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chanis-banani · 10 months ago

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Forget Seungwoo, you two are now my no.1 nemeses.

The Dock of the Bay (m)

Pairing: Han Seungwoo x fem!reader

Summary: The night is beautiful, the water is fine, and you aren’t afraid of anything. Except maybe getting caught.

Word Count: ~3k

Tags/Warnings: mature content (minors dni), skinny-dipping, pwp, established relationship, they’re both brats your honor

Author’s Note: @chanis-banani eat my ass <3

You’d never admit it, especially not to him, but Han Seungwoo deserves full marks for this date.

He sent you a link this afternoon to a restaurant for a type of food you’d never tried before, stating a time later that night and “be there”. You responded with the middle finger emoji for the bossiness, to which he replied “they’ve got your favorite whiskey and I just got paid, so it’s on me”. You immediately replied with the halo emoji, then “yes sir” and a wink. He said “thought so, little brat” and indulged your ensuing indignance.

Ghanaian food, it turns out, is absolutely delicious. You’re not sure why they have your whiskey there, since it isn’t Ghanaian, but maybe it’s just that the restaurant is local. One of the guys from Seungwoo’s pickup footie team comes out from the kitchen to say hey and offers you both another round on him, so you’re pleasantly buzzed by the time the two of you exit into the warm evening.

You love the way urban places are at night, and you think Seungwoo must know it. You love the way the temperature mellows, the way all the street lamps and storefront signs create a comforting glow in the dark. People are still out, but with less of a hurry or end goal, enjoying the same thing you are.

Seungwoo ends up guiding you both to the waterfront to meander along the boardwalk. Things are alive out here, hopping with snack vendors and entertainers and game booths. Seungwoo offers to try and win you a prize at a game, something he knows you’ll roll your eyes at him for (when has he ever been known for gentlemanly chivalry?) and he laughs when you do just that.

You do indulge in a fortune teller together, just for kicks and giggles, and the woman reads your palms. You’re pretty sure she’s besotted with Seungwoo, because she says something generic about you and then says, “careful with this one. He’s trouble. The good kind” about Seungwoo, with a wink.

You cross your eyes at him when he waggles his eyebrows at you.

He catches you staring out at the water a few times before taking your hand and suggesting you both go down to the shoreline. You both step over a low-hanging chain holding a “Closed: No Visitors Allowed” sign on it and ditch your socks and shoes nearby, wandering barefoot in the sand.

Your whiskey buzz from before has worn off, but the warmth of it has lingered in your blood, kept everything around you lovely. Even Seungwoo. You find yourself staring at him as he scours the shoreline for skipping rocks. The reflection of the moon on the water lighting his face, the breeze off the water ruffling his hair, gives him an unfairly ethereal aura. Unfair because his demeanor is never, ever ethereal; why should he get to look the part?

He tries to teach you how to skip rocks, finding more underneath a large, empty fishing pier farther down the shoreline. You learn to copy his stance and the flick of his wrist perfectly, but nothing ever skips. You don’t like him besting you in things, so to distract him you grab the hem of your shirt and peel it up and over your head.

Seungwoo’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

“Is it my birthday?” He teases, gaze trailing over your newly exposed skin.

You roll your eyes and try to ignore the way his gaze makes your skin feel hot. You feign nonchalance as you half-fold your shirt and set it aside to reach behind you and unclasp your bra. “I want to go skinny-dipping.”

“What, here? Now?” He glances up and down the shoreline, then above your heads at the silent fishing pier above you.

You smile and turn your back to him teasingly, nudging your bra straps off your shoulders and removing it. “Why not? Too scared to join me?”

“Could get caught.”

You grin at him over your shoulder. “Isn’t that part of the fun?”

“Your definition of fun is interesting,” he says, but he’s grinning, too.

You turn back to your task and laugh when you hear the rustle of his own clothing.

He’s done faster than you, not bothering to be neat and leaving his clothes haphazard on the sand. You turn and watch him wade into the water as you finish folding your jeans, silently admiring his back muscles and what little ass he has to speak of while he can’t see you doing it.

He turns back in waist-deep water when you start wading in after him. He watches you with lazy heat, gaze trickling down your body from head to toe with unashamed lust.

You keep wading and fold your arms across your chest, fully aware it makes your tits look good and pretending you have no idea. “Staring is rude.”

“Uh huh,” he says absently, staring anyway. You can feel his gaze like a hand on your skin, especially when he lingers below your navel.

You kick at the water and splash him. He coughs in surprise, hands lifting and wiping the water from his face up into his hair.

“Perv,” you say lightly, smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

His grin is wolfish when you come to a stop in front of him.

“It was your idea to swim naked in public and I’m the perv?”

He makes a compelling argument, but you’ll never admit it, so you splash him again.

He laughs and reaches out lightning-fast to catch your wrist before you can splash him a third time, grinning when your attempts to pull it free go in vain.

“Easy, little firecracker,” he murmurs, wading backwards into deeper water, pulling you with him.

You splash him with your free hand, and he grins and ducks fully underwater, letting go of you entirely. A moment later, you shriek as a hand on your ankle yanks you under, too.

You emerge, spluttering, a few seconds later to a grinning Seungwoo, rivulets of water flowing from his hair.

“Not fair,” you protest.

“Cry about it,” he suggests, biting his lip and splashing you full in the face before diving away.

You give chase, the two of you splashing and giggling and swimming farther out underneath the pier. You end up piggybacking him when the water becomes too deep for you to stand upright, and his hands settle under your knees, thumbs rubbing little circles into your skin.

You hook your ankles together around his front, and they brush faintly against a little thatch of hair low on his belly, and a smooth hardness.

You grin and hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Isn’t the fear of getting caught being publicly indecent supposed to kill libido?”

He sighs as you begin sucking a mark into his skin.

“Tell that to the body part of yours radiating a thousand degrees against my tailbone right now,” he says.

He makes another compelling argument, but you once again don’t want to admit it, so you suck a little harder at the spot on his neck.

He manhandles you around before you can protest until you’re piggybacking him from the front. Even in the dark beneath the pier, you can make out the smile on his face, one that feels especially fond. You love it, and it also makes some feeling in your chest squirm a little, so you lean in and kiss him before you have to think much about it, before he can say something dumb and ruin it.

He sighs and runs his hands up your thighs and hips, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you firmly against him. It’s different to kiss him like this, your mouths slick from swimming, naked bodies weightless and brushing into each other with the gentle swell of the water. You could easily get addicted to it. He’s an infuriatingly good kisser, as always, no other way to describe it but as somehow kissing you with his whole body. Every inch of him is into you, invested in the teasing, openmouthed kisses he’s engulfing you in, and maybe you were thinking of getting him to do exactly this, and that’s why you’re hot and bothered.

You get so lost in the building heat of kissing him that you make a noise of surprise when your back bumps up against something. Seungwoo only kisses you harder, one hand leaving your back to brace against whatever you’re leaning against—one of the posts holding up the pier, you realize—and the other guiding you closer to him. He grinds his hips into the scorching warmth of yours, unhurried, the water making the glide smooth. You both groan into one another’s mouths at the feeling. Your fingernails instinctively dig into his shoulders, both for purchase and in appreciation for the slow, hard way he’s grinding just right along your clit.

His mouth leaves yours and begins sucking a path of leisurely, biting kisses along your jawline. One of his hands weaves into your hair, angling your head so he can continue trailing the wet kisses down your neck. You can hear the swell of your racing pulse in your ears, the way each breath you take comes a little quicker, a little shallower. Lust shimmers under your skin, lighting up under his other hand, now coasting stealthily down the front of your body.

You moan and thump your head back against the post when he cups you firmly between your legs. Fuck, you need this. He lifts his head and covers your mouth with his again, kissing the breath out of you until your head is spinning and your body is aching for more of him. His pace is still deliberate and measured, fingertips massaging slowly up and down the swollen, parted opening of your body. You wriggle your hips, working to get him to touch the places that yearn to be petted most.

His hand tightens in your hair, securing you in place. You feel him smile into your mouth before he nips at your lower lip.

“Be good and hold still,” he murmurs, lips trailing along the water-slick curve of your jaw and brushing over your ear, “or I’ll make you wait longer to get what you need.”

Ugh. You huff out an exasperated breath. He always does this, always ruins a perfectly nice thing by challenging you to “be good” in some annoyingly pliant way. Be good, hah. What if he just gave you what you wanted when you wanted it, for a change? Would it injure his ego that much?

You grin and squirm in his hold, trying to snap your legs shut, but he’s right between them and won’t budge. Determined now, you keep fidgeting against him, trying to get away, fighting not to give him the satisfaction of teasing you. He lets go of your hair and grabs at your hip, trying to keep you in place, but the slippery nature of being submerged in water works against him and you slip free. You dive aside with a laugh, Seungwoo hot on your tail.

The two of you wrestle with one another, the water thrashing into choppy, bubbly little waves around you. Your mistake is letting him corral you into deeper water, where you don’t have the leverage of the ground. After another brief struggle, Seungwoo succeeds in pinning your arms immobile behind you, your back to his front. You strain your legs for the ground, pointing your toes and slicing them through the water below for purchase, but you can’t find it. In the end, you have to settle your feet against his shins just to keep your chin above the water.

Seungwoo is panting hard but grinning in triumph against your temple. He tsks at you.

“All that just for wanting to give you a nicer orgasm,” he says. “Amazing we didn’t attract any attention.”

Your body betrays you, thrilling back to life when his hand not securing you in place slides down your front again.

You gasp wildly, nearly choking on the water around you, when his fingers part you with ease and two of them sink inside you all the way to the knuckle.

Seungwoo’s smirk drifts from your temple to the shell of your ear. “Better keep quiet or someone might hear.”

You open your mouth to tell him just what you’d make them hear, just as his fingers crook inside of you roughly, right into a spot so sensitive you can’t think straight. You make a choked, gurgling noise, panting and fighting to keep your wits about you as he keeps massaging his fingertips right into that spot.

He chuckles, sucking a kiss to your earlobe, before snapping his wrist and fucking his fingers into you sharply. You moan out, conflicted between the desire to ruin his plans and the desire for him, for this. You try experimentally to wriggle away from him, failing.

“Mmmm,” he coos, building a steady but harsh pace. “Can’t move. Can’t struggle. So good and obedient for me.”

Horny rage floods your mind at “obedient”. How dare he? You lift a foot away from his leg to kick him, but you only lose your balance and slip sideways. His hand stays exactly where it is, meaning you fall hard into the thrust of his fingers. A desperate moan punches out of your chest against your will.

He makes it worse and grinds his palm hard into your clit, sparks of pleasure threatening to weaken your muscles.

“If you wanted it harder you could’ve asked,” Seungwoo purrs, and you can hear his grin.

“Oh f-fuck you—ah!”

You scramble to re-balance your feet against his shins as he picks up a harder pace. God. Fuck. Every rough thrust of his fingers is delicious, maddening. You can hear yourself laboring for breath over the gentle lap of the water, and then, worse—the distant murmur of voices.

Seungwoo finally releases your arms and covers your mouth, tilting your chin up an inch. You grasp up at his shoulders to keep yourself upright in the water as he takes another step deeper.

He presses your body firmly back against his, mouth at your ear again.

“Keep quiet unless you want them to hear how I make you come.”

And then he starts fingerfucking you harder than before. Your eyes roll back into your head; holy shit, that’s perfect, that’s so infuriatingly perfect. Fuck, it’s not fair. Footsteps continue closer from the shore end of the pier, and you bite down hard on your tongue to stifle all the pitiful noises you want to make. God, you want to be mad at him for this, but the threat of being discovered is only sending a spike of heat down your spine.

Seungwoo, for the brutal pace he’s setting, is keeping surprisingly quiet. Being further submerged in the water has kept any movement of his arm from making splashes. This hardly seems fair. Too easy for him. You let go of one of his shoulders and fumble behind you, down low on his torso, towards the solid protrusion pressed against your back.

You hear Seungwoo’s breath stutter as you wrap your hand around him and pump, attempting to keep pace with how his fingers are drilling into you. He thrusts sharply into that little sensitive patch inside of you in warning. You work desperately to keep pumping even as the pleasure fogs your mind. He startles you and bites down hard on your neck beneath your ear, muffling the quietest of moans into your skin.

The footsteps, as well as muffled voices, linger in place from down the pier. Your mind feels hazy, too many things to focus on at once—keeping yourself above water, keeping yourself quiet, despite your neck slowly bruising under Seungwoo’s mouth, your hand faltering over his cock, your intimate muscles gradually clamping into a vise around his unrelenting fingers. It’s so good, everything feels so good, he’s hitting the perfect spot over and over again just as rough as you like it, and fire is beginning to creep up the backs of your legs and into your stomach, euphoric heat stoking into a full flame, it’s perfect, just like that, right there—

You don’t realize he’s yanked his hand out from between your legs until it’s too late. You gape, entire body wracked with orgasmic shudders as you clamp down and down and down on nothing, nothing at all. Holy shit. Fuck. You gasp as quietly as you can for air, desire aching inside of you in unfulfilled disappointment. As the haze of lust slowly begins to dissipate, a whole different kind of fire begins to burn in your gut. Dipping your face down into the water, you scream in utter rage.

You feel Seungwoo smile against your neck.

The voices and the footsteps have retreated back down the pier and into the night. For a long moment, the two of you float there together, catching your breath.

Seungwoo speaks up first, letting go of you.

“Should’ve listened and let me give you the nice orgasm, huh?”

You turn to him, incredulous, and see the bastard grinning.

“I,” you say, with surprisingly even calmness, “am going to fucking kill you for that.”

The water is throwing little sparkles into his eyes, gleaming in amusement.

“Well…to kill me, you’d have to catch me first.”

And then his hands come down on your shoulders, dunking you beneath the surface.

In the tranquil quiet under the water, you take a moment to plot his demise. When your head breaks the surface again, he’s already swimming for shore. You give chase, and despite your righteous indignation at the ruined orgasm, you feel yourself grin.

As much as you hate to admit it…Han Seungwoo is knocking it out of the park with this date. And you’re going to make him pay for it.

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ride-thedragon · 8 months ago

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Restyling House Velayron.

To me, they were done the most dirty in terms of costumes. Older members first because they establish the world the young ones inherited. So they set the fashion of the house.

Corlys Velayron.

For me, the thought is that Corlys is two things, wealthy and beyond the idea of Westeros. He is the sailor of the nine Voyages, the head of the richest House in Westeros. The pleasantries his title should afford are outweighed by his acclaim and place in history. He is a player in the game, but in appearance, he's beyond fairness. Extravagant jewels and patterns from trading and rich materials that scream, we all know the one thing that kept me from that throne.

Rhaenys Targaryen Velayron

Mother is a Baratheon, a Velayron, and a Targaryen. She's also the style icon of her house. She grew up the seeming heir to the iron throne and is the wife of Lord Corlys. Her ability to play the part of reconciled Princess is only counteracted by her love of Targaryen heraldry. Or the red queen Melyes'. If she is the queen who never was, she should remind them as to why. Her house is also huge in trade. We can’t forget that this is the daughter of Jocelyn Baratheon. She doesn't choose sides, she invokes the memory of Jaehaerys' reign itself.

Laenor Velayron

Baby Laenor

So baby Laenor doesn't have much of a place of court, but he is Corlys' heir and expected to be a man of the court. So I think he's dripped out like the heir of house Velayron but dressed for the court by Rhaenys. The combination of the best of both his parents.

Teen Laenor.

Locs grow in 5 years, they grow a lot more than they do in the show and I don't know why Laenor didn't have longer locs. There is this duality that he can't reconcile his sexuality and what is expected of him, but I do think this is when he decides to play the part of an eligible bachelor. Even though he's still a Velayron, he's dressing more like his mom. Big and high hair. Robes and overall Westeros peak fashion. But also pretty boy loc styles. Setting the standard for Lord Consort.

Adult Laenor.

Okay, so this is the last part. We see Laenor in full dress once, maybe and never again. He's disillusioned from court and what is expected of him. He's dresses still like his position and represents his faction, but he longs to be somewhere he's wanted and belongs. He's isolated from his daily life and is trying his best. He's just a hollow placeholder for his former determined self. This is also the introduction of Velayron head scarves because they look cool.

Laena Velayron Targaryen

Baby Laena.

So, like everyone else, she is the set standard like her mother and father. She is the richest lady in Westeros. She does her hair in different styles that seem to reflect the dresses she wears, and the dresses she wears communicate her want to travel like her father. When she is presented to Viserys, it's almost a gaudy expression of the house Velayron and heir wealth. With style cues of both Rhaenys and Corlys, her outfit communicates the potential reach of this alliance and all that is at stake. But her hair is still childish, and the style stifles her.

Teen Laena

Baddest bitch in Westeros is back with her revenge arc. Her hair has evolved but is still ever-changing with both twists that look like locs and hair styles that communicate a maturity from her. Every time you see her because it is at this point you see her with Viserys and at the wedding she is looking like she's in a revenge dress. Her style is more adapted to Westeros with a love of Essos Fabrics and Patterns and corsets that look like the shipwright women of Driftmark. She is also now a dragonrider, so I think that adds to the confidence. She's also the most wanted match to have based on power along. Rider of Vhagar and the only daughter of the house Velayron. We never see her more true to her love of Driftmark. She revels in her wealth and power.

Adult Laena.

Two things. She's pregnant and she wants to go home. She's a traveller with Daemon, so I don't think she's going out of her way to dress in King's Landing fashion. That's not the way she misses home. She misses her mom, so she has high hair, still with twists instead of locs to symbolise her missing the men and blues and robes because she's in Essos, but she's a Velayron. Big jewels like her father and mother. This is her emulating her family because she wants them, wants her children to be familiar, this is Laena missing her old self.

Vaemond Velayron.

Uncle Vaemond is a Velayron man through and through. He'd have the smallest locs we'd see because he's on Driftmark and able to maintain it. He dresses in the colours of his house and in the fashion of Pentoshi traders. He's the most Essos leaning man in Westeros you'd see outside of Dorne. He has the freedom of the second son and shows that off in his styles. He is of House Velayron and does not care to appease house Targaryen in their quests for expanding power.

Next up, we'll follow the style narrative of the young ones

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