involved in a relationship, it would only be to use his "partner".

Your man would definitely not be a good boyfriend, sorry not sorry. 💔💔

You guys look so much at his appearance, he's handsome, I won't deny it, but it seems like some of you forget the main thing, which is his TERRIBLE and unbearable personality. He's extremely glazed by this fandom, I understand, but he's so mischaracterized by the fandom too that it becomes interesting.

Anyway, that's my point of view about him, I like his character and history, I like to slander him, he's one of my favorite characters in the manga, I like to see how he's been deepened in the work since his first appearance, he's so well written that sometimes it hurts. Kaiser fangirls please don't put me on the fire for slandering your man. 🙏

This man is not fit for a romantic relationship with ANYONE.

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 11

Chapter 11: fevered Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, arthur’s mental health is kind of not so good…VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. Huge HUGe Voyeurism bit, arthur being a perv 🤨👀 huge weirdo energy LMAO small mention of wanting death, WC: 7780 Hello snow angels : ) here is chapter 11!!! this chapter will be from arthurs perspective so very exciting 😳 i had a ton of fun just getting nasty with him and writing his fucked up little thoughts 😈 arthur inner monologue was a bit weird at first but im sure ill get better at it by actually attempting to do it LMAO i hope you guys enjoy and pls let me know what you think!!! i wanna thank everyone who has left replies and asks about this series, all of you have been so supportive and amazing, couldnt do it without you guys 🥹🥹💖💖💖 also this ended up way too long so sorry Tags: lots of angst todayyy, no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace.Arthur being rude as always just… low honor arthur as a warning lol - What does it matter if the man who saved your life is a little strange?

It must be dusk falling too soon. Slow deprivation of heat and light; does things to his head, as if that wasn’t half screwed off already. Arthur’s fingers clutch the dusty curtain in front of one of two main windows at the front of his cabin; his eyes swear they can see…something out in the treeline. At first he thought of Pinkertons; to collect that bounty they were on about. Why they would follow him to the ends of the earth for that would be beyond him but Arthur had been known to do stupid things for a big payout. And of course, he hadn’t lived this long without a healthy amount of paranoia. Or what he called caution. Or perhaps Charles should have left his ass at the nearest asylum.

But he can sense that he’s wrong when nothing comes of it. No gunshots, no desperate shoot out for his life. Just the quiet again. In a minute, he’ll look out the window and watch the figure disappear. And he’ll shake his head, rub his calloused fingers over his tired eyes. He drops the curtain, pouring another cup of coffee at the silver percolator in the kitchen. He is not losing his grip; he isn’t. He’d leave that to Dutch. 

It’s gotten worse with the winter; those strange things he sees from time to time. They make him feel more out of place than he already does. As if there’s something wrong with him, wrong with this moment. The frost grows over the windows like mold.

The summer sun kept the darkness from slipping in and leaking into his vision. But that’s long gone, been gone for a month. Shit weather up here, long dragging winters. Summers that were too short for his liking and an autumn that was beautiful but also short lived. The winter is too heavy now to do much of anything but loop out to the stable and back. Not much sightseeing to do, the same shock white landscape to see everyday. 

In spite of how beautiful the mountain is; with its sprawling forest, creeks like liquid glass, the fresh winter air… Arthur finds it arduous to see it. Closing himself inside his cabin is easier. He could go and hunt something, draw the scenery. But was that any better than the fireplace? The comfort and simultaneous unease of staying inside the confines of his new home drag him in opposite directions. And even if his paranoid visions are just residue from another time in his life; he knows there are people who could be still searching, who might remember his face. Bad things had a way of following Arthur wherever he went. 

Even more loathsome is the lack of sunlight. The sun disappears around 4 or 5 and it feels like it was midnight by 6. The windows of his wooden cabin blacken like soot, leaving him tired and groggy. 

Arthur tries to keep himself going with bitterness like always. Coffee, cigarettes, and alcohol. He thinks the lack of light plays with his head. It’s easy to mistake shadows for ghosts, trusting himself was hard as it was. 

Damn snow, cuts to the bone.

The stunning silence surprises him still at these odd moments in the day. Arthur thought that maybe the peace would do him some good. But there was a need that scratched incessantly at the front of his skull. Over and over and over. 

He spent a long time being needed by other people. Dutch made him feel needed at the very least. Like he was part of something that symbolized how free a man could be. And he had devoted every shred of himself to the vision that Dutch had for the world. It was all that mattered to Arthur. His fealty was really all he had to give and so he gave it. 

God, had he felt the fool on the last day he saw him, when Dutch walked away, as if everything Arthur had ever done was nothing to him. Twenty goddamn years of his life. If he was being honest, he knew that his loyalty was wasted before that day but he had waited to see if the man he knew would emerge. If he could kill that gutless rat and show Dutch the truth but he refused, leaving Arthur with nothing to show for it. Helping John, Abigail and Jack to safety was barely a comfort when he thought of all that he wasted. All he did was hand another man a chance at the life that he wanted. 

But it was too late. As always with Arthur. (Everything was always too little; too late) Providing for others was embedded deeply in his being. It was something he had done for years, especially when he decided to get his shit together. He might have dallied, thoroughly enjoying his youth. But he learned (through several extremely painful lessons) why it was important that he pick up the slack. Loyalty isn’t represented by inaction. He hadn’t been all too kind to people but he had kept his comfort that in some part, his work was what kept that camp running. And when that fell apart; he really did try to help the less fortunate.

Really, he was making up for his failures to the people he cared about most. Arthur questioned if he had cared enough. If he did, maybe things would have ended differently between him and the people he harmed by being selfish.

Maybe Dutch put some modicum of power in his hands and Arthur had wielded it badly, went around acting like the cesspool he felt like most of the time. But at the end of the day, the camp ate because of him, they had medicine because of him, hell, they even drank because it was him that brought back more money than anyone else. 

There is no one who needs him now. Arthur scrubs his hand over his face then down to rub over his shoulders. Leans his head back. At first it was nice. The independence. No more debt collecting for Strauss, no more worrying if there’s enough food for Pearson, no more looking out for O’Driscolls. He thought he would like only having one person to worry about; he had been lying to himself. Although he still had other things missing from him. They’re like phantom limbs. He can feel where they were supposed to be but when he looks down they’re gone. Hosea’s guidance was missing from him. Even if he was terrible at following it. The sound of the girl’s giggling and gossiping. Even Uncle and Swanson ambling around, drunker than he thought was possible. Dutch looming, watching through his haze of maduro sweetened smoke. He keeps looking down but they’re gone.  

The fire crackles and the wind howls; picks up the silence. Sometimes the wind from the flue sounds like the breeze over Flat Iron Lake. The fire doesn’t sound any different than it did when it crackled warmly around a circle of a mismatched band of criminals singing songs together, alongside the chatter and the drunken crooning. When it was the background noise to thick Irish blabbering. The poor kid. He was going places, as most of the younger ones were, he and Lenny would have run that gang when they got past their growing pains. He could have told them that when they were living, that sentiment would have meant something then. 

It’s been a year or two, the days sort of connect like train cars and chug along, not because he wants them to but because that’s how life goes. It’s an endless drag, an endless struggle. He can’t see how this is much better than being dead. Arthur Morgan is one of the few people who knows how precious life can be, he spent a lifetime taking it away from people as he pleased. 

He tries to savor this peace (as if he knows how to). Tries to remember what it was like, not having any time to himself, always at Dutch’s beck and call. Barely any time to take a piss, let alone really rest, really give himself room to be anything but what others wanted. How he loathes those memories. The years he spent dedicating himself to another man's dreams. Watched all those years slip away, ashes in a smoke stack, rising forever upwards until they’re forgotten. 

Arthur refuses to recall how many things he gave up for that life; down to the simple pleasures. Love, privacy, a family. He convinced himself that anything else wasn’t living, that he couldn’t ever be tied down. That old life was just… what he had. There was nowhere else to go and when he was old enough to go his own way, there were kids like him with nothing left; nothing to return to, no one to look after them. He might not have been anyone to look up to. Maybe he was a shining example of what not to be. It was Arthur who was there to keep people in line, to show them how to be killers for Dutch’s aspirations. He’s sure he ruined lives more than he taught them anything useful.

Nothing about that life was rooted in anything real, substantial to the world. Pipe dreams. Vague imaginings of living free in the west or some such tropical paradise. What a waste. Just the thought of a secluded island with palm trees on it summons a bitter laugh. 

He sits and watches the fire. Tries to ignore the shadow in the corner. It's thin and wavering. Today, it looks a bit too much like Hosea for his taste. Especially when the log on the hearth cracks, it sounds like that ominous cough that followed the graying conniver everywhere he went. 

Arthur lights another cigarette. He’s been making (quite frankly, just awful) attempts at rationing and this is his allotted second cigarette of the day. He’s two for five. He curses himself every time he forgets to take the drags and it crumbles to ash too quickly, landing on the rug beneath his boots. He hisses, a singe on his fingers snaps him back to the present moment. It burns his fingers when he forgets that he’s holding one entirely, too busy drilling holes in the walls with his eyes. He can’t stand it but he doesn’t have another choice. The silence has the mysterious property of making Arthur lose track of himself. He should have listened but he never learns. 

This deep into winter, not too far from the base of Mt. Pàtu, he can’t just head out on the road and get more cigarettes. The nearest town is a six or seven hour ride and that isn’t happening, not in this weather. He might take Currant out for a light trot so he can get some exercise but he can tell something big is coming soon. The bellows of air from the west have him readying for storm weather. Best to get a move on now if he were to be going out. 

It’s dinner now. He’s not sure where the time went but he doesn’t mind too much. He’s got coffee and he’s got hot food. Salt pork with potatoes, boiled in the salt water from soaking the corns of salt off the meat. He’s gotten better at cooking at least. Arthur scoffs at the thought of the slop he used to be eating. He takes a glass out and sets it on the counter, along with his fifth bottle of Kentucky bourbon. He’s allowed 6 bottles a month. By anyone else’s standards it might be a lot but where he spent most of his time; around other drunkards and degenerates, it’s not enough. 

The storm hits full force now, there’s gonna be snow all the way up to the porch by tomorrow morning. But the air inside of his cabin is still and smoky. From the window, he checks the stable to see if the doors stay closed. It’s well insulated so Currant should be fine. The storm will have scared most of the game into hiding away, he contemplates when he’ll head back out for hunting. He takes a seat at his plain dining table, spends a while on the same glass of bourbon. The smell of cedar and salt is nice.  So is the warmth of his cabin but it’s all lost to him. His sense for how fortunate he is to be here and not dead in a ditch is dull. Only he could be the man to crave chaos and blood and the sound of gunshots while sitting on his ass all day, sipping bourbon. 

He thinks he’ll read a boring book or pretend to keep busy by stoking the fire. Arthur listens to the silence, waiting to hear something but the crackling and the draft from a small crack in the wall. But there’s nothing. He should have listened to Charles. But he insisted that he would be fine. He can’t go back on that now, he’s always been fine by himself. He’ll just wear the groove into his leather chair even further like the sorry bastard he is, trying to ignore how small and stiflingly warm the room feels.  

The blizzard gets louder and louder. Dozing off on the sofa or in his chair sounds like as good a time as any. But he isn’t exhausted, just annoyingly groggy. Bouncing his knee does not count as activity. Neither does all the fidgeting he does, twitching his fingers, putting his legs up and bringing them back down. He tries to pace a little but wearing treads on the floorboards isn’t doing any good either. He puts his hands on his hips. 

 He grabs his journal but he doesn’t have much to write. What would he write about? Surely, the exciting things he experiences everyday. Waking up feeling like hot shit on a platter after having too much whiskey was not the kind of thing worth memorializing in his journal anymore. He’s a little past the shame now too, the embarrassment. He lets his fingers feel the blank page, the tooth of the paper. 

He lets his hand form images of spring, the point of his pencil worn into a dull tip, recollected as best as possible. It’s nothing but a pale comparison. 

There’s a pat on the door. It’s soft and weak. And just as softly, there’s a voice pleading for help, asking if anyone is inside. A light shining in through the cracks of his world. 

He pushes himself up. He knows he hasn’t had that much to drink tonight. The worst possible outcomes play in his head. A ruse from bounty hunters, a local gang taking advantage (not a whole lot better than he would have done only 3 years ago), or another ghost from his past (the ones that play at the corner of his eye). His chest gets a little tight but he’s been good at keeping unease from holding him back. Arthur shakes his hand out, placing the book on the mantle of the fireplace.

“Who’s out there?” It’s an oddity. To hear another voice. One that isn’t his own. It’s a beautiful noise, a pleasing beckon. But he’s no fool. He doesn’t even particularly want to be here, why would anyone be here if they didn’t have to be? He grabs his revolver from the small table next to the entrance, one of the only loaded guns in the house. “Please, sir, I promise it’s just me,” and the earnestness in that voice, he has to believe that promise is true. He has to open the door. With a deep sigh, he stuffs the gun away after a second thought. 

The figure is much too bundled up to gather any immediate details. She’s not very much, standing there out in the cold icy fluff. It isn’t until he nods his head to direct her does she realize she should probably come in. He peeks out at the tracks, just one long line of horse tracks in the process of getting blown over by the harsh wind and the lashing ice. Her struggle up to the porch marked in snow. Arthur scans the tree line for any of those dark silhouettes but they’ve blown away in the wind, they’re pushed from his mind when he turns back and closes the door shut behind the both of them. 

He turns to her, he doesn’t mind the way she shrinks away from his body, skittish and slight. Such a small girl, alone in a snowstorm. He can’t think of a single good reason why she would be going it alone and what she could possibly need more than a night in. She should be warming her hands next to a fire. He could do it for her, could gather them and breathe on them. He tosses that behind him like an empty tin can. He has other things to focus on, mostly trying to get a better look at her and prying an answer out of her as to why she’s out here like this. 

He’s more rude than he intended to be but a little rudeness is nothing new to him. “What the hell were you doin’ out there?” He has been described as coarse. Intentionally and unintentionally. He’s a little bit like a puffed up rooster when he catches her looking him over, marveling at the size of him. But he lets that fall away, surely she needed no old man assuming things on her part. He knows he ain’t much to look at. At his gruff tone, she has no response. The poor thing is so cold, her teeth chatter, whatever she mustered up to yell at him over the storm has run out. Arthur feels a little of his hard veneer chip away. 

He thinks to take her coat, covered in frost and not nearly as insulated as he had hoped, it’s damp with melting ice now that she’s inside. But he feels like he’s dreaming again, peeling her coat off and hanging it on the rack, a faux gentleman. He doesn't know why he’s trying to impress but there’s a chance that she’d like a man like that. So he plays, pretends. He’s surely done that before.

When her coat is shed, all of those visions he’s been having must have caught up to him. 

Jesus, Morgan. You’ve really lost it now. 

This disease of loneliness he’s been given has surely destroyed the vestiges of his sanity. He must be imagining some young soft handed girl with warm bright eyes and vibrant, shiny hair. Face of an angel, looking hopeful; grateful. Her eyes on him burn like hellfire. He feels strange, watching much too close at how her tongue wets her lips; chapped from the cold. Beautiful; she must be someone’s girl, he hopes for a widow who had lost her husband to the winter frost. He’d gladly pick up where the fucker left off. Pry her from his cold hands. Could just be the loneliness talking. He can’t bring himself to care all that much about it. 

Arthur can feel shame eating away at him, like ants at the corners of a scrap fallen off the table. He could have found himself sick to his stomach not too short a time ago. A girl as young as her and he, an old dog with even older tricks have no business together. He knows it too. But he was done with that crushing feeling of dread that ate away at his very soul some days. He had enough of his life to feel awful about. Blood on the floorboards, forgotten promises, disregarded words of affection. Just these moments, where he can hoard the vision that is this girl to himself after so long of giving pieces of himself away. 

What has that shame ever done but made you worse? 

If there isn’t the will to keep his eyes off the girl then there’s the give in him. Like a levy, it cracks a little, breaks into a million pieces of splintered wood for her. It’s been too long since he’s seen something so pretty. All flesh and blood. No graphite on paper; recollections of the women from his past, no Gem of Beauty cigarette card. She carries the smell of soap and perfumed cotton. He thinks it's geranium scented or another delicate flower crushed to pieces to make her smell like she came from heaven too. It’s a weakness he hadn’t culled. 

This girl of his; she must be something quite real. His wishful daydream would have diverted to more intimate topics by now, and he’d probably imagine a woman he’s at least met before. Deciding if he’d prefer her to be real or a misty figment of his imagination; he can’t make heads nor tails of it. Arthur knows he’d probably end up disappointing a real person more than he could offend a figure cooked up in his mind. He sighs. He turns to the iron stove beside the dining table. There’s still coffee and he can distract himself from his ridiculous train of thought by clumsily pouring it out for her. 

Hopeful bastard.

“You mute, girl? Asked you a question.” He knows she isn't but he wants to hear her talk some more. And maybe if she hears what a brute he makes himself out to be most of the time, she’ll turn her nose up at him the way she’s supposed to. Lots of women have, she wouldn’t be the first warned away by his attitude like a bad smell. He could almost let that temptation win. To change who he is at this moment. If only for the selfish purpose of luring her further into his home. However, he’s too impulsive and his tongue is too practiced at offending. He has words that are about as gentle as a fist to the nose. 

He sets her cup down on the table. Arthur doesn’t wait for her to figure herself out, grabbing another cigarette, swiping them off of the coffee table in front of the fireplace. To hell with the rations. It was a special day after all, a goddamned holiday. He strikes the match on the table, lighting it as she tentatively steps forward. Nearly singes his finger on the match he forgot to put out, wincing and waving it out to put out the flame. 

She’s a pearl, surrounded by the ugly oyster that is the less than stellar home he keeps. Carefully, she steps into his space. Suddenly, he’s hyper aware of every thing she could find awful or garish; his hunting trophies or the weapons or the wall. Or the mess of papers on the desk in the corner. It has him gripping his cigarette a bit too tight. Her face hardly moves in any particular reaction, as if used to him already. A simple neutrality is what takes her as she looks at some of the things over the mantle, then her eyes track over the small hallway, leading to the bedroom and some storage. She’s quick to bring her attention back to him, a soft smile that stuns him graces her face, kicking up some long buried hope of his.

 If there was a woman who should be a lady, it’s her. She sets herself down on the sofa, neatly keeping her hands to herself, reaching for the cup he set out for her. But first checking to see if it wasn’t for him with a nervous flick of her eyes up to his own. He can hardly ignore how it pulls at him. She holds the blue speckled cup on her thigh. 

“No, I…was getting something for my granny…” She explains she couldn’t make it to the doctor in the almost fatal weather outside. He has a humorless laugh. How could anyone send her out for the sake of some old hag; already knocking on death's door? Selfless girl but stupid. Defenseless. Her own mother, too. He supposes he can relate. The man he regarded as his father had been the one to let him down the most.

 It’s always the ones you trust. 

He makes his opinion known to her, maybe he can talk some sense into her. 

“I can imagine. What kinda mother sends a pretty thing like you on a fool's errand? You really thought you was gonna bring your ol’ granny a doctor in this?” He reprimands her, she might need it. 

Little girl gone out by herself. Needs you, don’t she?

What she probably needs is someone to keep her from doing things that risk her life for nothing at all. Doesn’t have to be him but he won’t turn the thought away. Breaking her open on her marriage bed. Such a pretty thing, a distracted smile into her cup of coffee. Lost in a snow drift because no one cared enough to keep her inside. 

And she does nip back. Trying to give a rebuttal but he won’t have it. He knows he’s right, giving his idea of a light hearted joke, his particular brand of poking humor. Heavy handed as always. 

“Your granny probably already kicked the bucket while you were out here, damn near gettin’ yourself killed.” 

 Perhaps insinuating her grandmother was already dead wasn’t the best attempt at familiarizing her with himself, her face tinges with an expression he’s used to seeing. Dutch said he had a sharper tongue than people thought. Hosea said it was too blunt. 

“And if it weren’t for me, well…” she’d be dead. Forgotten somewhere in the snow with a dead horse for company. Such an image should hopefully be sobering for her. It’s a harsh reality but one he would prevent from happening.  His hand comes up to scratch at his brambly jaw. She probably thought his slightly overgrown beard was ugly and unkempt. His fingers raise the delicate rolled cigarette to his lips. A nice calming drag helps his nerves calm down, they quit jumping under his skin every time her eyes pull over him, over his scarred face and his crooked nose and his gnarled hands. She looks like she holds something back. Her tongue, he thinks. He wished she would have just come out and said it. 

But she’s a polite little thing, stifling herself with another drink of the coffee. The satisfaction on her face and the small droop in her shoulders now that she’s warm makes him smile. 

She speaks up with a tremor stuck to her words. “I’m sorry mister,” her nose scrunches a little, doesn’t even know how darling he finds it. “but I don’t think you gave me your name…” 

In a well practiced motion, he leans and ashes his cigarette. It took him a while to remember that he can’t just ash them on the ground anymore. He had floors and a permanent roof now. He tends to get the hang of things at some point. He kicks his legs up on the table, gently so as to not frighten the girl on his sofa, warming herself by his fire, and drinking his coffee. The thoughts tickle that provider’s instinct so deeply embedded in his being. His name, he almost forgets all about that, looking into her pretty eyes, blinking curiously. Right. 

“Arthur. You married?” He never liked small talk too much. Never one for the surface level bullshit people put on. He watches each of her features form into something like a smile but not. Too nerve-y, falls into something else when she presses her lips together, her brows twitch as they pull together and her fingers scrunch in her gloves. 

As if she’d marry you, ain’t exactly the pick of the litter, are ya?

His fingers twitch, squeeze his short nails into the give of his palm. Then why does she call him? So enticing, then, looking at him with soft eyes, her legs pressed together and slanted. A real proper girl. Cute thing. Naive enough not to recognize someone like him at first glance. He’s something to be avoided. He wishes he could see a ring glittering on her finger, to ward away the seething heat in his head and his gut. Like a prayer muttered in the presence of evil but he doubted it’d be strong enough. 

“No, I’m afraid not,” her voice is like velvet, the rub of a rose petal between his fingers. Her eyes flick away and her teeth press gently into her bottom lip, sweet looking. No man to look after her besides her worthless father, left her out here to freeze. Alone, really. Or she might as well be. The world has been known to be cruel to women. To his mother, to a woman whose life he had ruined, to Mary even, to Susan and Molly. Well, most every woman he knew. It wasn’t fair but many things in their lives were disparagingly slanted away from them, scales always uneven. 

“Young lady like you, unwed and caring for your Ma, Pa, all by yourself?” Arthur scoffs, even as he points out her tragedy. “Now that’s just sad, is what it is,” His fingers push his cigarette into the ash tray a bit too hard, twisting it. And he looks at her blouse, drawing the outline of her with his eyes. He’d put it to paper later. She has a small nod for him. A shining opportunity. But he has to introduce his own dingy reality. The one where he was probably old enough to have been able to hold her when she had just been born. 

“You are… a sight, for an old ugly bastard like me is all,” Honest words slip from him, too loose for him to keep them behind his teeth. The bashful look crosses over her face makes his lip curl up just a little. She deserved to have someone tell her how pretty she is, who wouldn’t ever let her forget for a second how lovely she looked. Where all of these sappy things come from is beyond him. They ooze into his mind anyway.

Delicately, she sets the cup down on the table littered with other cups he had forgotten to put away and empty packages of cigarettes. He rolls his eyes at himself, of course he doesn’t clean up the day he has company.

“I left my horse in the stable out front, I hope you don’t mind,” her hands pet at her thighs, he can see where the fabric is damp. Immediately, his mind clicks into place, thinking on how he can fix it. That’s what the fairer sex truly craved, wasn’t it? Not some puffed up egomaniac. A fixer. A solution. His hands itch to move. To pick up the pieces of her problems and push them back into the shape of something whole. “Ain’t no trouble,” the relieved sag in her shoulders tells him that she actually worried about it. 

So Arthur does, he’s nothing if not a man of action. “Why don’t I get you somethin’ dry to wear? Should be turnin’ in soon. Gettin’ late.” He’s up before he can hear a protest. But she doesn’t give much of one. In his bedroom, his hands swipe his hair backwards. The small mirror he usually keeps around strictly for shaving catches the light of the small oil lamp. 

God, his best years are way behind him. So say the lines at the corners of his eyes, the gouges of his age on his forehead and the delicate webbing of wrinkles under his eyes. All of the evidence of his lifestyle glares back at him. There’s a ruddiness over the higher planes of his cheekbones from burning them under the sun. Some of the fist and knife fights from his youth have left permanent evidence of his misgivings on his face. Mostly in the form of scars and his odd nose. 

You disgust her, don’t go kidding yourself. 

If he ever told her the truth of himself, he’s sure a girl like her would go running, suddenly not minding the cold. He never was good at keeping beautiful things by his side. They rotted or wilted, or blew away with the wind. His rough fingers rub at the back of his neck. He stares deep into his own eyes. Trying to force some normalcy, some sense into himself but it’s all in vain. He grunts, paying mind to other things. 

He opens his cabinet, all of the simple clothes he keeps. Something new and not so weathered, or dirty, something clean. Like her. Some nice cotton knit union suit, something he bought when he was preparing for winter. He grips them tight and hesitates at the door. 

Just go n’ give it to her, and try not to be an idiot; for god’s sake. 

And the sweet smile he sees knocks whatever sense he had gathered out of him, he can hardly form a word. He just holds the fabric out to her like an oaf. And she rises, as to keep things comfortable, good at reading his brutish signaling, taking them gently and skirting around him. And then she’s in his bedroom. With a mental cuss, he realizes that he forgot to clean the room before he left. 

Ah, she’ll find out how pathetic you are at some point. Just a matter a’ when… 

All those empty bottles and habits he’s formed from living alone. Dirty clothes piled somewhere and sheets that probably smelled a bit too much like sweat. Christ. He sighs, pinching his nose. He’s not sure why he’s putting so much thought into this. He doesn’t care. Not a care at all. Right…sure.

At first, he distracts himself with preparing food, his leftovers, hopefully enough for her. Doing this is an action which is perhaps a bit selfish. He wants to make it clear that he can give her things she needs. He could figure out wants later.. Typically, he hadn’t thought too much of what women wanted but with her he makes lists, takes out the fine brandy. Sometimes he took after Dutch more than he would like to admit, the man was all too good at forgetting about a woman’s wants and needs.

The food hasn’t gone too cold. His hands look for things to do, stirring unnecessarily. Fumbling the dish he places it on. However, the little comfort he gains from activity fades. He can only grip the counter like a vice while staring out the window above his sink for so long. The shades of brown and orange that make up his cabin blur into nothing, the wood grain isn’t as grounding as he wants it to be. 

But then his legs drift in the opposite direction, He can hear a soft sigh and the rustle of clothing behind the door. He wets his dry throat. Arthur shouldn’t salivate. He does anyway.

You’re a creep. Something in his head laughs at him. 

Been too long since you had a woman this close to your bed and she ain’t even in it with ya…c’mon. C’mon, just open the damn door. 

His heart is about to pound his ribs into dust. He’s among the worst of the worst but this… pushes boundaries. Lines drawn in the sand. Peeping on women wasn’t something he was raised to do. And if he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, it was an accident. 

You ain’t that bad.

He’s used to letting the tide wash those out so he can draw new ones. And here is a new one. When his fingers push at the door and he can see the sliver where she bares her own flesh. Rubs her hands up her thighs, stepping out of her clothes. His throat goes dry, his teeth bite bluntly at the tip of his tongue as his jaw gets tense. 

His eyes follow the natural plush curve of her body, pale yellow lamp light glancing off of her. He’d kill a man to touch her and he’d kill a man for touching her. Devouring every inch, his eyes soak it all up, dedicating her to memory. 

 And then she’s stepping into the creamy cotton of his clothes. Doing up the buttons at her front. Unbidden by him, his cock fills out, half hard, pressing uncomfortably at just the sight of her. The perfection of her hips, her hair brushing over her back. 

The guilt is chewing a hole in his conscience. It’s like there are termites gnawing away at the foundation of whatever restraint he had. He’s felt less disgusting after killing a man, making him choke on his own blood as it fills his lungs. But the reward had never been so delightful. A sweet girl, so trusting, putting her hand to her chest and smiling as she realizes he’s there. It doesn’t feel good at all, the realization that he’s drooling over her like a mutt. All she has given him is reluctance, nervous glances. She doesn’t touch him or leave her hand to linger. A sweet-as-cream smile is all he has, enough to tide him over. He wants her anyway, needs her to stay. Letting her walk out after this will be next to impossible. 

“You scared me, Mister…” Mister. So polite, an angel delivered unto him. He can feel how his body is tense, tight like a spring. How she doesn’t notice the evidence of his wrongdoing, pressing at the front of his pants is luck or her naivety. His expression must be dazed, a foolish look because all he can do is stare, unable to stop himself. Observing the way his clothes drape over her, exaggerating how much smaller she is in comparison. How stunning she’d look, sprawled over his bed sheets. Precious girl; struggling not to cry when she gets all stretched out on something wholly too big for her. In his mind's eye, she mouths his name, looks at him like all she wants is him inside of her. Right. His name again. 

He dips back into his own ease in which he controls all of himself with. He is self assured and well handled. And he certainly doesn’t curl in on himself. Lets her see how big he is, slips back into old habits with the ease that comes with capability. “Morgan, Arthur Morgan,” his real name, no Kilgore’s or Calahan’s. She should know it anyhow, if he has any real intention in giving it to her.

It’s dangerous and it’s like she can feel it, somewhere in her body is that base instinct. One she was born with to protect herself from people with bad intentions. But she has another instinct, bares her neck to him. Arthur has always been good at suppressing his hunger, desire for soft pretty things. Settling like sediment on them was the control he had, buried them and buried them and buried them. She's a rainstorm, flooding his mind, washing out his carefully maintained resistance. Leaves his want raw and exposed and actionable. He wants her too much, wants her more than he has any right to. 

He feels what little control he has over his urges begin to slip with that thought.  Usually, he let them take over. Let whatever pain and anguish in him manifest into pure rage, cold and unadulterated. At first, it revolted him, his actions. And the reputation he built to go along with them. But they began to grow over him like a second skin until they encased whatever hope he had for a better life completely. His self induced hatred hid whatever pieces of him weren't supposed to be his to have and to share. The things he had to hide from himself even to feel like a whole person at any given moment. And he let himself be that awful thing people thought he was. Arthur Morgan. A force of nature. 

But he deserved it, didn't he? Everyone should keep their distance anyway. He has a habit of making things worse than when he found them. But all he wanted was for her to be close. Sure, he could play the vulnerable man who could pine after his sweetheart, go out riding after her, guide her home where she would forget all about him. Just a kind man out to help the world.

That's not what he wanted. He wanted her to stay here. Can’t bear the thought of being a good man, sending her away when the storm blows over. In sickness and in health, til’ death do us part. That’s what he sees when he closes his eyes. She’s standing in the kitchen, turning the spoils of his hunts into dinner. With that easy smile. His too empty house just wouldn’t feel like a home without her in it. He’s sick, he knows; but he’s sure she can cure him. 

Arthur Morgan has always wanted more than he could have. He chews on the thought like tobacco. Bitter but eventually he begins to need the taste, to crave it. 

“Put somethin’ on the stove for ya, man can’t leave no woman hungry…” God, his tongue feels too thick in his mouth and his jaw aches from gritting his teeth too hard. And of course, he lays all his cards on the table. Man can’t leave his woman hungry.

Every little gesture she makes, wrapping her arms shyly around herself, the gentle tilt of her head and the small affirmative gesture she makes is in no way unordinary. But they’re all dripping with her appeal. How can she smile at him like he doesn't look the way he does? Like he hasn't made the world worse just by existing in it?

 He soils her just by laying greedy eyes on her neck, on her nipples which he can make out through the fabric of his union suit. And when she opens her mouth, he knows he’ll end up calling her what she is. Sweet and syrupy, soothing on his throat. 

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate your kindness,” Arthur is convinced he heard her wrong. But her honesty is in those radiant eyes, in her easy posture. It must be meant to be, it’s not every day a woman talked to him like that. Or talked to him at all. He was perhaps too busy making sure they knew what they would be getting into; dealing with him. 

It may just be the respectful manners instilled in her. He supposed her parents had given her that; mannerisms that made her quite the catch. Utter perfection. But really, even that was a disservice. They damned her to him. Makes him see glimpses of a life he could have. Hundreds of conversations, every iteration of the precious babe they'd have together with his hair and her eyes, a son or a daughter. Two of each perhaps. Hours and hours of her gentle, refined voice taking up the empty room. He bows his head as if he can keep his disbelief and joy under the brim of his hat, currently hanging by his front door. 

She comes nearer. He can smell her cotton scent, can see the way the light casts around her hair, feathering over her, turning it into gold. His body moves to make the smallest space for her. Hoping she’ll nudge against him. He doesn’t even realize the way he’s formed himself to keep her here for just a moment. So close, Arthur nearly loses track of what he was supposed to be doing.  

“Been a long time since somebody called me a kind man, usually it was the opposite,” apprehension floods her body, her features. Her eyes focus on him, waiting for something terrible to happen. Arthur sees how she bristles. He only meant to be honest but she’s already read between his lines. Smart girl. 

He shows her just what he means. Even when he knows better, even if he’s never been this far. It’s like he has to touch though. No where uncomfortable, just to be sure she isn’t a sign that he’s truly gone from this world. 

“Please, I-” 

Her plea goes down his spine. It rakes its teeth over the parts of him that are wrong. That weren’t formed with gentleness, aren’t intricate. Just instinct that he’s indulged. 

He may not be a good man. But he can behave well enough to keep her. Now that he has the room for her. He doesn’t live in a drafty tent. He’s not a dog chained to the hand that fed him too many years ago. He would never treat her like an object to display or a mistake made in a drunken night of pleasure. He wouldn’t throw this away, this one chance at having something real. Wouldn’t lay waste to this opportunity to fill a hole in him that yawned empty for what felt like eternity. She’d be his wife and he; her man. A husband. Mister and Missus Arthur Morgan. A crock of shit, he would have said a month ago.

That ain’t the hand you been dealt and you know it. You’ve made a mess of things enough.

 But now… it's a dreamy reality. It hasn’t quite taken shape but he can get it there. Determination starts to crystallize over the idea. She’s something good; doesn’t need him. He could try to make something better too, could make the best of a situation, try to show her the best in him. But he knows it’d never be enough for her. He always throws these good things away, always ruins it somehow. But he grips and shakes like a mutt at this idea, gnaws it until it's raw. He can just take what he wants. Done that before, hasn’t he?

Just leave’er alone. God, you never learn, goddamned fool…

His fingers graze over the skin on her neck, uncovered by the collar of the union suit he lent her. Here in the dark of the small hallway, he can swear there’s something in the way she breathes, shudders. “I think you need a man to take care of you, honey, need a man to keep you inside- wouldn’t let you go out alone like this if you was my woman… Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He’s aware that he sounds like a right bastard but he’s only telling the truth. His hand settles at her back, like it’s supposed to be there. They’re meant to be, all he has to do is show her. 

ok yall how we feeling LMAO i think his perspective was interesting and fun for me to write but idk if its any good, but i hope with practice ill get more confident 🥹🥹 bro is a freak sooo yeah it was fun to write him as a freak he is very conflicted about everything and he is super weird but also sexy sooo😳 i hope you guys enjoyed this lil backstory on why arthur is a weirdo 😊😊😭😭 lmk what you guys think !!

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

hey! do you have any tips for running more? i have a love-hate relationship with it

YES!

I used to DESPISE running SO HARD. I've been running for seven years now, off and on (a LOT more off than on lol), but its only been in the last ten months that I really and truly have fallen in love with it!

Number one tip is to get a running app, really and truly! They're great for getting training plans to run to, holding you accountable, and tracking your progress! Seriously, it is SO AWESOME to get to see your stats improve over time, its so rewarding and wonderful! I've never personally used it, but my mom uses Nike Run Club, which she highly reccomends, so if you're looking for a simple, streamlined one to start with, go take a look at that!

btw have you heard of this special one called Zombies, Run!? Its a running app that is also an immersive audio drama that makes you feel like the main character in a video game and has singlehandedly gotten me from despising running to loving it- Oh, you have? okay then.... i mean,,,, if youre interested,,, i have an entire sideblog for it,,,, you could send me some asks about it,,,, i'd love to comply...

But seriously ZR has changed my life, I'm being totally serious here. I could elaborate if you'd like, but long story short, I am in the best physical and mental shape of my life bc of this silly zombie app with blorbos in it, so yeah, never gonna stop talking about it lol.

But the reason why that works, is that it makes running fun! Because lets all be honest, running for more than three minutes on a treadmill with no stimulation at all and nothing to think about besides the fact that you're running and that sucks is the WORST. And doing it outside is better because you're actually going somewhere and see things, but its still monotonus and then you're just lasered in on the 'running is horrible' part after a bit longer.

ZR is utterly brilliant because you are physically incapable of being bored while playing it lol. You're not running a mile away from your house then a mile back, you're charging through the streets of an abandonded city, holding a life-saving cure, your best friend in your headset imploring you to keep going as zombies approach, while having the survival of your fellow runner depend on you as they limp from their injury. It is THRILLING and takes your mind off of what you are doing.

BUT MOVING AWAY FROM ZR NOW FINALLY (sorry i really am obsessed)--

It works because you aren't thinking about running. So that's the cheat code, figure out how to run without thinking about what your body is doing and how it feels icky sometimes. You've gotta learn to be very motivated but then also INCREIDIBLY disciplined in order to stick to it. Find some music that makes you feel like you're in a superhero movie (I have some recs if you'd like!!), find a podcast that is super interesting on a topic that you adore, even go running with friends and talk to them about fandom stuff while running!

Find tools to take your mind off of it that works most of the time, and the in the small fraction of the time where you still don't want to do it, learn the discipline to follow through anyway.

But also, I've found that the main reason running stinks, at least at first, is your body isn't used to it. Really! Whether you haven't worked out in your entire life ever, or if you are considered one of the fittest people on the planet in like swimming or something, running is SUPER hard and super terrible at first because you aren't used to it! Even if you are super fit and healthy, the hard cardio and movement that running requires is just very different from everything else! So anyone getting into running ever should NEVER feel bad about themselves when they're just starting! Because it is a seperate and unique thing in its own category that is special and different! It is scientifically proven that it takes 6-10 weeks of running 10-20 miles a week before your body adjusts and then you're used to it.

But guess what? One day, you're going to be running, and suddenly realize that it is magic. You'll realize that you don't have to stop to walk when you usually do- you can go longer than you have before. You'll realize that wait, you can go faster now! Your pace is faster! And then you'll feel a rush of adrenaline and endorphins and oh! THIS is what they mean when they say runners high! You understand why its called is the healthiest addicting drug in the world now! You'll realize that you have a huge smile breaking out on your face and the scenery is gorgeous, even if its in a dark smelly gym, because you're doing it- you're running! And you love it.

Anyone reading this, please give running a good, earnest shot. Lace up your shoes three or four days a week and go jog two or three miles. Keep at it for two months. It'll be a hard two months. But it'll be so so worth it. Just try. What have you got to lose?

Running is magic, and now I'll never give it up.

[awardenandacrow]

FANFIC SNIPPET 32

NOTE: chronologically this falls after The Choice and before Neve’s return. There is more to this between the main part and the letters that I need to fill in. This is directly before the snippet where Neve confronts Rook about her activities in Minrathos (Snippet 17).

[Lucanis wants a sparring partner, and takes the opportunity to help Rook work on her mageknife technique.]

CW/TW: Brief violence, blood.

——————————————————————————

“I’m sorry, I’m just…” Naimeryn groaned in frustration, then tossed her mageknife aside and turned away from him. “I feel like I’m just not *meant* to get this.”

Lucanis’s Crow training screamed through every fiber of his being. You don’t drop your weapon. You don’t turn your back on your opponent. Unthinking, he grabbed her arm and spun her back towards him, mouth open to offer criticism.

Assan had him pinned on his back in an instant with an angry shriek. The griffon snapped his beak at him in irritation.

“Assan!” Rook shouted, grabbing the griffon around the neck. Startled, Assan spun, knocking Rook over.

BLOOD! Spite hissed angrily.

“Assan! Come here!” Davrin’s voice. Lucanis, uninjured, leapt to his feet and closed the distance between himself and Rook in one stride.

“It was a warning,” he told her apologetically, grabbing her arm — much more gently this time. The wounds Assan’s claws had left were shallow, and would likely not even scar, but they bled freely. “What were you thinking?”

“I was *thinking,*” Rook’s voice was small. Hurt. Confused. “That I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Lucanis shook his head, intentionally softening his tone. Rook wasn’t a fledgling. She’d never undergone *any* Crow training. He couldn’t act like that’s what this was. “You can’t just throw your weapon away when you’re sparring. Don’t they teach you that at Weisshaupt?”

“Lucanis,” Davrin’s voice was a warning. Lucanis finally looked up from Naimeryn’s arm, and his heart skipped a beat. Dammit. Her face and ears were red, and she had her head turned away from him to hide her embarrassed tears. He released her.

“We should tend to these,” he said uncomfortably.

“I’ve got it,” she said sharply, standing up with her back to him and going to retrieve her mageknife. “Maybe ask Davrin to spar with you next time. He knows the rules better than I do.”

She walked quickly away, back towards the library, undoubtedly on her way to the infirmary.

“Smooth,” Davrin remarked. He still hadn’t moved from the base of his stairs, where Assan squawked anxiously. “She knows you didn’t mean it, boy. Maybe watch those claws next time, though.”

Lucanis sighed, sheathing his dagger and getting to his feet. He needed someone to release his frustration on, and Davrin was right there, looking so smug.

“I do not understand,” Lucanis snapped at him. “The fabled Grey Wardens, Heroes of Old, but —“

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Davrin scowled at him. “I never knew Rook at Weisshaupt. But I knew *of* her. I’ve been asking around other Wardens I know, and I’m getting the *same* remark. There were Wardens who hated her, because she was *hand recruited* by the Hero of Ferelden herself. Others used to try to cozy up to her to get closer to the Hero, only to find out there were no special circumstances, no special relationship between them, so then they didn’t care.”

Davrin closed the distance between them. “The mage that trained her, Lucienne? A cautious woman. Theory and control. The other mages were leagues ahead of Rook in both, so she trained *alone.* She’s never *had* a sparring partner, Lucanis.”

Davrin turned sharply enough that his shoulder clipped Lucanis, but he let it go. His mind was overflowing with images of Rook — alone.

The apostate daughter of an apostate in an alienage in a kingdom where apostates were more likely to be killed than shown mercy, kept away from the other children for everyone’s safely. The apostate slave in a magister’s household, hated and feared by the slaves who knew, because she could become the favorite if the magister knew. The others, she seemed to have kept at arm’s length, because that was easier than distance becoming hate. The Warden, forcibly isolated from her fellows by recruitment, by skill level, by history, by her superiors. Kept in the most isolated jobs — doing dishes, laundry duty, librarian’s assistant

— to keep her humble. Called a deluded girl for daring to step outside of the carefully drawn box she’d been placed in.

“You know,” Davrin called back from the top of the stairs, “you *love* to make it out like I’m not observant for giving her shit when she doesn’t see something on her left. But this?”

He indicated the courtyard at large.

“This was pretty dense of you.”

…

SPECIAL SNIPPETS

NOTE: there will be some “connective tissue” as it were before the above and these letters, but I haven’t written it yet

—————————————————————————

Hey Neve,

I know things are bad in Minrathos, but I hope you remember we’re here, and can be there to offer support if you only remember to ask. Everyone misses you.

I overheard Rook today. She was in the infirmary, talking to Varric. I think she’s having a harder time with everything than we thought. I want to help you both, but I just don’t know how.

Hoping things are going as well as they can be,

Lace

…

Lace,

If talking to him is what’s going to get her through this, leave it alone. She’ll confide in *us* when she’s ready.

As for Minrathos, it seems I don’t need to ask for help to receive it.

-Neve

…

Neve,

I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.

Lace Harding

[liiixsturniolos]

♡ FORBIDDEN C.S & M.S

Friends don't know the way you taste lalala.. WC: 1.3K

~ You're over at the guy youve been dating, matts house, but when you're done fucking him, your eyes drift onto the other needy boy in the room across the hall, for round two.

warnings!: smut. p in v, oral m receives

kinda cheating not really cus no established relationship, main character lowk a whore!

"Fuck! Yes, Matt!" You screamed, gripping the bedsheets and pushing up your hips, determined to take in all of him. Matts thrusting into you fast, his hips bucking up and pushing deep inside of you, almost bottoming out. The feeling is euphoric, so good. You can't help but think about how you almost said no to coming over tonight and how much you would've regretted that. His cock is twitching inside of you still thrusting in and out, his muscly arms are pinning you down to the bed, as you're reaching your high at the same time as he is.

Loud moans and whines flow from your lips inescapably, then ropes of cum are spurting out of Matt and coating your walls white, as you're throwing your head back with screams of obscenities. "Shitttt- ugh god." He's grunting as he's riding out his high with you.

You both flop onto the bed beside each other, "Fuck- Matt, that was good." You smirk. Matt nods in agreement, gives you a gentle kiss, and heads to the bathroom. "Gonna go to the store and grab some stuff for us, okay?" He tells you, you respond with a smile and nod.

You stare around his room in boredom, examining the objects and trinkets he has scattered on his shelves and the warm coloured lamp in the corner. You realise you've only ever been in Matts room when you'd come over to fuck. Curiosity gets the best of you as you pick yourself up in just your bra and underwear and decide to wander around the rest of the floor.

Creeping out of Matts room, you skip mindlessly along the hallway and to the next room. You figure it must be his brother Chris' room, the cute, immature boy you'd met before. Since he's out tonight you peak inside.

Immediately, you're greeted by someone's eyes staring back at you from the room. "Oh-shit, sorry." You apologise, turning to leave the room in embarrassment, I guess his brothers are home.

"Uh- its fine just close the door." The boy, who you assume is Chris, asks you. His hands underneath the bedsheets he was tucked into, which seemed odd to you, until you saw the bulge under the sheet. The guys hand was under his bedsheet, on his lap? You stare at him awkwardly, as you figure out what he must have been doing before you walked in.

"Shit uh- it's not.. like that-" he starts before you cut him off. "The fuck?" You squeal a little in disbelief. He's been getting off to the sounds of you and his brother fucking!

"Let me just explain.. okay?" He pleads

"Go on please, I'd love to hear why you're jerking off to us." You scoff

"I just - it wasn't to you both. just to you." He says

"Oh." You respond

"Yeah. I haven't had sex in a while, and there's a really hot girl moaning and screaming in the next room, so..." He defends himself.

You feel a little empathetic for desperate Chris, staring up at you from his bed. His puppy dog eyes and his pathetic face, his hands wrapped around his aching cock.

So you inevitably crawl up onto it to join him. After all he's really fucking hot just like his brother.

"Wha-what are you doing?" He stutters as you crawl up on top of him.

"Helping you." You whisper into his ear, pulling the bedsheet down and creeping underneath it.

You're underneath the blanket now, where you pull Chris' boxers down lower and stroke your hand across his length. "Fuck- yeah." He moans out as you stroke your hand up and down his cock.

Your lips latch around his dripping tip, spreading the pre cum up and down him and then sucking his tip gently. "Shit- you don't know how long I wanted this." He tells you, his voice shaking as he can't stop thinking about the feeling of your lips around him.

"Really? How long have you wanted me?" You ask pulling him out of your mouth. "Tell me." You smirk, taking him back into your mouth deeper.

"Since you and Matt started dating a few months ago." He barely manages to grunt out. Damn, since that long? You could litterly feel your red lacy underwear soaking beneath you at the idea of him fantasising about you all this time.

You have one hand wrapped around his dick and the other on his lap. Your lips are locked around his dick giving him sloppy kisses, sucks and licks up his slit. Grunts and soft whines flow out of his mouth, "I need you..." he begs, his soft blue eyes looking down at you.

"I need all of you." He whines. You take your lips off of him, and he grabs you gently by the shoulders, flipping you onto your back.

Chris' hand is slithering down your body to your thigh, gripping your thigh, leaving his large red handprint there. He slides his finger across your clothed pussy. "So wet for me, huh?" He remarks with a smirk.

"Yes, all for you." You whimper, anticipating what's to come.

He tears off your underwear, his eyes darting and lustful. His soft hands clasp your thighs as he shakily aligns himself with your entrance. "God." He whines out, slipping into you.

"I need you so bad, oh my god." He whines, slowly thrusting into you. "You have me." You whisper to him.

His thrusts get messier, sloppier and faster as your bodies collide and your wet, gummy walls take him in deeper.

As you're both arriving at your high, you're grasping chris' neck for stability, feeling your orgasm crushing down on you. You bite down on his chain to keep from screaming as you see stars.

You're too indulged in the mess you've created, the wet patch on the bed and the echoing noises of your skin slapping together to care about what Matt will make of this. His brother was too hot and needy to step away from.

This felt too good to be so wrong. You and Matt weren't boyfriend-girlfriend yet anyways, or maybe that's what you told yourself to feel less evil about cheating on him right now.

Suddenly you become aware of the jingling sound of keys in the door, and the terrifying thought of Matt catching you two. "Shit- fuck!" You scramble out of the bed and try your best to re-attach your underwear to your body.

You can hear Matt around the house, calling your name as he searches for you. Your hearts beating so loud you can hear it clearly. "Hide somewhere!" Chris suggests anxiously.

You jump into the closet in his room, crawling up in a pile of clothes and closing the door on yourself.

The door to chris' room creaks open. "Oh, hey Chris when did you get home?" Matt asks his brother with a sweet smile.

"Uhm- a bit ago, was just taking a nap." He tells him.

"What's on your bed?" Matt asks

"Water- I uh spilled it all." Chris clearly lies to him.

"Oh okay, was just looking for y/n, you know if she left or something?" Matt questions

"She wasn't here when I got home, must've left earlier." Chris lies, due to his inadequate lying skills his eyes were constantly shifting between Matts face and his closet.

"What's up with you staring at the closet dude?" Matt jokes

"Uhm- nothin'." Chris blurts

"You're acting weird." Matt laughs, walking toward the closet you were hidden in, pulling open the wooden door.

"Y/n, the fuck are you doing in here?" He shouts.

"I can- I can explain okay." You stutter awkwardly.

"No thanks, I think I get it no need to explain." Matt huffs.

"Matt please!" Your eyes start to tear up. Why did you do this? You just ruined your chances.

"Just leave." Matt says, turning to face you with glossy eyes.

A/N: I hope u liked it!! took forever to write this omg. Also, this is majorly inspired by @y3sterdaysproblem s GREEDY, which I love so go read that too.

my hoes on the taglist!: (ASK TO BE ADDED ANYTIME!) : @matthewsroses @chrislilcumslvt @pvssychicken @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @sturniolo-fann @matts-myloverboy @emely9274 @sophand4n4 @uncannyguava @chrissweetheart @certifiedstarrr @slut4chris888 @courta13

[azazelsazaleas]

Set a course...for home

So I just finished Voyager. And I have thoughts.

Endgame, like the series, was good but felt like it could've been so much more. I'm not the first fan to point out that it's weird that the last thing we see is Voyager flying towards Earth, with no coda or montage or anything showing each of the crew when they get home. What really surprised me on this viewing (I saw it once back when it first aired, but it's been over 20 years and I barely remembered it) was how slow the pacing was until the last 20 minutes or so. I kinda feel like the writers could've trimmed a bit out of it so we could have a more satisfying denouement. Oh well. They got home, Janeway thoroughly wrecked the Borg, and I'm not going to lie - I got a little choked up when they fly out of the exploding Borg Sphere and Janeway says, "We did it."

With that said, may as well go through the good, the not-so-good, and any other random thoughts I have in retrospect.

The good :

Captain Kathryn Janeway.

I'm sorry, that deserves to be written thusly:

CAPTAIN KATHRYN FUCKING JANEWAY

Oh my god, I love this woman. I think, at this point, she's my favorite Star Trek captain and easily one of my favorite characters in the franchise. She absolutely radiates an aura of "I am in charge here, and this situation is going to go how I decide it goes," and she delivers every damn time. Strong-willed, controversial, authoritative, intelligent, creative, and just damned incredible. Janeway alone is a major reason to give this show a watchthrough.

Not to mention, Kate Mulgrew is a fucking INCREDIBLE actress. She brings 110% to every episode, and I swear to god, she basically carried the first two or three seasons.

And speaking of amazing actresses, Jeri Ryan was incredible. A lot of people loved her performance in Body and Soul (and yes, watching her channel Robert Picardo was delightful), but seeing her constantly changing personalities in Infinite Regress two seasons earlier was the big "Holy Shit" moment for me. Even beyond that, she was brilliant as Seven of Nine (and say what you will about ST:Picard, I loved seeing her step back into the role). It also doesn't hurt that Seven is one of the most interesting characters on the show, if not on Star Trek.

In general, the show had some great characters on the main cast. I found I really liked Tuvok and B'Elanna as well. Tim Russ nailed that "annoyed Vulcan who secretly cares" thing, and I thought B'Elanna's struggles with her identity were generally well-handled, at least for mid-late-90s TV.

I'm honestly surprised how fine I was with Tom/B'Elanna. I was not expecting that relationship to work as well as it did.

Speaking of "didn't expect that to work," Naomi Wildman was genuinely endearing as the "kid on the starship" character type that Star Trek seemed adamant on having in the 80s and 90s. I"m glad the writers learned their lessons post-Wesley Crusher.

Oddly enough, I also found I enjoyed some of the "bad" episodes - Threshold, Tuvix, etc. Voyager got pretty weird, so some of the more questionable creative choices were just damned entertaining. Not all of them, though. Which brings me to...

The Bad:

Oh my god fuck the Kazon. They are easily the worst recurring villain race I've seen on Star Trek. They don't even seem like ST villains, they seem like the kind of thing you'd see on a b-rate late night 1990s crappy sci-fi action show. They're like an attempt to make Klingon copies but without literally anything whatsoever that makes the Klingons compelling.

Speaking of which, fuck Seska, too. I still have a hard time buying that any self-respecting Cardassian would look at the Kazon and go, "yep, I'll throw my lot in with them."

The whole Neelix/Kes thing was...gross. I'm sorry, there's no way around that. They had no chemistry, no compelling reason to be in a relationship, and the whole thing with Kes's age felt like a variation on the theme of "she may look 12 but she's actually a 5000 year old dragon." Whichever producer came up with that needs to have something solid thrown at them.

In general, Neelix was just the worst character for the first couple or three seasons. He got a lot better, but early Neelix was...yikes. I got genuinely frustrated with how much time was focused on him.

I also have mixed feelings about Chakotay. Sometimes he was pretty great, but the whole behind-the-seasons thing with the "cultural advisor" made for some pretty bad early character building, and after they gave up on that, he felt kind of flat. And now that I think of it, inconsistent. It seems like the writers (at least in the early seasons) couldn't decide between making him a tough hardass who'll punch you if you don't get in line or the more calm, measured, cautious voice in contrast to Janeway's bullheadedness.

Seven/Chakotay was just...no.

Other random thoughts:

I have mixed feelings about the EMH. Robert Picardo was great in the role, but as the character progressed, I feel like he got away with crossing lines he really should not have. The entire episode Renaissance Man just pissed me off. Can't say I was thrilled with some of his behavior in Body and Soul, either. The whole running gag of him having a giant ego seemed to swing between hilarious and painful to watch, as well.

The show was good, but it felt like it could've been so much more. Part of it was Paramount's insistence on not having anything serialized, but part of it was also how actionized it got. There's a number of episodes that felt like they could've done something more interesting but instead the producers wanted phasers and explosions.

I have very mixed feelings about how the Borg were handled. On one hand, Seven is an amazing character, the Scorpion 2-parter is probably my favorite pair of episodes in the show's run, and there are a couple other Borg-relate episodes I liked. On the other hand, I thought the Borg as a direct threat got stale quickly, Dark Frontier nerfed them way too much, they felt underwhelming as an enemy in Endgame, and (yes I know this is more of a criticism of First Contact, but still) the Borg having a Queen ruins a lot of the creepy mystique they have. No matter how you slice it, I think the Borg as a recurring enemy were pretty much spent by the end of Voyager.

Favorite episodes (off the top of my head): Scorpion 1&2, Equinox 1&2, Bride of Chaotica!

Final score: 7 out of 9 (you were expecting anything else?)

[ieppiq]

I am even more interested and intrigued by your Obsidian Sapphires WIP after reading your answers. Thank you for tagging me! Appreciate it, lots. Will answer for my main WIP, IRIS' L from the B/T Tetralogy WIP.

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

Specifically talking about IRIS' L and its' theme of Growth: the main lesson shall be Owning Your Decisions And Learning Accountability. I chose this lesson because it is something my teenhood therapist brought up about little me and I was utterly confused, until I grew a little older and realized many peeps (me, included) are not taught the true extent of this basic lesson. It's usually - own up to your mistakes, decisions have consequences but never really went to in depth. So, I decided to try to portray the toxicity of preteens/teens and what they could consider to better their mental health and lives.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

There are two separate worldbuildings and lore. Again, specifically speaking of Iris: my main inspirations for the worldbuilding were SVTFOE (animated show) and Transformers 4 (movie).

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness or help the reader grow as a person?

I think I basically answered this in the first question but I'll rephrase the answer to the later half of the ask. Firstly, my MC - Iris - is trying to maintain (restrain) her relationships while fully embracing escapism. A juggle. Lastly, I do not have a particular goal for Iris, other than to showcase an example of the plot's lessons and themes. I do want to give seventh grade me some grace with a part of her arc, though.

How many chapters is your story going to have?

A number of Stages (Acts), twenty-seven chapters with parts.

Is it fan fiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original Content! I plan to self-publish it! The platforms will be revealed when the electronic release happens. (But you can also figure them out if you stalk my socials a little bit. Uhhh. Maybe don't? Surprises are fun).

When did you start writing?

Properly? Seven years ago.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

Hm, this is some advice I've given and here is some writer encourangement I wrote down one time. The writers I follow are incredibly chill, cool, very inspiring and/or kind af (a couple are irl friends but they do not have writer socials). I'll write down the ones I follow from the main account (you're here): @/moonlit-sunflower-books, @/ellierenae, @/orange-is-the-happiest-colour, @/ashen-crest, @/wayfaringauthorofficial, @/coffeeandcalligraphy, @/pens-swords-stuff, @/writer-candy, @/ryns-ramblings, @/writing-with-olive, @/fleetingfictions, @/duskyrapunzel, @/istabraq01, @/helenasurvives, @/riaisntwriting, @athenswrites, @/writingamongther0ses, @/naps-tries-writing, @/orangeismorethanacolour, @/kspendragon, @alecsaltylightwood, @/cianawrites, @myheartgoesuwus, @/misswriteress, @/kakiross, @/endless-plotter, @/soupy8lowfishow, @/olivescales3, @/oros-ash3s, @/aalinaaaaa, @/pluttskutt, @/dustylovelyrun, @/abalonetea, @/bethanywritesbooks, @thinkdrinkandsink, @/talesofsorrowandofruin, @/cath-crtic, @/ssnapsaurus, @/ettawritesnstudies, @/tragicbackstoryenjoyer, @/writingandlove, @/amongwriters-archive, @septemberliterature, @the-violet-writer, @mjmnorwood, @bebewrites, @/metaphors-and-melodrama, @owlfly, @/surroundedbypearls, @/harinawa, @yukina-chan, @costi-the-sage. Some are inactive or straight up turned ghosts. And there may be some I missed, sorry.

Open Tag! But also random tagging (feel free to ignore): @olivescales3 , @moremysteriesthantragedies , @autumnalwalker , @cheerfulmelancholies , @drowsy-quill , @ellierenae , @dustylovelyrun , @pluttskutt , @oros-ash3s and @ryns-ramblings .

Author Ask Tag

Thank you to @tildeathiwillwrite for the tag <333

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What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

In reference to Obsidian Sapphires (because that’s the wip whose theme and message I’ve fleshed out the most), the core lesson would be to not let ambitions of grandeur, perfection, divinity, etc derail you from the things you have/the people you love, and that even the most seemingly perfect solutions can still cause tragedy. The central identity of Obsidian Sapphires was always in relation to family, personal identity and the Allaitri Chalice was central to Eshani’s goals even from the first ever draft. This draft focuses on the Chalice and its ramifications as a result of it being openly used in society.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

A lot of it is inspired by my perspective, my experiences, etc. It draws heavily on certain aspects of my home country, and also some of my own thoughts too. For instance, Helindians being maestros at non-alcoholic fruity drinks derived from my own wish fulfillment! I don’t drink, I’ve never had a drop of alcohol in my life.

It also contains a lot of nature, because it’s a direct contrast to how sterile and corporate the real-world is and I think it really helps make the world very aesthetic, very alluring, somewhere that people would get sucked into and never want to leave. A faerie-style honey trap, if you will.

I'm going to give a specific mention of Morilaste, for it takes a certain amount of its inspiration from Italian art and history. This really became apparent after my visit to Milan and Venice, because I was in awe at the art and architecture. The scale, the details, the artistry, everything. Absolutely stunning. I find that when I'm in or near places like cathedrals and other highly grand, artistic structures, it feels otherworldly. I am awestruck that people made these, that people put funding, time and effort into these grand structures, and we get to benefit from the fruits of their artistry hundreds and thousands of years later. (This is why minimalistic, corporate-hellscape buildings of the modern age break my heart)

And it's that sense of otherworldliness that I want to evoke when designing Morilaste, because I want it to capture the aura of divinity that the court's namesake sought for. I want to use the sheer scale of it to encapsulate just how much of a beautiful, deadly trap it is, and how it contrasts and complements the way ordinary Helindians perceive it from the outside, with basically nothing but rumours and stories to rely on.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness or help the reader grow as a person?

Alycja’s trying to prove herself to others, reclaim her innocence in the face of those trying to misconstrue her motives. She wants to be loved, she wants to be admired, and her ordeal is coming at a time when she’s at the start of her teenage years, a pivotal time when she is beginning to flesh out her own identity separate from her identity as part of her family. Her arc is one of the most prominent ones in terms of the theme, because her choices threaten a touch of tragedy almost no matter which path she takes. In a sense, it’s a warning to not let others take advantage of you, and also an affirmation that there is a lot of power in one’s own decisions, even in the face of things that are outside of one’s control.

As for Eshani, she’s also trying to prove herself, but more to repair relations with the people she cares about. She knows what she wants, but her arc is about actually confronting the reality of her desires, and her realising that she wasn’t ready yet. This occurs all while balancing the responsibilities of her current place in life, trying to claw her way out without betraying so many people. She carries a lot of guilt, and the message I want to portray through her endeavour is that the past is the past, it cannot be changed, but the next best thing is to do something now, in the present. Dwelling on what could’ve been is what sets her back, and I look forward to the part where her character development fully clicks into place, I think it’s kinda beautiful (and it fits with the theme and her goals :DDD)

How many chapters is your story going to have?

I’ve an estimate of 30, but this could easily change.

Is it fan fiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content, planned to go on my blog :D

When did you start writing?

Wow, it’s been ten, going on eleven years at this stage!

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

Don’t give up on your ideas! And especially don’t delete them. Stash them away, let them ferment, make sure they’re written down somewhere (and not just on a computer, physical notes are important too). You’ll never know when your ideas may germinate and go full circle. And even if they don’t go anywhere, there’s value even in those ideas just existing. (Side note, people love deleted scenes and snippets!)

I follow so many fantastic, talented, creative writers on here (and I know a decent amount in real life too!), that I would break the tags per post limit so many times over. For the writers that I mention here, consider yourselves tagged for this game, and also here’s an Open Tag for anyone/everyone who wants to answer these <3

@seastarblue @bardic-tales @ominous-faechild @leahnardo-da-veggie @the-ellia-west @vesanal @thebookishkiwi @jev-urisk @cljordan-imperium @ieppiq @angelfevr @gioiaalbanoart @guessillcallitart @thereadingfoz @honeybewrites @oliolioxenfreewrites @theglitchywriterboi @corinneglass @rae-butter @oros-ash3s @mundanemoongirl @scarletteflamerald @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @ceph-the-ghost-writer @flock-from-the-void @tryingtimi @outpost51 @mattresses-and-macaroni @limitlesswritingvoid @agirlandherquill @space-writes @winterandwords @finickyfelix @wintherlywords @druidx @avrablake @inkednotebook @lizardperson @ineedaplacetostay @gaslightwestern @satohqbanana @acertainmoshke @sleepyowlwrites @talesofsorrowandofruin @talesfromaurea @the-golden-comet @bi-focal12 @write-with-will @glassstardust22124 <333