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#as I address the tags/warnings there
buskerjaskier · 2 years
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Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Additional Tags: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion Friendship, Father-Daughter Relationship, Aftermath of Torture, Burns, Curses, Period Typical Attitudes, Racism, Xenophobia, Elf Persecution, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Mess, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Communicating, POV Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Fix-It of Sorts, Post-Season/Series 02 Summary:
“Please,” she begs, planting herself in front of him to act as a physical barrier, forcing him to stop. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Melitele’s tits, you’re persistent. Isn’t your…” His left hand does something complicated in a strange flourish, as though grappling for the right word. “... actual father, here somewhere?” It doesn’t sound like the word he’d been searching for, the common honorific somehow sounding foreign in his mouth.
“I was with him,” she admits, thinking about Geralt because he is the closest thing to a father she has now. “But… we got separated.”
The stranger raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “So, now you’re looking to adopt a new one?”
...
Alternatively: When Ciri gets separated from Geralt, she has to rely on the kindness of one reluctant stranger until she can find the witcher again. She doesn't intend to get attached - and it's apparent that neither does the stranger - but destiny always finds a way to fuck things up.
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stavosmissionary · 1 year
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targs + The Cycle
on how targaryen incest is an endless cycle of grooming which entails the fuckening of the sexual and the familial
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imorphemi · 11 months
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My favorite scene from Aria of Pride and Deceit written by @asthmaticbee, I read through this fic twice yesterday its so good and sooooo fun! Love love loveeee all the dynamics between Ed and the rest of the cast especially with Al and Winry, I can't wait to read from Al's perspective oh man
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crow--teeth · 2 years
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This is totally random but I find it so weird how "furries" always want to anthropomorphize their fursonas (which means to give them human attributes). If you were really a "furry" and loved animals, wouldn't you want to be more like an animal than a human? If people draw their fursonas standing on two legs wearing clothes and smiling with human teeth, I find that very telling that they are afraid to go full animal. I dont trust people who say one thing and then act a totally different way. Like you want to be a dog? Eat some dog food, then. Run on all fours. Bark. Get someone to pet you. If all you do to be a furry is dress up and still act human, you're not a fucking furry
yo new copypasta just dropped
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lucent-nargacuga · 19 days
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I'm a huge asshole in general actually. I don't mean to be but I just am. I apologize for that but I cannot "learn from my mistakes" because I am literally too mentally ill to stop myself from repeating this cycle every half a year or so. (even on meds!) not that it's an excuse, of course, but unfortunately this is who I am.
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brittlebutch · 6 months
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Brian isn't oblivious. He knows that he's playing with fire, tempting fate, testing Tim — however it's phrased, Brian knows exactly what he's guilty of. Unfortunately for all of them, that's never been enough to keep Brian from doing anything.
--
word count: 3232
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furby-organist · 7 months
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// Alright, throwing this out there before I sleep: now that I've done with my exam and I may have access to my laptop soon, I'd like to get back into the swing of things and write with more people! Like this post (or reply) if you want me to make a mental note to check out your blog / reach out to you about RPing!
Also, for reference, since this seems to be a Hot Fandom Topic: I consider myself neither proship nor anti. My rules page is pretty up-to-date with who I will/won't interact with.
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grahamkennedy · 4 months
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RIP Graham Kennedy you would've hated emails
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bunnyboy-juice · 1 year
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a lot of yall use the word "accountability" to mean "shut up, disappear, never speak again, shunned forever" and it SHOWS
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blueprint-han · 1 year
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did i make a mistake?
#sigh dawnie crush issues in the tags#so yeah fair warning#...........................................................................................................................................#idk man I just. i feel like instead of getting closer weve grown more distant ever since he asked me out and its killing me man#i dont wanna be hurt. im so fragile rn and just starting to heal from the years of trauma i faced in my family. when i try to talk#about any issue i have to him he just. ignores the text#or gives me a very dry response which hey. im not trying to say u should listen to my issues all the time. i get that some people dont want#to. but i would just much rather have someone tell me that directly yk? just a hey i dont do well with rants. but the thing is he said hes#fine with them. but then when i get nothing to address it i just. i feel hurt. like... ive started to wonder if hes just keeping the#relation for namesake at this point but ik that isnt true. weve only been dating 2 weeks or so i shouldnt judge so soon. but man its hard#to not overthink ive always been conditioned to do that. ive always been super excited when he plans a date (which he doesnt even call#a date) but when i try to plan smth its always that he has some other plan to attend to which again i get it im not the jealous date who#asks her s/o to be for her every waking moment but yk it does hurt and i feel instead of just letting it bottle up its better to admit it.#i tried to ask him to get cotton candy once and he said wed go the next day and then he forgot. never asked me a time or anything. i didnt#think of it much cuz hed gone to meet a friend outside the city and he mustve been tired. yesterday i asked him again and he said he was#again going outside the city to meet his 12th grader friend. man am i jealous of that girl who gets to spend more time with the guy#who asked me out than ive collectively spent with him#and no i dont mean this in a toxic way like “oh hes meeting other girls he shouldnt do that” i just. man i pictured so much out of my first#relationship. and i got nothing. not one thing out of it. i guess it makes sense cuz my love language is mostly physical touch and u cant#really do that in a campus in India. and its also wrong of me to hold him to such high standards of a perfect relationship when the guy#himself has been in one for the first time (i assume?) but like i said id rather not try to hide my emotions and express them out openly.#theres still so much more about this that i feel wrong but the thing is its confusing cuz i feel like the two years of torture in my house#has made it so that the trauma from never hearing i love you wnd words of affirmation from my parents has been reflecting off this place.#its wrong of me to do this but i expected everything that i couldnt recieve to be fulfilled in a relationship and i now realise how stupid#i was yk? cuz its wrong of me to put such harsh expectations on him like that. i feel like such a shallow person for getting depressed over#a relationship that has just been going for 1 week#theres also the thing where he generally seemed more excited to talk to me before? and now i just get the dryest responses ever out of#which no conversation can be built. and again im not expecting him to be online and respond immediately but a thoughtful response goes a#long way. again ik im being so harsh on him cuz its his first time too and he must be facing the same awkwardness im facing but jesus. i#ok my tags are over im continuing in a reblog
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ch40tic-st4rg4z3r · 7 months
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Inside of you there are two wolves...
Its a very serious medical condition. We are going to have to perform surgery. Hold still.
Matt...
Matt I'm sorry for not answering this immediately
But I'm running out of time ... /j
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simpjaes · 4 months
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NIGHT-SHIFT (p.sh)
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Sunghoon, a keen and professional man between the hours of 8 AM to 5 PM. ServiceKing, a faceless and proud man between the hours of 9 PM to 12 AM. Sunghoon’s secret night-life has nothing to do with the faces he sees day after day...until it does. or the one where you pay for a one on one call with a faceless cam guy you’ve been watching for a little while, and the next day your boss is avoiding you like the plague. 
minors dni 
PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader  
WORDCOUNT― 4.5k
WARNINGS―  dub-con since reader doesn’t know it’s him. 
CONTENT― office setting, sunghoon is a service top/soft-dom/whatever his clients need lol
 NOTE ― this was supposed to be a drabble, but i just....it needed a little more plot sorry. it's not very good, like fr this is not up to par with what I wanted... but i wrote it so im gonna post it.
nsfw tags under cut
nsfw tags― dubious consent, cam sex/virtual sex, dirty talk, masturbation instructions, umm…finger fucking, jerking off, fantasies, role-play type stuff
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
What are the chances? Honestly, what are the fucking chances?
Sunghoon sits up quickly from his relaxed position upon hearing a voice far too familiar on the other end of this call. He’s lucky he doesn’t have his camera on just yet, you’d have seen the embarrassing reaction to…well…hearing you of all people.
He knows the world can be small sometimes, but this is too small for comfort as he hears your muttered voice through the microphone again.
“So, what am I supposed to do?” You say. 
“Ah, uh–” Sunghoon pauses. There’s no way it’s actually you. Can you not recognize his voice too? “What type of call did you request again?” 
“Full service.” You remind him. 
Oh. You’re into this kind of thing? That pretty, well-mannered employee of his? The one who sips coffee quietly at her desk while actually responding to her emails? The one who never shows up to co-ed parties? The one who always dresses appropriately and addresses him in a timid way?
You…just paid a cam-boy to get you off in full? Not just any cam-boy either, you paid him?
God, his cheeks are so heated at the arousing thought. Never once has he ever imagined you in any scenario that doesn’t involve excel spreadsheets and finances. Arguably, you’ve probably never thought of him all spread out fucking his fist either but…you’ve blatantly seen him do it already.
He wonders how long you’ve been seeing this part of him, how long you’ve been getting yourself off all alone while he puts on a show for hundreds, and sometimes, thousands of people. 
As detrimental as this is, it’s his job to do this. You paid him to do it, just like how he pays you to do your job. He can’t be letting this hold him back. No, in fact, he needs to get this hour long session over with as quickly as fucking possible. 
“Right,” Sunghoon lends a chuckle, nervous sounding on his end but to you it just sounds cheeky. “Can I get your name, babe?” 
You’re quiet at first, never having done this before and absolutely not wanting this random horny guy to know who you are. Honestly, you already requested that only he turns his camera on during this call as well. As if you’d give out your real name. You give him a name that rhymes with your own instead, and there’s another chuckle after. 
He knows you’re lying. Out of all the employees that are under him, you’re the one he has to correspond with the most. After all, you’ve been up for the promotion to being his assistant for the past three months. He knows that isn’t your name. 
 Smart girl, just like he knew you were. 
“Is that so?” He tilts his head at his blank screen in amusement, watching the microphones light up with each breath. “Alright, and you’ll do everything I say, yes?” 
You nod to no one, realizing he can’t see you and instead giving him a hum and gentle words of “of course.”
His image flashes across your screen just moments later. The same as his usual streams. Face out of frame, hand strong and willing, his cock out and on display– only half hard. 
“Listen to me very carefully,” Sunghoon calls out now, as if to show you that it’s time to begin, your almost-name falling from his lips shortly after. “Don’t hold your breath, you paid good money for this, and I want to hear you.”
Oh man, this is embarrassing for you to be doing this. But truly, anything at this point is better than another night all alone. 
And he does hear you. Relishing in that voice he hears day to day reciting memos and budgets, only this time, you’re calling out pleasurable reactions to how he tells you to fuck yourself. 
He’s good at it too. You can’t help but listen to every word, touching and massaging when he instructs you to, stopping just short of orgasm for him to ask, “That feels good, doesn’t it? Wish you had me doing it for you, isn’t that right?” 
Always using the fake name. Giving you full-service by the end of the call. 
Safe to say, you’re feeling refreshed by the next morning as you ready yourself for work, wanting very much to book the infamous ServiceKing again. 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Fuck, he can’t even look at you. Not after the way he got off last night. 
Not after hearing you moan out the way you did while he simultaneously imagined you all spread out on his desk for him. Not after hearing the fucking wet between your legs as you frantically tried to cum when he told you to. 
Not after you did cum for him. 
“Mr. Park–” You chime through his door, not quite noticing the way he stiffens in his seat. 
God, if you had called him that last night…
“Hm?” He composes himself by acting bored and uninterested in whatever papers you have held tightly against your chest. “What is it?”
“I got the statements back from our parent company, I think–”
“Great. Just set them down on my desk.” He cuts you off, patting his desk before hoping you get the fuck out of his office before he ends up breaking office rule number one.
What is office rule number one, you might ask? Never fuck a co-worker. What’s worse is that you’re not his fucking co worker. You’re his employee.
You raise a brow at his demeanor this morning. The usual not-so-up-tight Sunghoon appearing far too distracted today compared to usual. Most mornings, he’ll at least give you a smile and a “thank you.” 
“Mr. Park, is there anything I can get for you?” You ask with concern in your voice.
Sunghoon pauses every thought in his head as he looks at you. Narrowing his eyes and wondering if maybe he’s just overreacting. Maybe he's mistaken and that girl from last night isn’t you at all. After all, there’s plenty of people with the same pitch in their voice. She didn’t even turn on her camera, and she gave him a different name anyway. 
Maybe he just wishes it was you. 
“No, I’m fine–” He says, mistakenly calling out the fake name rather than your actual name. 
You miss the way his eyes widen for a split second before correcting himself to your real name. 
“Ah, my apologies. Got a little tongue tied.” 
You stand there in shock. No way in hell he just called you by the name you spoofed to a cam-boy last night. Coincidences can be so weird, and being called that hits you a little too close to home. 
It feels awkward in the room now and both of you play it off as a genuine mistake. Though, to you, it has to be a genuine tongue-tied version of your name. Sunghoon couldn’t possibly know about that. Besides, he appears to be more tired than usual anyway, so…you choose to believe it’s a crazy coincidence. 
You give him a nervous chuckle as you wave yourself off and out of the room with a small “It’s okay, you know where I am if you need anything.”
What he needs is to watch his fucking mouth. What he needs is to stop thinking about how you just reacted to being called that. What he needs is to pretend that none of this is happening and do his goddamn work. 
And he tries. He really does. Unfortunately, his eyes go from blurs of numbers and words on spreadsheets to the window of his office. Just outside of it. You.
How is he supposed to focus after kind of, accidentally, practically fucking you? Sure, he never touched you but…it really was you. The way you reacted to that name was so telling, and he can’t help but actually check you out now. 
You, with that body. You got off to him, with those legs of your spread out while staring into a screen. All alone, listening to his voice, moaning for him…and now you’re just sitting there in your business casual outfit like he’s not unintentionally getting hard. 
So, he avoids you. At all fucking costs, he avoids you. 
You get up from your desk? So does he, making sure that if you start coming his way, he’s walking out and in the opposite direction. You send him an email? Out of office, despite clearly sitting at his desk. You call his phone to ask a question? He forwards you to his current assistant. 
And this happens for days. To the point you know that promotion is slipping from your fingers. 
Naturally, you’re frustrated with the office-dynamic. After all, you’ve heard rumors of picking favorites. You thought you were one of them, but it appears that Sunghoon may just decide to try and beg his current assistant to stay with bribes of double pay. 
You’re more frustrated as the days go by. Leaving work yet again with no good-byes from the boss who used to show appreciation for how hard you worked. He’s colder than usual, he’s stiffer than usual, he’s– a fucking asshole these days.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Ping! 
Sunghoon stares at his secret email in disbelief. 
NEW REQUEST FROM: [your email/username]
$500 PENDING. 
FULL SERVICE.
Requester note: work has been hard lately, will you help me de-stress for a little while? 
[ACCEPT REQUEST]   [DECLINE REQUEST]
Sunghoon hovers over the decline button for a solid thirty seconds as he burns a hole through his screen. Work has been hard for you lately, huh? Has it now? Try being him. 
He shifts his mouse to the accept button, wondering if he even needs that extra five hundred dollars. Those funds just to suffer more at work? Just to suddenly have the need randomly throughout his day to make you moan for him? Just to have the sounds of your pretty voice echoing in his head more and more the longer he ignores you? 
His finger clicks, hitting the accept button as he lets out an exasperated sigh. 
Why did he just do that?
Wait. 
Maybe this will help him get through the work weeks. Fucking you through words alone in secret, never telling you who he is, always letting you use him even if it’s just through audio and visual stimulation. 
After all, if you found out who ServiceKing is, you very well may quit. Hell, you might get him fired. Fuck.
This is dangerous. 
Yet, he feels the excitement in his gut before it even hits his cock as the clock ticks. He gets to hear you again soon, you get to watch him cum again soon, he–oh, he’s so turned on right now just thinking about it.
And the time comes too slowly for his liking. He feels as if he’s been edged by the time the two of you enter the call and he’s immediately turning his camera on. 
“Ah, look who it is,” Sunghoon starts, already positioning himself with a raging hard cock on the screen. “Had me wondering if you’d come back to me.”
You don’t know why your cheeks heat up, but the feeling in your gut is miles better than the frustration and anxiety that you felt throughout the day. 
“I was wondering the same thing,” You speak into the mic meekly, hiding your face despite knowing he can’t see it. “I just need to get my mind off of stuff for a little while.” 
“Oh yeah?” Sunghoon chuckles into the mic, his face perfectly hidden. “Wanna give me some context? Maybe I can use some of the information for–”
“God.” You immediately start, shutting the man up on the other side of the screen in an accidental frustration-dump. This is not what you paid him for, but you still appreciate the space to release your brain before, well, your cum. “My fucking boss.”
Sunghoon’s ears perk up, lazily stroking himself as you continue with a frantic voice. 
“I swear he just flipped on me. I thought I was doing so good, I thought I was gonna get that new position, but now he’s just ignoring me and treating me like some temp or something.” 
Sunghoon hums lowly, listening intently to the way you bring him into conversation to a man that…unfortunately, is that very same boss.
“Hmm, that’s interesting.” Sunghoon continues palming himself as he soothes you through your frustrations. “Your boss isn’t praising you.” 
You pause, feeling a ping in your gut. 
“If I were him, I’d praise you every day–” Sunghoon softens his voice. “Every night.”
“Oh…” You listen to his words, feeling your frustration melt out of you in an instant as you now focus on the way his cock twitches through the screen. 
“Wouldn’t let you go a second without thinking of how good I am to you.” He continues, both hyping himself and degrading his day-time self. “If I were your boss–”
You interrupt his words with a very quiet groan, he fucking heard it.
“Mm, you like that?” He smiles to himself, gripping the base of his cock and thrusting up to show the full size to you. “The thought of your boss liking you a little too much?”
You hum. Not that you’ve ever thought about it too deeply, but now that he’s said it, praising you, putting down your actual boss, telling you what he’d do if he were him? 
You guess, for tonight anyway, you’re into it. 
“What’s his name, babe?” Sunghoon asks, wondering if you’ll actually out his name to a stranger. 
“Park Sunghoon.” You expose him instantly, full name and all, even with a bit of bite in your voice. 
Damn.
“Oh, yeah?” Sunghoon draws back, jerking his hand up once. “I’d fuck you better than Park Sunghoon.” 
You smile at the thought, imagining yourself with more power than Sunghoon has. Like you’re his boss, you’re the one dangling a promotion just out of reach before giving it to someone else. 
“See this?” The man on the screen grunts out to you, fucking tight thrusts into his fist. “Watch me, baby, get a good look.”
And you do watch. Intensely, you stare at his big cock, the head of it darkened and leaking with each pass of his hand. You’re not even touching yourself at this point, but it’s like you can feel the force of it.
“Now, I need you to open those legs for me.” He instructs you. 
You do as he says much like before, letting your legs fall open but not yet letting yourself touch. You still sigh at the movement, your panties alone shifting were enough to make you want to hump your hips up. 
“Now, turn on your camera.”
Silence. Your ears ring momentarily at the words as you immediately close your legs.
“What?” You ask in a higher-pitched tone than usual. “I requested for no c-”
“No.” Sunghoon mutters, shifting his position to lean towards the microphone and whispering now. “You do as I say.” 
He hears you huff at his words, but he hears the shifting around on your end. 
“I want to see that pussy open for me.” He continues in that same low-rumbled voice. “I want to see what Park Sunghoon is missing out on.”
You don’t know what it is about this situation that turns your discomfort into pure, rushing arousal. Never in your life have you ever considered fucking yourself on camera, especially after paying someone else to do it for you, yet– 
“Do I have to show you my face?” You ask quietly, already trying to find a lower-face-mask just to be safe in case you lose your composure and accidentally reveal yourself. 
“No,” Sunghoon assures you through a deep breath. “I already told you what I want to see.”
More silence save for the shuffling he still hears on your end. 
“Open your legs and turn it on.” He encourages you now, keeping his hand still on himself as he waits to see if you’ll actually do it.
And…
Oh fuck.
“There she is.” Sunghoon hums, trying to keep his composure at the way you give him access. Honestly, he didn’t think you would, but you do, and all he can do is lay himself back again, staring straight at the image of you. 
Your face is out of frame much like he is but this is the first time he’s ever seen you with so little clothing on. No bra, thin tank top, no shorts or pants, just panties. It takes everything in him not to moan out at the image. 
After all, it’s confirmed to be you. 
Fuck, that’s you right there. 
“Already so wet too?” Sunghoon groans now, focusing on that spot between your legs, probably so slippery and warm. 
You’re very shy though, not moving much better yet speaking as this faceless man takes in your image. You feel awkward, but still turned on despite squeezing your legs together and hiding that spot from him. 
“Oh, baby–” Sunghoon coos out in a way that makes it seem as though he was endeared by that. “That’s not going to work.”
You’re more focused on your embarrassment than you are on the way his cock leaks and pours pre-cum at the image he’s witnessing. 
“How am I supposed to show you how much better I’d take care of you?” He continues, reverting back to the same role play from before. “I bet that boss of yours wouldn’t want to bury his tongue in you like I would.”
Your legs fall open at the words, and he can see the way you thrust up just slightly. 
“That’s it, you need someone to touch you, don’t you?” He continues, watching you intensely. “Need someone to lick that pretty pussy?”
You nod, once again forgetting that he can’t see you do it before you finally speak.
“Please.”
His moan after hearing you seems far more intense than the first time you did this with him. In fact, he appears entirely focused on you. Role playing in some way but somehow acting more real than last time too. 
“You deserve some love for all that hard work.” He says to you, encouraging you to keep talking for him. “Play with yourself, go on. You need it.”
You follow his instructions on instinct, as if your body truly does need the release. 
“Feel it– not too hard, just graze over your panties.”
Ah, still you listen, holding your breath at each feather-light touch you give to yourself per his request. 
And he watches. Hyper-focused on the way that darkened spot on your panties grows bigger and bigger. So wet for him doing exactly what he wishes he could do for you come tomorrow morning. 
“Your other hand babe, slowly, lift your shirt and–”
He doesn’t even have to keep instructing you. You do exactly as he wanted, lifting your shirt gently before playing with your own nipples, still lightly grazing your fingers over your swollen clit that’s restricted by your panties. 
You moan quietly at the feeling, wishing so much that it doesn’t have to be your hands doing this. 
“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Sunghoon hums, now working his palm against his own length, gentle, barely grazing it. “Now, look at me.”
You draw your eyes forward, the image of him already arousing from before, but now? Why is he so much hotter now? As if the screen is nothing but a window into his bedroom. 
“You see how hard I am right now?” You can hear the smile in his voice as you continue to work yourself up to near-sensitivity. “Never been this hard for anyone else.”
Oh, that’s bullshit. He does this as a job. He’s just sweet talking to you for sure. 
“Been thinking about you since the first time you booked me.” He continues, keeping the touches light and making sure you don’t press on yourself too hard either. “Was hard all week for you.”
Okay, yeah, maybe you are a little too into praise. Lie or not, it’s exactly what you need to hear right now. 
“You're gonna be just as good for me tonight too?” Sunghoon hums, tightening his grip. “You’re going to push your panties to the side and show me that you missed me too, right?��� 
Yes. The light touching has been nothing but torture at this point, wanting so badly to be told to do more. For yourself, for him. 
You barely recognize how your embarrassment leaves your body when you stretch your panties to the side, letting him see how they stuck to you only to unfold in a glistening mess for him. 
“Messy, messy, messy.” Sunghoon moans, struggling so hard by now not to fuck his fist straight to orgasm. But no, he can’t ruin this moment. 
That’s your pussy, looking so wet and tight, so needy. 
“Gently still, open up for me.” Sunghoon groans lowly, watching so closely the way you spread open your lips for him, the hole pulsing and dribbling so much slick. 
Never in his life has he ever wanted to bury his tongue into someone this badly. Goddamn, he’s nearly obsessed with you at this moment. He loses composure.
“Fuck–” He seethes, feeling his cock twitch wildly against his hand. “I want you so bad.”
Those words feel more real to you than anything else. Virtual sex is one thing but to have a man blatantly moan those words to you as if he means them? As if he has never let it slip for any of his other scheduled calls?
“What’s the name of your boss again?” Sunghoon asks, pretending as if he forgot, just to hear you say it. 
He notes the way your pussy clenches through his words too, as if he can see the confusion not through your expression, but through your arousal alone. Asking you that turned you off.
“What’s his name, baby?” Sunghoon presses, offering an excuse. “I wanna know who it is that gave me this tonight.”
Alluding to the fact that the only reason you’re paying him is because your boss made you feel like you need release in some way. 
“Park-” You start, not wanting to deny his demands. “Sunghoon.”
“Ah, yeah.” Sunghoon holds his breath, closing his eyes briefly just to let that breathy voice sit in his mind before focusing back on you. “Two fingers babe, slide them in.”
God, you listen just as well as you do at work. He should have given you that promotion the day he saw your application. Even without seeing you do as you're told in this situation, he already knew you were going to be getting that interview next week.
He listens to the way your cunt swallows up your fingers, so wet and needy. Swollen around the two digits as you slide them in with a breathy sigh. 
“Spread your fingers, open up.” 
You do, presenting your opened core to him without any shame at this point. Allowing him to look, wanting him to look.
“Now, say–” Sunghoon swallows around a lump in his throat. “Thank you Sunghoon.”
Your pussy pulses around your fingers, recoiling again at the name. 
“Say, Thank you Sunghoon, for all of this stress.” 
He continues, trying to encourage, adding another lie of an excuse just to get you to break. 
“Because, if it weren't for him, I wouldn’t be needing to take care of you like this, now would I?”
In your horny brain, it makes sense.
“Thank you, Sunghoon.” You moan, plunging your fingers into yourself without being told to do so, moaning out for the faceless man on the screen at your break in composure. 
And, well, Sunghoon himself is on fire. After all, you’ve only ever referred to him as Mr.Park, and hearing you practically moan his name in such an intimate way? It does nothing to keep him from spiraling into an even more selfish mindset. 
“Again.” He instructs you, watching the way your legs shake through saying his name. 
“Thank you Sunghoon.” You continue, as if the words are natural despite feeling intense irritation for the man. “Thank you.”
And, well, that very name you’re moaning is now also moaning. That little fake name you gave to him falls from his lips after you say it each time, fucking into his fist and hoping you’re watching, nearly unable to ask you to stick another finger into yourself.
Not needing to ask at all, apparently, because you do it yourself. You even bump your clit up against your wrist too. 
Shit. 
He needs you.
“Thank him for what?” Sunghoon starts to ask, feeling an orgasm approach far too quickly. 
“For making me come to you!” You answer him as if you’re frustrated, hips bouncing up against your hand just to dig your fingers in deeper. 
“What else?” He asks now, forgetting what it is he should not be doing. 
“Hmm?” You answer in a drawn-out moan.
“Thank him for what else?” He repeats first, only to follow up with his own answer. “For giving you a reason to cum.”
“Yes!” You groan, now grinding your hips up and against your palm without relaxing back against the bed. Intentionally chasing as your eyes remain on him, watching him pull and tug so roughly. 
“So fucking pretty” Sunghoon praises as he snaps his hips in time with his moving palm, eyes so tuned into you that– “Fuck–” He moans your name. “So pretty.”
And he didn’t realize it. Half expecting you to moan back for him, he’s still moaning as he watches you halt what you’re doing and cover yourself entirely.
“What did you just call me?” You ask in an out of breath voice. 
Sunghoon repeats your fake name to you, feeling the energy shift in an instant.
“No. You just called me–” You repeat your real name to him. 
“Ah, sorry babe, must’ve gotten tongue tied.”
There’s a rush of anxiety within you as you stare at the screen. There’s….no fucking way. 
Given, you’ve never seen him outside of a suit. The voice you hear doesn’t click in your head as Sunghoon’s either, considering he’s never a man of very many words. 
Instantly, you’re covering your camera with your hand, watching how the man on the screen spreads his legs out and drops his cock. Like he’s waiting, like he’s listening, wondering. Are you making a fool of yourself right now?
Are you misreading? 
He seems calm, and if it really is Sunghoon…surely he’d be disconnecting right now, right?
Why would he even be fucking himself on camera anyway? The guy makes bank! You’re the one who sees his paychecks, after all. Still, there’s a twisting in your gut as you ignore the way you still drip against your sheets. 
Very quietly, just to see, you work up the courage.
“Mr.Park?”
It’s silent for a few seconds as the man on the screen shifts, a blur of movement forcing you into a state of motion-sickness. 
You almost thought he was going to chuckle at you and ask if you were thinking about your boss rather than him. You almost thought he would use that to his advantage. 
You almost thought you were wrong, but– he disconnects. 
A few moments later, you receive an email with a refund of your five hundred dollars. 
And two hours later? Lying in your bed with anxiety in your gut, you get a text from none other than Park Sunghoon.
Mr.Park: Can we talk?
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
― part two here!
3K notes · View notes
caparrucia · 2 years
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Full offense and pun fully intended, but I genuinely think the very existence of "dead dove, do not eat" was a fucking canary in the mines, and no one really paid attention.
Because the tag itself was created as a response to a fandom-wide tendency to disregard warnings and assume tagging was exaggerated. And then the same fucking idiots reading those tags describing things they found upsetting or disturbing or just not to their taste would STILL click into the stories and give the writer's grief about it.
And as a response writers began using the tag to signal "no, really, I MEAN the tags!"
But like.
If you really think about it, that's a solution to a different problem. The solution to "I know you tagged your story appropriately but I chose to disregard the tags and warnings by reading it anyway, even though I knew it would upset me, so now I'm upset and making it your problem" is frankly a block, a ban and wide-spread blacklisting. But fandom as a whole is fucking awful at handling bad faith, insidious arguments that appeal to community inclusion and weaponize the fact most people participating in fandom want to share the space with others, as opposed to hurting people.
So instead of upfront ridiculing this kind of maladaptive attempt to foster one's own emotional self-regulation onto random strangers on the internet, fandom compromised and came up with a redundant tag in a good faith attempt to address an imaginary nuance.
There is no nuance to this.
A writer's job is to tag their work correctly. It's not to tag it exhaustively. It's not even to tag it extensively. A writer's sole obligation, as far as AO3 and arguably fandom spaces are concerned, is to make damn sure that the tags they put on their story actually match whatever is going on in that story.
That's it.
That's all.
"But what if I don't want to read X?" Well, you don't read fic that's tagged X.
"But what if I read something that wasn't tagged X?" Well, that's very unfortunate for you, but if it is genuinely that upsetting, you have a responsibility to yourself to only browse things explicitly tagged to not include X.
"But that's not a lot of fic!" Hi, you must be new here, yes, welcome to fandom. Most of our spaces are built explicitly as a reaction to There's Not Enough Of The Thing I Want, both in canon and fandom.
"But there are things on the internet that I don't like!" Yeah, and they are also out there, offline. And, here's the thing, things existing even though we personally dislike or even hate or even flat out find offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable existing is the price we pay to secure our right to exist as individuals and creators, regardless of who finds US personally unpleasant, hateful or flat out offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable.
"But what about [illegal thing]?!" So the thing itself is illegal, because the thing itself has been deemed harmful. But your goddamn cop-poisoned authoritarian little heart needs to learn that sometimes things are illegal that aren't harmful, and defaulting to "but illegal!" is a surefire way to end up on the wrong side of the fascism pop quiz. You're not a figure of authority and the more you demand to control and exercise authority by command, rather than leadership, the less impressive you seem. You know how you make actual, genuine change in a community? You center harm and argue in good faith to find accommodations and spread awareness of real, actual problems.
But let's play your game. Let's pretend we're all brainwashed cop-abiding little cogs that do not own a single working brain cell to exercise critical thinking with. 99% of the time, when you cry about any given thing "being illegal!!!" you're correct only so far as the THING itself being illegal. The act or object is illegal. Depiction of it is not. You know why, dipshit? Because if depiction of the thing were illegal, you wouldn't be able to talk about it. You wouldn't be able to educate about it. You wouldn't be able to reexamine and discuss and understand the thing, how and why and where it happens and how to prevent it. And yeah, depiction being legal opens the door for people to make depictions that are in bad taste or probably not appropriate. Sure. But that's the price we pay, creating tools to demystify some of the most horrific things in the world and support the people who've survived them. The net good of those tools existing outweighs the harm of people misusing them.
"You're defending the indefensible!" No, you're clumsily stumbling into a conversation that's been going on for centuries, with your elementary school understanding of morality and your bone-deep police state rot filtering your perception of reality, and insisting you figured it out and everyone else at the table is an idiot for not agreeing with you. Shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down and read a goddamn book.
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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months
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just like heaven
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in which flirty!reader finally confesses her feelings to a pining spencer reid after a night out. she's slightly buzzed. it's complicated.
fluff (some angst) warnings/tags: fem!reader, reader drinks alcohol, dirty jokes, so much flirting and banter, some arguing kinda, but spencer is such a gentleman, everyone gets flustered at least once, they really wanna kiss, happy ending a/n: gif :D I hope u like this! not bandages reader but like same vibes. like an AU for my AU
“Emily!”
You drawl the ee sound long, the same way you reach across the table and wiggle your fingers at her half-empty glass. Thin dark brows dart up beneath that glossy sweep of reddish-black hair. 
“Oh, wow. That’s unsettling. What?”
It’s been at least an hour since you had a drink of your own, but enough alcohol is still flowing through your veins so as to render her offensive comment inoffensive. You love Emily. You love the Tequila Sunrise sweating onto the sticky table in front of her which she’s not going to finish. 
“I think she wants your drink,” JJ assists, cheek balanced tipsily on a propped up fist. 
“Uh…”
Emily’s doe-sweet eyes flash uncertainly behind you. 
“I’m basically sober,” you insist, laying your head on your outstretched arm and letting your hair cascade as you bat your lashes, offering her your sweetest smile. “Please, Em?”
It does not go according to plan. She scoffs. 
“Are you flirting with me right now?”
“... Would that work?”
“Oh my god, just… cool it with the fuck-me eyes,” she laughs. “You can have the drink.”
You sit up, turning just barely over your shoulder to address Spencer. 
“See? Emily buys me drinks. Basically.”
She slides the drink toward you, with a subtle roll of her eyes that you choose to interpret as affectionate under the dim canned lighting. As you sit back, content and free drink in hand, her eyes slide to Reid in the seat next to you, brows arching. 
“Are you sure you can handle her all on your own?”
“Handle me?” You frown deeply as Emily gathers her purse and slides out of the booth, followed shortly thereafter by JJ. “I don’t need handling.”
“Then why do you have a handler?” JJ teases.
You slump against the worn vinyl, stirring what is mostly orange juice. 
“He most definitely is not my handler. He’s my science project.”
“I got it,” Spencer assures your friends, with his trademark flattened smile. You can’t help but watch him with a grin of your own, flipping the straw in the drink and nibbling on the end until it’s stained sparkly pink. Goodbyes are issued, and soon it’s just the two of you. Perhaps it’s a tipsy delusion, but you think he seems to relax slightly when you’re alone. His eyes are easy on you. “You know, you’re not actually decreasing the amount of germ transmission by using the other end of the straw.”
“Mm… pretty sure alcohol kills germs, Doctor.”
At that, you giggle. 
Doctor. 
Soon you’re covering your face and having a full-fledged laugh attack. 
“What?” Spencer asks. From between your fingers you can see that he’s smiling guardedly, brows furrowed in a way that reminds you he’s often worried about being the butt of a joke and not knowing it. “What’s funny?”
“Nothing,” you assure him quickly, gathering yourself. “I just… can’t believe you’re a doctor.”
“Why not? What’s so unbelievable about that?”
“You’re so young.”
And handsome. 
“I’m not that young. I’m older than you,” he defends. Only by a handful of years, but you know he’s defensive about his age after a lifetime of being told he looks young for—well, everything. 
“You’re… 32?”
That’s not right—you know as soon as you say it.
“Thirty three.” He very politely captures a hand—your hand—that had at some point ended up a little too close to his eye. You’re not sure what you planned to do once it got there—you don’t recall moving it at all. 
“Sorry.” You take your hand back, choosing to instead fiddle with a button on his coat ponderously. “33 is a good age.”
“Yeah?” Spencer laughs, angling his head as if to regard you from a new angle. It warms you all over. Burns in some places, like a shot of liquor down your throat. Makes you just as dizzy, too. “You have a lot of experience being thirty three?”
“No, I just…” your cheeks heat and you wrestle with a timid smile, averting your gaze and dropping your hand for fear his grin this close up might actually kill you. “I like 33 year old you.”
“So… you didn’t like me when I was thirty two?”
“Stop,” you beg, a self-effacing laugh into the cup of your palm. “I can’t banter. I’m not at peak performance.”
The truth of it hits you, and you sigh, folding your arms on the table and resting your cloudy head. Only then, from this new perspective, do you allow yourself to fully admire Spencer Reid. He is smiling at you, and your heart does skip a beat like you’ve got some school girl crush. These days he wears his hair falling over his face, messy on purpose, and always smells so nice. You wonder when he started caring about that stuff. You want to see what products are in his shower, and learn why he chose that cologne, or how he decides to pair his socks. He probably has some sort of algorithm. 
“Spencer,” you begin, the serious quality of your voice diminished by the smush of your cheek against your arm. Still, he tries to respect your tone, zipping the smile and answering with a playfully twitching brow. 
“Hm?”
You want to push the hair out of his face. Why is he looking down at you like that? Like he likes you?
“You’re a very good handler.”
His eyes narrow as he considers this, but the glimmer in them could still spark a forest fire. You’re probably grinning like an idiot. 
“Oh, I couldn’t handle you. You know this.”
You hum thoughtfully. 
“I bet you could. Wanna try?”
Spencer shakes his head, huffing a laugh through his nose. To his credit, your bold-face innuendos don’t always send him into a tailspin these days. 
Just sometimes. 
“You need a ride home, don’t you?”
You sit back up, stretching your arms out. 
“You don’t have to. I could get a cab.”
“I know,” he assures you, still a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. Why. Is. He. Looking. At. You. Like. That?
“Will you let me drive?”
“I would. But, you know, my affairs aren’t in order.”
You roll your eyes as he gets out of the booth and offers you a hand. 
“I’m not that drunk.”
Spencer just wiggles his fingers. 
“If you can recite the alphabet in reverse you can drive my car.”
You roll your eyes again. Obviously he’s fucking with you, because 1. He’d never let you drive even the slightest bit inebriated, and 2. He knows you can’t say your ABC’s backward when you’re dead sober. 
The truth is you’re more buzzed than anything. You could get up and walk fine without any assistance, but he’s offering you his hand, so you take it. After you’re standing, you wonder how many excuses could you possibly dream up to get it back in yours. Should you pretend to fall?
No. Not quite worth your self respect. 
“You know…” you muse, reveling in the brief brush of him against your back as he holds open the door for you, “it’s a good thing you didn’t become, like… a medical doctor.”
Now walking side by side on the street, he glances over at you, a poorly veiled smile on his perfect face. Like a trap door brushed over with a few leaves. He wants you to see it.
“Why’s that?”
A breeze ruffles your hair. The brisk cold and the walk seem to be making things crisper already. You shrug, bunching your sleeves in your hands against the increasingly frigid night. The skirt and tights you’d chosen were perfect for a stuffy dive bar. Not so much for an early DC spring. 
“Nobody wants a hot doctor.”
He looks down at the sidewalk, hands pocketed, but the curve of his lips doesn’t lessen.  
“Hm. You’re drunker than I thought.”
“What? No! I’m—barely!” Again he laughs at you, and again you flush, looking down and counting the cracks in the pavement as you journey slowly under the bath of yellow street lights. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you called me hot.” He sounds almost delighted as he grins sheepishly around the final word. 
You snort. You’ve said worse things, more graphic things within the past few hours alone—but you suppose they’ve all been more like dirty jokes than compliments. 
“Yeah. You think you aren’t?”
Sandy locks fall side to side as he carefully measures a response. His cologne is warm—sort of smoky. It’s very nice. He doesn’t seem like he’d wear cologne. Have you already thought about his cologne tonight? Once was probably enough. 
“I just think sober you wouldn’t have said that.”
“But don’t you prefer it when I’m aggressively flirting with you? I mean, I know I do it sober too, but it's not as good, right?”
A silent stretch begins and shortly ends, and you don’t mind it. Right now, everything is a winding path through the woods. You’re willing to follow any fork off the trail if it means spending more time with him. 
“I guess I wasn’t aware that was what you were doing.”
“Oh, bullshit,” you laugh, and it echoes through the canyon of a nearby alley, “I’m not subtle, Reid.”
“I don’t know! You—for all I know that’s just how you are! I mean, what did Emily call them earlier, your—your fuck-me eyes?”
Like he does when he’s flustered, he gets shrill and stuttery. It’s nice to be reminded that he’s still a complete dork on the inside—and the outside, too, as pink stains his cheeks like watercolor. You smirk at him in your periphery, watching him against the darkened city backdrop. 
“You noticed those, huh?”
“No,” he denies forcefully, but his brow is pinched like he doesn’t quite believe himself, “I mean, yes, I notice when you look at other people like that, but that’s not what I would call them—I wouldn’t call them anything, I’d just call them your eyes, you know? Not that you always look like you’re soliciting… the implication isn’t there, it’s just—I notice when you flirt with other people! With Emily, and Derek, like, not even half an hour ago. You’re lucky Hotch wasn’t there. You’d probably have given him a heart attack.”
“I’m more concerned with yours, to be honest.”
“My heart is fine,” he laughs. “Worry about my dignity.”
“Hm. I was going for both. Guess I’d better try harder.”
You don’t notice you’ve come to a stop until you’re face to face in front of his vintage Volvo. Spencer is standing closer than usual, hands perpetually stuck in that nice wool coat. He’s all windswept and pretty, smiling crookedly and eyes sparkly with humor. A strand of hair sticks to your lip gloss, and you brush it away, tucking it behind your ear and squinting up at him against the chilly breeze. The flush is either from the nip in the air or your brazen flirting. 
“Or, you could go easy on me. I’m frail. Like a… sickly Victorian child.”
Again his brow knits and he smiles like he knows what he’s said is ridiculous. But his tone is gentler now. Softer. Invites you to fall in deeper and see what you might find. 
“And ruin all my fun? Toughen up, Reid.”
For a long moment, you don’t get a response—only his eyes, soft and thoughtful on you, before you’re distracted by the sweet bow of his lips. If he notices you’re staring, it doesn’t seem to bother him. 
But something evidently does, as when he next speaks, it’s troubled. Curiosity straining against a rope that says maybe it’s better if I don’t ask. 
“Do… do you actually flirt with me? When you’re sober, I mean.”
He expects to be ridiculed. In his most vulnerable moments, he’s still bracing for rejection—turning his cheek slightly so he’s ready for the stinging blow. It opens a fissure in your chest. You frown, and speak gently. 
“Yeah, Spence. More than anyone else. You really don’t notice?”
Sometimes his face is so expressive, in the pull of his brow and tightening of his eyes and the way he wets his lips. But he probably doesn’t know that. And he can’t seem to meet your eyes, instead choosing to study the leather of your heeled boots. Sounds of late-night traffic, of tires on wet asphalt buffer the pauses between sentences. 
“I notice… when you talk to Derek and Emily and JJ and Penelope the exact same way you talk to me. I didn’t think…”
Another gap in conversation, filled with the chatter of some group pouring out of a bar somewhere. You realize he’ll need some gentle prompting to bridge it. 
“You didn’t think what?”
When his eyes flash back up to meet yours, you have a feeling like he’s shutting the pipes off. 
“It’s—uh—” he clears his throat— “it’s not important, we can—we’ll talk about it a different time. We should—”
“Wait.”
He’d been turning away but snaps right back to look at you as if on command, wearing a brand new face that tells you he’d like to wipe the past minute or so completely away. 
“Yeah?”
“Spencer. I wanna know what you were going to say.”
“I told you. It’s nothing.”
“You didn’t tell me. You mumbled evasively and walked away. We were in the middle of something and I want to know what you were going to say. Please?”
“Well, you’re drunk,” he finally sighs, and it’s a bit sharp. Stinging. 
“I am not drunk,” you defend, and it feels true, with a bitter cold lashing at your cheek and blood heightened from the walk. “You know I’m not too drunk to have a coherent conversation. Why are you being weird?”
“Because I asked you to drop it! We can’t have this conversation right now, all right? I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Your stomach flips, and your breath comes a little heavier. Spencer is clearly frustrated with you. Maybe being on the wrong end of this mild vexation, and so suddenly, should make you feel guilty, or some kind of bad—but all you feel is a sort of buzz in the tips of your fingers and the thrum of your heart, something deeper than excitement pooling in your veins at having inspired this sort of passion. It means he feels something. Something for you. 
“I’m sorry,” he tries halfheartedly, unable or more likely unwilling to stay angry at you for very long, “you didn’t—”
“What conversation?”
It’s jarring how quickly this has spun on its head. The very air you’re breathing seems to have changed. The metropolitan soundscape is a rife undercurrent of tension and louder from all the words unsaid. 
Finally he swallows. 
“There’s no conversation. I’m—it was a poor choice of wording. I just meant we should get you home.”
Before he can make it to the driver’s side door, you’re calling out. 
“You think I don’t like you. And I just flirt with you ‘cause I flirt with everyone.”
Spencer stops, and turns to face you once more, sighing and head dropped to one side like you’re doing something incredibly inconsiderate. He’s never looked at you like that before, but you don’t let it shake you. 
“That’s what this is about, right?”
He says your name, but you don’t let him get further than that. 
“No, I think there is a conversation here, and saying I’m not sober enough to have it isn’t fair and you should have said something before and I think you should just say it now.”
You’re pushing his buttons with a heavy hand, though your own voice shakes. He’s feeling it too—you’ve never been so short with each other. His voice is raised. 
“What am I supposed to say?” 
It boils over. 
“That you like me!”
It rings. 
Then it’s silent. 
His face is mostly blank. A little sorrowful around his eyes. 
It’s cold, jumping into the deep end like this. 
“We can’t talk about this right now,” he finally says, glancing to the side as if to suggest a situation the size of the whole city. 
“Spencer, I—”
“It’s impossible to have a meaningful discussion until your judgement isn’t impaired, otherwise it’s—”
“I am telling you that I flirt with you because I really like you.”
“I—”
It appears you’ve truly thrown him for a loop.  For a moment his jaw works at nothing, a soliloquy of words go unspoken, and then he’s stuttering and fumbling for the right thing to say, looking everywhere but at you. 
“I can’t—that’s—regardless of whether or not it’s even true—”
“It is true.”
“Could you—stop?” He pleads. “You can’t tell me that. I mean, the power imbalance when you’ve been drinking and I haven’t—it’s—I mean, it's coercive. Because I brought it up, I asked an inappropriate question—or at least started to ask it, and you—not that it was your fault, I’m the responsible party in this instance, but if tomorrow you realize you never wanted to tell me—so I have to take that with a grain of salt. I’m just—I have to pretend I didn’t hear that, alright? And you can’t say it again.”
He’s ridiculous. You shift your weight onto one foot casually. 
“That’s not very nice. I just confessed to having a huge crush on you and you’re gonna leave me hanging?”
There is an undeniable sort of pleasure in the bright of his eyes, and you phrased it that way on purpose, just to see him preen and glow—also to see if you could make him trip all over himself some more. Right now, despite the liminal space your relationship may or may not be occupying, you’re teasing him like you always do. Like he’s a friend, because he is. Before anything else. 
He tries to glower, barely. 
“Were you listening to me at all?”
“It was hard with all the stammering. I thought you might pass out.”
“I might,” he grumbles, and the admission pleases you greatly. Your lips tug as you admire him for a moment—watch his defenses go down and his features ease into something more inviting. 
God, maybe you really had been too hard on him. Maybe he really didn’t expect that you would like him back. 
You’re struck with the need to reassure. 
A dampened clack emits from your shoe where the heel hits the ground as you step down off the curb. 
“You know… I do like you. A lot. I mean it. And I’m glad I told you, because... you like me too, right?”
He raises his brows, like don’t do anything stupid, as you approach unhurriedly. It’s good to see that you haven’t broken his spirit completely. 
Less than a foot away, you stop. Close enough to be in his space. Too far for him to have the grounds to step back. 
His eyes are careful on you, analytical as always, constantly predicting an infinite number of outcomes to any given scenario. That’s how he keeps his footing in the world. But he’s never very good at predicting you. And it helps that his razor sharp intellect is dulled, some, with affection. Attraction. 
It shows in his eyes. He’ll let you push boundaries he knows he shouldn’t. More so if you keep speaking to him this softly. Almost whispering.
“Tell me you like me, Spencer.”
Because he hasn’t yet. All the heavy lifting has been done for him, and that just won’t do. 
First, he opens his mouth, and you watch the internal debate, a million things he could say, spinning round in his eyes like pinwheels. Rules, and buts, and caveats.
In the end, he just clears his throat. Speaks in the same secretive tone. Low enough to be intimate.
“I like you.”
Such a simple thing has never made you feel so airy before in your life. You steal another glance at his lips.
“So it’s really not that complicated. We could probably just kiss.”
He tinges pink.
“We definitely can’t.”
“You also said we couldn’t talk about it, and yet…”
“Talking is different. As far as I’m concerned, nothing you say to me tonight is binding. Whatever just transpired happened completely off the record. We can… talk about it tomorrow, but right now, you and I are friends.”
You shrug.
“Friends can kiss.”
“No, they can’t,” he says definitively, though not without a healthy dose of sardonic self-awareness and a dark smile. His hand finds your waist, and it’s glancing, if anything a light push, but you’re delighted nonetheless. Almost as pleased as if he really had kissed you. “It’s cold. I’m ready to leave.”
You’ve pushed him enough for one night. And it is cold. So you shuffle around the car with quick steps to the passenger side door, hooking your fingers under the biting metal handle and waiting for him to unlock the vehicle. 
You’re shivering as your thighs press against leather upholstery, only the thinnest layer of synthetic material protecting your legs. Spencer is already starting the car, but the engine is too cold to bother turning the heat on yet. 
“I think it’s colder in here than outside. Look at my hand.” You hold it up for him, and it is discolored, waxy, as he mindlessly takes it between his own much warmer ones. “I thought alcohol was supposed to keep you warm. Didn’t that chef on the Titanic survive hours in the ocean because he was hammered?”
“That’s a myth. Not the chef—he did survive, but it was a complete anomaly. Alcohol causes vasodilation in the dermis layer of the skin, so you feel warmer, but it draws blood flow away from your internal organs and significantly raises your likelihood of developing hypothermia.”
Does he notice how he’s holding your hand? Carefully pressing his thumbs to the center of your palm and pushing up through your love and life lines, cupping the fingers, before sandwiching them between his own and generating friction the way a child furiously rolls a play-doh worm?
“I guess I’m really not that drunk, then.”
He’s not expecting it, and maybe he doesn’t know what to make of your exceptionally gentle tone at first. It was a mistake, you think, as he relinquishes his hold on your hand, and you curl it to retain the memory of his warmth. But then he tucks hair behind your ear, like he’s done once or twice before, and smiles in a way you don’t quite understand. 
“I know.”
You won’t push him. You won’t ask for anything else, and you won’t demand an explanation. Spencer is special. It can all wait, because you have something good with him already. Something important. Something like holding hands. 
It comes as a surprise when he leans across the console, and you lean in a trance to meet him, and another surprise when he gently redirects, pressing his lips to your cheek, close enough to match the corners of your mouths and nothing more. 
You’d let him do it a hundred times over, but he draws back after a fraction of a lingering second, and finds your hand to stroke the back of it, forgotten in your lap. 
“You said no kissing,” you murmur, as if in a dream. If you had the wherewithal to be embarrassed maybe you wouldn’t be ogling so much. 
“Compromise.”
If anything, you should be the cheek-kisser. But there will be time to feel slighted about that later. Time to amend. For now, you look ahead robotically. 
“Is there a rule against friendly hand-holding?”
“Probably,” he says.
But he lets you hold his hand in your lap the whole drive to your apartment, anyway. 
2K notes · View notes
sailorrhansol · 2 months
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Amnesia | c.sc (m)
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❀ 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: 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. 
❀ A/N: This was absolutely not what I originally imagined when I wrote this fic - it was supposed to be angsty and frustrating and a lot of back and forth and instead I wrote two fucking idiots who obviously like one another just being down bad. I don’t know how or why I got here, but here we are. Also - Jeongcheol coming out with billiards content after I posted the teaser for this is fucking sENDING me, thank you for making Pool Shark Seungcheol canon. 
❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.
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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.” 
-
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teamatsumu · 9 months
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one or the other. (itadori yuuji/ryomen sukuna x reader)
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summary: when yuuji might be too inexperienced to take care of you during your heat, sukuna steps in.
word count: 2050
warnings: a/b/o dynamics, alpha!yuuji, alpha!sukuna, omega!reader, fem!reader, smut, omegaverse jargon (heat, slick, knot, scent,mating), sukuna is an asshole, swearing
tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi
divider by @/cafekitsune
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Usually, having the affections of two Alphas would be a real confidence booster for an omega. Managing to not attract one, but two potential mates? How flattering. But you were not sure this logic applied to you since the two Alphas you had attracted lived in the same body.
And they were the polar opposites of each other.
Yuuji was properly courting you. He bought you a delicate (but likely expensive) pendant, with a beautiful silver charm on it. He held doors for you, treated you to food whenever he could, and took you out on many, many dates. He really worked for your affections. And that made your heart soar.
Then there was Sukuna, who usually only manifested as a mouth on Yuuji’s cheek, but despite his small presence, really made himself known by being as vulgar about you as physically possible.
“You’re gonna go out smelling like that? An Alpha two miles away could catch your scent.”
“You look delicious, Omega. I should bend you over and fuck you right here.”
“When’s your next heat? You need a partner?”
“Tch. Still unmated. I would change that immediately.”
Yuuji would smack a palm against his cheek, muffling the mouth and one single eye that peeked down at you, apologizing profusely about how disrespectful Sukuna was being. You would shrug it off, not feeling threatened by the curse. You firmly believed he was being so vulgar because there was little else he could do. After all, he couldn’t take over unless Yuuji relinquished control over him.
You let Yuuji court you for three months before finally inviting him to help you with your heat. Usually, you were used to getting through it alone. But you trusted him by now, and you knew he was a capable Alpha. He would get you through it.
What you didn’t anticipate was just how much you would need out of him.
“Fuck,” you moaned, head tilted up to the ceiling. The feeling of Yuuji’s cock carving into your desperate pussy was intoxicating to you. You couldn’t believe how big he was, thick and heavy, throbbing as he plunged into you over and over. He was groaning into your neck, tongue lapping at your scent gland and sending shivers down your spine. His hips were steady and going strong, but you needed more. Your body needed more.
“F-faster,” you managed to gasp out. You angled your hips, trying as hard as you could to make Yuuji hit that one spot. It was so close, you could feel it. Like an itch just waiting to be scratched. You spread your legs wider, nearly whining when that didn’t help. Slick gushed from your hole as if your pussy was coaxing him to go deeper, to hit you where it mattered.
“Y-Yuuji, more.” You finally whined, and the noise made him tense. No Alpha liked to hear a yearning Omega, especially not one that they were trying to help. He lifted his head from your neck, his pupils blown but trained on your face. Your teary eyes made the Alpha in him growl and pace. While he wanted to fuck you to tears, he could tell these were from frustration.
He sped up again, with renewed vigor, trying everything he could to make sure you got what you wanted.
“You’re not doing it right.”
The voice made his hips stutter, rhythm collapsing. Your panting breaths halted, eyes widening and trained on his cheek. Yuuji nearly groaned.
“Go away.” He gritted out. This was the worst time for a snarky curse to insert himself into the situation.
“He ain’t fucking you right, Omega.” Sukuna now addressed you. You eyed the mouth, watching as the little slit below Yuuji’s eye opened to show you a red iris, peering down at you. “He’s not angling his hips right. Not going all the way, right? That’s what you want? To really get the daylights fucked out of you?”
Yuuji cursed and reached a hand up to muffle him, but you grabbed his wrist, making him stop. Startled brown eyes met yours.
“Wha-”
Sukuna cackled. “She wants me. Don’t you, Omega? Tell him. Give me control and I’ll show him how to really fuck an Omega in heat.”
You bit your bottom lip, contemplating. Yuuji’s eyebrows shot up, staring down at you in shock.
“Are you serious?”
“Please,” you tried to justify it. “I just- it hurts. It hurts and I want more so badly.” You reached shaky hands up to run over Yuuji’s cheeks, avoiding the mouth that had now fallen silent once he saw that things were going his way.
“Alpha,” you called for him, and Yuuji shuddered. The Alpha in him growled, and he wanted to give in immediately. Anything for his omega. Sukuna spoke up again.
“You let me do this and I will give you back control as soon as I’m done fucking her. Deal?”
Yuuji wanted to berate him for his words, but he doubted it mattered. That’s exactly what Sukuna was gonna do anyway. And that’s what you wanted.
“How can I trust you to give me back control?” He thought in his mind, knowing the curse could hear him.
“A deal is a deal. I know to honor my word.”
“No loopholes?”
“No loopholes. All I want is her.”
Yuuji looked down at you, at the apprehension on your pretty face. The tears had dried, but Yuuji was reminded that being an Alpha wasn’t enough. He needed to be an experienced Alpha. He needed to learn.
And so he sunk into his mind.
You nearly gasped when thin, black lines started to carve themselves onto Yuuji’s face, his eyes blinking open to reveal deep red irises, and his tight mouth pulling up into a carnal grin. All down his body, the marks appeared, accentuating his muscles and drawing attention to his broad chest. You felt a thrill run through you when Sukuna ran his stare down your naked figure, down until his eyes were on your pussy.
He tsked, curling a finger and letting the knuckle graze over your slit. You gasped.
“Poor little Omega.” His tone was teasing, condescending. “You want a thick Alpha knot so bad. Fucking whore.”
You felt your body heat up at his words, feeling a line of wetness run down your pussy. He grinned at the sight.
“This is what you really wanted. No Omega in heat wants to be treated nice. You need to be put in your place. Dicked down so good you can’t move for days.”
Yuuji’s cock, which had slipped out of you, was now slowly hardening again, and Sukuna tapped in against your clit, making you jerk. You bit your lip, feeling your desire build again. You had no idea that you enjoyed this kind of dirty talk so much, and you think a lot of it had to do with your heat. Sukuna was right. You needed to have every part of your body rearranged under his rough hands.
He reached down to bite at your shoulder, making you moan. His hands wandered to your breasts, pinching a nipple until it was painful, making your back arch. His cock ran over your folds, parting them to run through the wet mess between them. He prodded at your entrance and before you could react, slammed in with one long stroke.
You gasped and arched into him, gripping tightly at his biceps. But Sukuna was having none of it, one hand reaching for your wrists and pinning them above your head. The restrain on your mobility sent a thrill running down your spine, and Sukuna seemed to notice, his grin so sleazy you nearly came on the spot.
“You gonna be a good bitch and let me use you?”
You clenched around him hard. “Yes, Alpha.”
Sukuna pulled back all the way, before thrusting back in and setting a truly brutal pace. You arched into him, crying out when his cock smacked into your giddy pussy over and over, going so deep it almost hit your cervix. Almost. Toeing the line between pain and pleasure had you screaming and crying.
Sukuna let out his first groan, appreciative and low, making you keen at just the thought that your pussy pleased him. Your senses were clouding, body temperature rising even more as your heat intensified. Your primal instincts were taking over, making you desire nothing more than to submit to the Alpha before you. Sukuna’s free hand hooked under your knee, pulling it up until it was nearly bent to your chest, and the angle shifted.
You came right then, hard and fast.
You cried and jerked, helpless under the tight grip of the Alpha. His large frame towered over you, his cock fucking down into your pussy with no signs of slowing.
“Look at that.” He groaned, watching you come down from your high. “Good Omega, fuck. Think you can do that again?”
You nodded vigorously, teary vision barely focusing on the grin on Sukuna’s face. His hand released your wrists, instead grabbing your other leg and pulling it up until he had you pinned in a mating press. You wailed at the change in angle, his thick cock throbbing inside your weeping pussy. You were so wet that your slick made filthy noises as he slid in and out of you, hitting every spot right as he ruined your body. With his arms pinning your legs tight against your body, one large hand wrapped around your neck, tilting your head to the side until your scent gland, swollen and needy, showed proudly right before his eyes.
He groaned again, hips stuttering a little at the sight, and his mouth watered. He pushed deeper into you, making you cry out, legs shaking so much that you were certain you were ready to pass out.
“You gimme one work orgasm and I’ll give you a fat knot. You want that, Omega?”
You nodded, nails digging into his back. “W-want it. Please. Alpha.”
Sukuna stared at your neck. “And if I mark you? Make you mine forever? You wanna be my good little bitch for the rest of your life?”
You felt yourself clench at the thought, orgasm building in you as Sukuna fucked you with no reservations.
“Yes, yes.” Your mind soared at the thought. “Make me yours. Wanna be yours s-so bad. Please.”
He cackled a bit, nosing at the gland. His hips frantically smacked against yours over and over, and you could feel the swell of his cock right at the base. He was getting ready to knot you. At the thought, another orgasm barrelled hard into you, your body drawn so tight you nearly cried.
“Take it, Omega. Be a good girl and take everything-”
He swelled more, the base catching almost painfully against your hole, before he expanded rapidly and pressed hard into you, shoving the knot deep inside your pussy before flooding you with ropes and ropes of white hot cum. Sukuna loudly groaned, biting down against your neck until his teeth broke the skin and the metallic taste of blood hit his tongue. You felt another, mind-numbing orgasm rip through your body, weeping and crying through it as you relished in the burn of your neck and the heavy feeling of his load inside you.
Through blurry eyes, you watched as the black marks on his body faded away, and then a gentle tongue lapped at the mark on your neck, soothing the sting of the vicious bite. His knot hadn’t settled, still pumping cum inside you. Strong arms wrapped around your torso before turning your joined bodies around, laying you on top of him as you waited for the knot to deflate, while being careful not to jostle you too much.
Yuuji’s warm brown eyes met yours and he gave you a dopey smile.
“You are so beautiful.” You flushed at the compliment and he ran a thumb over your fresh mark, making you shiver. “And you’re all mine.”
Your lips twitched up into a smile. Despite your heat clearing, you didn’t regret your decision to mate with him at all. Yuuji was the perfect gentleman, the perfect Alpha. And whatever he lacked, Sukuna made sure to cover for.
So really, you were an Omega who had two Alphas.
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