#꒰ •̫͡-•̫͡꒱ yun announcement | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kitten4sannie · 1 year ago

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for love of the game

pairing: pitcher! wooyoung x batter! reader (fem) x teammate! yunho

genres: college baseball au, enemies to fuckbuddies, best friends to fuckbuddies, smut

summary: jung wooyoung, a pitcher with a fearsome curveball, and your self-proclaimed enemy since the beginning of the playoffs, is beyond determined to show you that he is in fact, on top. Yunho, your close friend and reliable teammate, will do everything in his power to watch it all go down.

w.c: 5k (2k words of plot bc i can ✨ the rest is filth tho i promise <3)

warnings: tobacco/vape usage, nasty mean dom! wooyo, perverted subby puppyboy! yuyu, bratty bitch in the streets, subby slut in the sheets! reader, yuyu has a horsecock, implied brat taming, brief choking, mxm, one single slap and spank, cuckholding, pet names/name calling, praise/degradation, humiliation kink, dirty talk, exhibitionism/voyeurism, brief breath play, oral (giving/receiving), masturbation, yuyu sucks cock, thigh fucking, cum eating, deep-throating, spit kink, hair tugging, breeding kink (would it be a kitten4sannie fic without it? idt so 💅🏼), unprotected sex, creampies, dumbification

a/n: hey batter, batter~~ ughhh i’ve been itching to write this ever since they went to their first dodger game 🥺 i had an unusual amount of fun writing this as you’ll be able to tell eeheheheh (≧∀≦) anygaysss i hope you enjoy this hater x hater x nasty bsf fantasy ✨

song recs: siren by ateez - new girl by finneas - knock me out by miyavi - heaven and back by chase atlantic

“You ready for today’s game, Y/N?” Yunho, your teammate and closest personal friend outside of baseball, asked you inquisitively, one of his large hands rubbing into the tense muscle of your shoulder, using the other to send a tactical text message to someone.

When you weren’t training, working out, or competing in your college team’s playoff games, you were hanging out in Yunho’s frat house, watching him get his ass handed to him in League. You both had a simple, easy going relationship, one that consisted of chill kickbacks and drunken shenanigans, with the occasional exchange of longing glances, lingering touches, and perhaps an adrenaline induced fuck or two, or three before and after one of your games — but who were you to decipher what your relationship status was? You had your future career to focus on.

“Am I ready? Yun, I came out the pussy ready for this fucking game,” you replied vulgarly, bringing your water bottle up to your lips to take a few sips, smiling crookedly up at your tall friend over the shoulder he was keenly massaging.

“That’s what I like to hear, baby,” Yunho chimed proudly, shoving his phone into his back pocket so that he could use both of his hands on your shoulders, doing his best to loosen up your muscles with his long, slender fingers.

“I’m not your baby, but maybe I would be if you stopped solo-queuing as Braum every time you hop on League.” You couldn’t help but let out a few groans from the pressure he was using on you, hoping that his massage would aid you in the powerful swings you would have to make during the next seven innings. “I’m tired of watching you get ass fucked every round.”

“You wanna go for a few rounds next time then? I wouldn’t mind watching you get wrecked,” Yunho mumbled into your ear, glancing across the dugout at the other team, before he let go of you and sat down next to his rowdy teammates, joining in on the competition to see whose thighs could take up the most space on the crowded bench.

“Yeah, I bet, you degenerate. Oh, you know what else you can watch?” you retorted, pretending to reach into one of your pockets and pulling out nothing, simply holding your middle finger up to Yunho. Your best friend quickly mirrored your unique display of affection, leading the both of you to giggle and smile at each other for a little too long, before you decided to sit down as well and conserve your energy.

During the typical pre-game announcements, you found yourself not being able to get comfortable like you usually could. It was off-putting, to say the least. There was nothing unusual going on. The sky was nice and clear, the wind blew a cool breeze across the exposed skin of your neck, right in between your pulled-up hair and the collar of your softball uniform. Your teammates were all stretching their limbs, shooting the shit, eagerly chewing nicotine gum, or spitting out tobacco juice into empty water bottles. All was right in the world, yet you couldn’t seem to stop bouncing your thigh, your cleats repeatedly digging deeper marks into the dirt below. That was when you felt the intensity of someone’s eyes boring into you.

“Yo, baby, you got some chew on you?” someone with an irritatingly smug, yet distinctly familiar voice asked you from the other side of the snug dugout.

You immediately stood up from your seat, turning your head in the direction of the voice, just in time for you to come face to face with the Devil himself.

Jung Wooyoung, a pitcher with a fearsome curveball, and your self-proclaimed enemy since the beginning of the playoffs, was casually leaning down against the small metal fence that separated your teams, looking up at you through the yellow lenses of his sunglasses.

“Do I look like the type to put that nasty shit in my mouth?” you immediately snapped, taking a few steps in his direction, not realizing how hard you were squeezing your plastic water bottle until it began to audibly crunch inside your tight grasp. “Huh?”

Wooyoung licked at the mole on his chapped bottom lip, his canines becoming visible when he smiled cockily at you. He missed his favorite plaything. You were so easy to rile up. It made his already tight pinstripe pants even tighter. “Mm, but you’ve put nastier things in your mouth, haven’t you, baby?”

Scoffing, you placed your hands on your soft hips, shaking your head, pretending his perverse words didn’t make your cheeks feel like they were already sunburnt, wanting to put up more of a front, now that your entire team was possibly listening in. “You would know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you, Wooyoung? The handjobs you give your team aren’t doing enough for you these days, huh?”

Wooyoung did his best to ignore the snickers and whispers of your team, taking his cap off to run his fingers through his silky raven hair, biting the corner of his lip all the while. “People talk in the locker rooms, you know. They say you really know your way around a cock. Probably from all that practice you get with your teammates, yeah?” He looked over to Yunho, who sheepishly smiled at him. “You can vouch for me, can’t you, Yun?” The batter remained quiet out of fear of your wrath.

Wooyoung was about to say more, when his vision was suddenly blurred by something cold. You had offered him mercy, dumping the rest of your water on the pitcher’s head, rather than shoving the entire bottle up his ass like you desperately wanted to. Instead of blowing up on you and embarrassing himself like you had hoped he would, Wooyoung simply flipped his hair back and put his cap back on, resulting in a few squeals from some nearby fangirls that were sitting in the stands. “If getting me hard was the goal, you succeeded, Y/N.”

You grimaced. “You’re fucking disgusting, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung reached over the fence to push a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. “But, you love it, don’t you? That’s why you’re so obsessed with me.”

“You should be obsessed with me. Maybe if you paid attention, you could figure out how to pitch a ball that I won’t knock out of the goddamn stadium.”

You irked Wooyoung to no end, your equally quick-witted jabs getting underneath the pitcher’s tan skin. However, he wouldn’t let you have the satisfaction of seeing that, unless hell itself froze over. “And if you paid attention, maybe your team would actually make it past the playoffs.”

That was when a vein visibly began to bulge out of your temple, your jaw tensing. Wooyoung had struck a nerve. You knew it, he knew it, and your team definitely knew it. You’d give anything to make it to the championship game, but it was always just barely out of reach. The fact that Wooyoung would stoop so incredibly low had your blood boiling. You wanted nothing more than to grab the smug pitcher by his collar and spit directly in his face, but you were afraid that he would enjoy that more than you would have. So, instead you simply accepted defeat in that moment and sat back down on the bench, staring ahead at the expansive baseball field.

You were too caught up in your own furious thoughts to notice that Yunho had left the spot he had taken up on the bench, instead leaning on the same fence Wooyoung had been chilling on just moments ago.

“Your girl’s feisty, Yun. I fucking love it. She seems like she bites. Does she bite?” Wooyoung prodded the taller man, just as he pulled a vape out of his pocket and took a long hit, causally blowing out the smoke into Yunho’s face.

Yunho waved the vapor away, shaking his head slightly. “She’s not mine, but yeah, she bites. She…does a lot of things.”

Wooyoung hummed in response, smiling like he knew something no one else did, his eyes shifting from the crowd, to his teammates who smiled back at him, then back up at Yunho. “She’s not yours, but she lets you hit, doesn’t she?”

“She does…She’s just very...rough.” Yunho bit his lip, thinking about how ferociously you would ride his cock in the empty locker rooms after the games you would ultimately lose, remembering all the love bites and scratches you littered his broad body in, knowing you wouldn’t let him go until you left his cock raw and so sensitive he was ready to cry. He was more of a softie himself, a good boy, if you will, not exactly cut out for the animalistic sex you required after such a brutal loss. Wooyoung, however, seemed more fit for that. In fact, Yunho felt his throat go dry just imagining the two of you going at it in such a way, especially in front of him. That was allowed, right?

“Yunho.” Wooyoung took another long puff from his vape, using his free hand to take his glasses off and placing them over the brim of his baseball cap.

“Yeah?”

Wooyoung reached up to place his hand on Yunho’s tense shoulder, massaging his digits into it to loosen up the muscle. “I got a proposition for you. If your team wins today, you get to fuck a happy, calm Y/N. She’ll probably even blow you without expecting anything back. Who knows, she might even swallow.”

Yunho unconsciously licked his lips, glancing back over the shoulder Wooyoung was massaging into to admire your pretty face, even if it was contorted with rage-filled determination. He slowly looked back down at the pitcher. “And, if your team wins?”

Wooyoung grinned deviously, licking at one of his sharp canines. “I get to put that pretty slut in her place.”

The first locker in your sight was the main recipient of your bubbling anger, the side of your bat making contact with the metal, incidentally leaving an indent. “Motherfucker!” you shouted to no one inside the empty women’s locker room, tossing the bat down the long hallway, not bothering to watch it roll along the ground until it was stopped by someone’s dusty cleat.

You threw your baseball cap into your crowded locker along with your balled up, button-up shirt once you pulled it off of your torso. You then pressed your hands into the cool metal, staring at your angry, sweaty reflection in the locker door mirror, huffing and puffing. “How could you strike out to a bitch like him? Do better,” you told yourself, your hands forming fists.

Wooyoung cleared his throat, making his presence known, taking slow steps down the hallway with his hands in his pockets, happily chewing on a piece of gum. “I knew you were a sore loser, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“Are you lost, Wooyoung? This is the women’s locker room, and last time I checked you don’t have a pussy,” you spat in his direction, reaching down to unbutton your pants.

“You wanna check for me, baby? I might not be hung like Yunho, but I’ll still be able to pump you full of cum. A slutty little cleat chaser like you would love that, huh?” Wooyoung mused vulgarly, leaning against the lockers, lowering his tinted glasses to leer at your half-naked body.

You didn’t look at Wooyoung for too long, knowing you might kill him, or fuck him raw, if you did, now that jealousy-fueled rage was flowing through your veins.

A shower would probably help cool you down. Help you think straight. On the other hand, a nice, thick cock drilling into you wouldn’t solve all your problems, but it sure would help, even if it was your sworn enemy who was servicing you. Instead of replying, you simply shimmied out of your tight, dust-covered pants and stepped out of them, bringing a foot up onto the bench to stretch out your sore, bruise-ridden legs, deeply annoyed that you slid to so many bases just to lose anyway.

Wooyoung’s throat ran dry, his gaze suddenly fixated on the g-string that formed to the curves of your hips, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down upon the sight of the thin string tightly cupping your cunt as you bent down to massage your fingers into your thighs and calves. “Fuck, is that a thong? You usually don’t wear anything…”

“What does it look like, dumbass?” you snapped, before turning on your heels in the opposite direction, looking back at him over your shoulder. Chuckling softly at the tent that formed inside his pants, you reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it drop to the floor, prior to heading into the open shower room, very aware of the fact that Wooyoung was following close behind you like a eager, drooling puppy, smirking at the sounds of shuffling and grunting, the pitcher’s clothes hitting the tile floor on the way. Wooyoung talked a big game, but at the end of the day, he was just a man, and you took pride in knowing you had that power over him, even if you didn’t have it on the field.

“Hey, does having something rubbing against your pussy help you play better, Y/N? Or do you just like getting wet in front of all those men like the whore you are?” Wooyoung asked near your ear, watching you turn the shower handle to the right until a steady stream of warm water began to pour onto the both of you, waiting for you to turn around so that he could slip his twitching fingers under the thong straps that clung to your hips and pulled them up just to watch your pussy lips slip out past the thin material, making the pitcher groan.

“Did you come here just to slut shame me, Wooyoung?” You pressed your back into the cold tile wall behind you, goosebumps forming on your bare, heated skin, looking up at him past your wispy lashes, an amalgamation of intense hatred and lust sitting just beneath the surface of your piercing gaze. “Or did you come here to fuck me?”

Wooyoung groaned at your bold words, pressing one of his hands onto the wall near your head, the other cupping your slick cunt, his lips just barely ghosting yours. “I didn’t just come here to fuck you, princess. I came here to ruin you.”

“Then, ruin me,” you reiterated, grabbing Wooyoung by a tuft of his wet hair, your teeth and tongues clashing together in an instant.

Once Wooyoung was satisfied with the amount of spit he had swallowed, he pulled back, simply placing one hand on the top of your head and forcefully pushing you down until you got the hint.

You were mad at yourself for being unable to resist getting on your knees for a cocky prick like Wooyoung, so you simply glared up at him, trying to pretend you didn’t notice his stiff, thick cock standing at attention in front of your face. “When I said ruin me, I meant my cunt. You think I’m just gonna suck you off because you pushed my head down? It’s bold of you to assume I won’t bite.”

“Don’t be a brat, Y/N. I won today, so I deserve special treatment, don’t I?” Wooyoung argued, squinting his eyes at you once you began grimacing up at his erection, his fingers wrapping around your hair to create a makeshift ponytail. “Maybe if you didn’t strike out so many times, I would be the one on my knees, devouring that pretty cunt of yours.”

“Shut the fuck up…” you murmured, squeezing your thighs together, not understanding why someone like Wooyoung had so much power over you.

“That’s not very nice of you to say, princess.” Wooyoung reached down with his free hand to hold the base of his cock, tapping the leaking tip against your lips, smearing his pre-cum over them in the process. “How about we put that dirty mouth of yours to better use, yeah?”

Afraid he was late to the show after being forced to do an interview with the local college, Yunho quickly made his way into the women’s locker room, almost slipping on the bat you left on the floor as he followed the sounds of breathy groans, gurgled moans, and running water that were echoing from the showers. He almost fell to his knees at the sight of his best friend taking cock down her throat. You were a complete mess, streaks of mascara running down your flushed cheeks, strands of milky saliva dribbling down past your swollen lips, along your bulging throat, and onto your tits, your nose routinely making contact with Wooyoung’s pelvis. Yunho didn’t even know you could deep-throat cock with so much ease.

Leaning against the opposite side of the shower room, Yunho desperately began to palm at his stiff, leaking length through the baggy gray sweatpants that hung loosely from his hips, his cheeks and ears growing red once he caught your teary gaze.

You reached in between your trembling thighs, trying to relieve the deep ache inside your dripping cunt by filling it with two of your fingers, letting out a choked moan when Wooyoung roughly smacked the side of your cheek.

“Did I say you could touch yourself? You’re my cocksleeve right now. You don’t get to play with your cunt, dumb whore,” Wooyoung grunted, letting go of your hair to pinch your nose when you wouldn’t stop finger-fucking yourself, keeping his cock lodged deep inside your throat, cutting off your only source to oxygen.

“M-mmnfff…!” you whimpered, your brain starting to feel delightfully fuzzy around the edges, getting an instant head high from not being able to breathe. You waited until the very last second to stop playing with yourself, suddenly grabbing onto Wooyoung’s hips and squeezing them tightly, begging him for mercy with your watery eyes.

Wooyoung immediately pulled his cock out of your mouth and slapped it down onto your face as a further attempt to humiliate you in front of your friend. “What a dirty slut…” He began to jerk himself off, rubbing his reddened cockhead against your parted lips. “I want you to listen to me. Once I cum inside your mouth, you’re not going to swallow, got it?”

Wiping the excess saliva from your face, you nodded your head obediently, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes, knowing Yunho was just a few feet away from you, but too distracted by the thick, leaking cock right in front of your face. “Cum, please…”

Yunho didn’t realize how much he was getting off on being ignored by the two of you until he finally freed his cock from his stained sweatpants and jerked himself off directly, thick globs of pre-cum pouring down the side of his heavy length, breathy, whiny moans escaping from his drooling mouth, his glasses starting to fog up.

“Brainless for me already, hm? What a good girl. Now, show me your tongue,” Wooyoung whispered, taking advantage of the situation and sending a few strings of spit down onto it as soon as you held out your tongue. When he watched you swallow it immediately, your thighs squeezing together right after, Wooyoung tossed his head back and let out a long guttural groan, pressing his cockhead against your tongue just in time for spurts of hot cum to shoot out of it.

Ready to cum untouched from being used solely for Wooyoung’s pleasure, you carefully closed your mouth, not letting any of his hot load spill out, but not swallowing it down either, as much as you wanted to.

Wooyoung reached down to run his fingers through your wet hair, admiring the mess of pre-cum and spit you had on your face, smiling at you with his canines on display. “Spit out my cum onto your fingers and fuck it into that whore-hole of yours. You wanted to play with yourself, didn’t you? Now’s your chance, princess.”

Shocked by Wooyoung’s perverted request, you simply looked up at him with wide eyes, looking like a hamster with the way your cheeks were currently puffed out and filled with his cum.

“Go on, baby. Don’t be shy. Show Yunho why you have a reputation of being such a shameless cumslut with the guys on my team,” Wooyoung encouraged breathily, gently patting one of your filled cheeks, a few dribbles of milkiness leaking out past your lips.

Yunho’s eyes left the soaking mess in between your thighs for a second to meet your embarrassed gaze, coming to terms with this new information. Not only did you fuck him after your losses, but you took the time to fuck the winning team, even after Yunho had filled your womb with countless loads. You really were a slut. Yunho became so hard, he grew a bit dizzy.

“F-fine, but don’t stare…” you murmured sheepishly, as if you hadn’t been ran through by both of their teams before. The men in question watched with bated breath as you let the milky load drip onto your fingers, letting out little gasps when they quickly disappeared all the way inside you, your cunt making obscene squelching sounds each time you pushed them in and out.

“You’re so filthy…I think I’m in love,” Wooyoung sighed dreamily, reaching down to clutch your jaw with his slender fingers. He smiled keenly at your contorted expression, enjoying the sound of your whiny moans. “What’s wrong, princess? Are you going to cum just from being a filthy whore? Does it feel that good knowing you're breeding yourself with my load? Mm, and it feels even better knowing that Yunho is watching you be my pretty little cum dump, huh?”

“S-so good, I might…ffffuck…” Once your heated gaze returned to your best friend, Yunho began to seize up at the same time as you, painting his plain black t-shirt with ropes of cum just as your milky release poured onto the tile floor below.

Wooyoung simply chuckled in amusement, before turning his head to face his longtime friend just in time to see him wiping thick streaks of cum off of his long, softened length. “Did you just bust a nut from watching Y/N try to impregnate herself?”

“Y-yes.” Blushing, Yunho adjusted his glasses out of habit, now that he wasn’t wearing his contacts, pulling at the sleeve of his hoodie now that his two favorite people were looking at him like they wanted to devour him.

“You’re just as dirty as she is.” Wooyoung smiled idly, positioning himself behind you so that your back pressed into his chest, slowly spreading you wide open for all three of you to see just how pink your soaked slit was. “Hey, Yun. You hungry?”

“Very,” your teammate replied quickly, licking at his lips, already finding himself on his knees before you, ready to start panting in true golden retriever fashion.

“You don’t mind if Yun eats out your pretty, cum-stuffed cunt, do you, baby?” Wooyoung asked you, leaning over to nip at your jaw, pinching your swollen clit just to hear the cute sound you made for him.

Just as you gave them the go-ahead, your teammate buried his face in between your thighs, appreciating how Wooyoung spread you open further with his thumbs, eagerly lapping at the milky liquid that slowly began to drip out of you.

“What a good puppy,” Wooyoung praised, growing hard and harder the longer he watched Yunho desperately slurp up the tangy mixture into his drooling mouth, slipping his cock in between your soft, sweaty thighs, appreciating the warmth they provided. “Do you like the way my cum tastes, Yun?”

“Tasches scho good, Woo,” Yunho replied with his mouth full, dragging his dripping tongue up and over your puffy cunt over and over, idly kneading his fingers into the sides of your thighs.

Groaning, Wooyoung began to fuck the tight space in between your thighs, the underside of his cock rubbing deliciously against your pussy, making you moan even louder than you were before. “You wanna taste it from the source, Yun? Huh? You want a taste of my cock?”

Yunho nodded quickly, having to push down his own stiff length from the way it was poking into his abdomen. Drooling, he watched how Wooyoung pulled you just a little farther back against his body, until Yunho had access to his friend’s leaking cock, immediately wrapping his lips around the reddened tip and noisily slurping on it.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Wooyoung moaned out, clutching one of your hips tightly, snaking the other one around your waist to begin flicking and rubbing your clit, looking down over your shoulder to watch his friend fervently suck and lick at his cock each time he thrusted himself between your closed, trembling thighs, a combination of his pre-cum and your wetness dirtying Yunho’s foggy glasses. “I’m gonna fucking cum all over your face, Yun. Gonna make Y/N squirt all over it too.”

“Give it to me, please…” he panted, dragging his tongue up from Wooyoung’s twitching tip, along your pulsing cunt, and up over your clit, licking fervently at it when Wooyoung lifted your hood up to expose it completely. Yunho was so desperate to chase his high, he almost didn’t register that he had begun to hump against your leg like a dog in heat, leaving streaks of sticky pre-cum on your skin.

“Good puppy, fuck, you’re such a good boy, Yuyu,” you praised your teammate whinily, desperately rubbing your cunt all over his tongue until your knees felt like they were about to buckle, Wooyoung’s veiny cock running along your slit from below sending you over the edge.

“Wet this puppy’s face with your squirt, baby. Now,” Wooyoung growled into your ear, biting on the side of it just as he roughly pinched your clit, thrusting forward in between your thighs one more time, only for his sensitive tip to be met with Yunho’s agile tongue, his eyes rolling back when his friend lapped over and into the slit.

Right as your arousal began to squirt onto Yunho’s flushed face, Wooyoung’s cock twitched up into your cunt, his hot load shooting out onto your teammate’s tongue, a few spurts landing onto his glasses.

When Yunho was about to cum from rubbing himself all over your leg, he suddenly didn’t have access to it, causing him to look up and whimper. Licking at the cum and squirt on his lips, his honey brown eyes widened at the both of you, his pupils blown wide.

Wooyoung had lifted up your trembling thighs so that they were pressed into either side of you, your body folded up like a paper doll, his hardened cock already slipping in and out of your soaking cunt. Chuckling at your breathless moans and whines, he dragged his tongue up and over your jaw, humming at the taste of your salty skin. “You’ve been waiting to get pounded like this, yeah? Because no one uses this pretty body like I do…huh? You’re so spoiled now.”

“It’s all your fault,” you gasped out in between moans, reaching your arm back to hold onto Wooyoung’s neck, turning your head so that your lips ghosted along the side of his panting mouth. “Please cum inside, Woo, please, I need it.”

Wooyoung squeezed his fingers into the underside of your thighs, bucking his hips roughly up into you. “God, I love when I turn you into my little breeding bitch.” He turned his head so that he could bite at your bottom lip, groaning, “Get ready to retire, baby. I’m gonna knock you up.”

Yunho thought he was going to lose his goddamn mind from witnessing the display of dominance and submission that was taking place directly above him. Wooyoung was completely controlling your body, ruthlessly fucking up into you, one hand tugging at your hair, the other wrapped around your neck, a small bulge routinely becoming visible within your lower abdomen with each thrust and every he made into your stretched cunt. It seemed like neither of you could even remember that Yunho was there, right below you, until he began to eagerly lick at the slick, milky space where your heated, sticky bodies routinely made contact.

You both moaned at the pleasurable sensation, your pulsing lower halves beginning to grow extremely heavy. “Yuyuuu, that feels so good,” you whimpered, angling your head down to gaze lovingly at Yunho, reaching your hand down to ruffle his sweaty hair.

Growling, Wooyoung grabbed you by the chin and shoved his tongue down your throat, forcibly bouncing you up and down on his cock. Your teary eyes never closed, and never left Yunho’s, even when you began to cum for Wooyoung, your release spilling out into your dear teammate’s open mouth and onto his lolled-out tongue. Just when Yunho thought he couldn’t get any harder, you began to cry out a cuter version of Wooyoung’s name once he really started to drill his pulsing cock into your sensitive cunt, the twinges of jealousy Yunho felt only contributing to his need to witness his friend unload himself into you.

Wooyoung pressed his forehead against yours, his sharp eyes boring into yours. “You look at me when you take my load, baby. I don’t care if your little boyfriend is watching me fuck you stupid,” he demanded, smacking his palm roughly into the side of your ass, making you squeak out in pleasurable pain.

“Yes, Youngie,” you breathed out, your eyebrows drawing closer once your bottom half began to grow heavier and heavier, not knowing if you were truly capable of cumming for the nth time.

“What a good girl…Open your mouth for me…” Sighing softly, he caught his dripping saliva on your tongue with his own and slid it into your open mouth, the both of you letting out muffled moans as he spilled inside you once again. He broke the sloppy kiss to look down over your shoulder, admiring how his load began to slip out past his softening cock, dripped down past his balls, and landed onto Yunho’s fucked-out face. He smiled darkly at the dried spurts of cum Yunho left on his t-shirt and stained sweatpants. “Baby, look at the mess puppy made…”

You licked at your lips, both you and Wooyoung just about devouring your teammate with your lustful gazes alone. “Oh, Yuyu. Look what you’ve done to yourself. Poor, sweet puppy just wants to feel good, doesn’t he?”

Yunho bit his bottom lip, looking up at the both of you with half-closed, watery eyes, completely at your combined mercy. “Y-yeah. More, please.”

You and Wooyoung exchanged lecherous glances, knowing neither of you would be able to stop, especially not when you had such a perfect new companion to play with. Despite all the odds, you and your rival had finally come to a truce, and, of course, came to the conclusion that you’d be tag teaming Yunho until you would have to get ready for softball practice the next morning.

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moons-and-mobility-aids · 16 days ago

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Mama

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader Summary: When Christopher climbs into bed at 2 a.m., all you expect is a nightmare. What you get is something quieter, heavier, and far more permanent. Tags: fem!reader, no use of y/n, established relationship, found family, gentle!eddie diaz, christopher diaz centric for parts of it, quiet domesticity, late night emotional conversations, asking for a parental role, soft!fic, fluff, reader steps into the mom role without realising, eddie already knew, syrupy morning after, hurt/comfort in the gentlest way, emotionally significant naming moment, christopher's thoughts on family, you’re already his mama he just needed to ask Word count: 625 words Note: I originally wrote this in 2023 but I've just edited it to match how I write now.

The mattress dips under a familiar weight, rousing you from the precipice of sleep. Christopher's silhouette comes into focus, his small body contorted with the effort of climbing into your bed.

"Hey baby," you murmur, shifting to make room for him. "You okay?"

He doesn't answer at first, his breaths shuddery against the quiet hum of the night. Cautiously, you reach out, your hand coming to rest on the curve of his back. It rises and falls under your touch, a testament to the life he carries within him. Unspoken words hang in the air, heavy as the darkness that presses in around you.

"I want..."

His voice is barely audible, a fragile thread woven through the stillness. You wait, your heart beating a steady rhythm against the silence, giving him the space he needs to continue.

"I know I had a mom, but I want to..."

You understand what he means even before he finishes the sentence. The mother who brought him into this world is gone, replaced by a void only you can fill. But how do you replace a love that has been ripped away so cruelly?

"What should I call you?" His thoughts tumble out, raw and unfiltered. "Mom doesn't feel right, but you... you do those things."

And he's right. You've taken on the role without even realising it—making his lunch, driving him to school, caring for him when he's sick. You've become the constant in his ever-changing world, a beacon guiding him through the storm.

"How about 'Mama'?"

The word hangs in the air between you, a tentative bridge over the chasm of unspoken fears. He turns it over in his mind, letting it take shape, then breathes it out again, a whisper against your skin.

"'Mama.'"

It sounds right—feels right—in a way that defies explanation. The corners of Christopher's mouth twitch upward in a small smile, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes but holds promise nonetheless.

"I think... I like that," he murmurs, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly.

You press a soft kiss to his temple, then settle back down, wrapping an arm around him once more. "Get some sleep, love."

The next day, Eddie steps into the kitchen just as Chris is finishing his first pancake. "Daddy, Mama made pancakes!" he announces with syrup on his chin.

"I see that," Eddie says with a soft chuckle. He ruffles Chris's hair and leans in to kiss the top of his head before making his way over to you. "Morning, Mama," he teases, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

You swat him lightly, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smile pulling at your lips. He already knows. Chris doesn't have a phone of his own yet, which means Christopher had spoken to Eddie beforehand.

"When did he talk to you about it?" you ask, sliding a plate stacked high with pancakes toward Eddie.

"A few days ago," Eddie admits, taking a seat and reaching for the maple syrup. "He said Jee-Yun being born made him start thinking about it. He wasn't sure what name to use for you, though, so he was waiting until he figured it out."

"Well," you say, reaching over to tousle Chris's hair, "he stopped waiting and asked me directly. I don't mind being woken up at 2 a.m. for things like that."

Chris giggles, mouth full of pancake, and you turn back to Eddie, leaning in to capture his lips in a brief but meaningful kiss.

You've found your home here, amid the laughter and love of this sweet, unconventional family. And now, with Chris wanting to call you his mom—even if it's in his own unique way—it feels even more like yours. Permanent.

#911 fox #911 imagine #christopher diaz #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz #eddie diaz x you #eddie diaz x y/n #eddie diaz imagine #chantelle writes fic

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crimsonbubble · 10 months ago

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Seeing ateez announced in the lineup for waterbomb LA gave me thoughts about ot8 x 9th member!reader. so have you seen the vid of bibi and at waterbomb in '22 her bikini top almost came off so she said "oppa" and a bunch of guys were ready to help? thinking that but with ateez and reader, maybe her oppas are matz only, like she's 3rd oldest in the group and she calls for their help while performing. later you have smug matz bragging to the younger guys how reader asked for their help specifically

Ocean Blue

cw. vaguely suggestive, can this classify as gender neutral, wardrobe malfunction *not proofread, just pure brainrot

[why did this make me froth at the mouth]

taglist (dm to be tagged); @sidusvenari @sugarnspice630 @ravenempress101 @autieofthevalley @linearities @wisejudgedragonhairdo @madiexuberant @mifuelarts @straytiny127 @yun-fangz @huen1ngk41

Imagine having the time of your life on stage during waterbomb.

Like you’re just there performing and getting fucking soaked in the process, wearing a white shirt over a bikini top just so you can see through it.

Pulling your shirt off at some point in the show bc the feeling of wet clothes is not necessarily a fun one after a few minutes. But the bikini strings get snagged between the folds of the wet shirt and comes undone.

Pressing the shirt to your chest as you try to come up with a plan to fix it, spotting matz singing to the crowd. Frantically running over to them and both of their eyes almost pop out of their heads. Mainly bc they can see that your bikini strings are indeed untied and that the only thing protecting your current image is a wet, see-through shirt and your hands.

But Hongjoong immediately stands behind you to tie your bikini again and Seonghwa stands in front of you like a temporary shield.

The rest of the event continues, and yall have fun blah blah blah

Now. After the event. I feel like matz wouldn’t brag bc they don’t see it as a big deal until Wooyoung starts complaining. Then matz are just like “ha! sucks to suck.” and watching as Wooyoung keeps arguing. Then matz just tell him to take it up with you instead lmao

Cue Wooyoung grabbing your shoulders and shaking you around as he whines about it not being fair that you went to matz for help rather than any other member. Even if you tell him it’s because matz were just closer in distance, Wooyoung will not accept it and stick to you like glue, like he is not letting you go.

#bubbly speaks <3 #ash answers #bubbly writes <3 #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez x female reader #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard asks #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong hard thoughts #hongjoong hard hours

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theside-b · 28 days ago

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First look: Connecting to You 🇹🇼

Here they come, the first promo stills and round of interviews are finally here. Connecting to You was stuck on development hell since 2023, and now director Yu Jhi Han explained what happened, citing trouble casting the duo of protagonists, natural chemistry being paramount to him.

Jia Kai, an introverted college student played by Bruce Chiu, he has special abilities since he was a child, capable of seeing the emotional connection between people. He also opened a "Love Psychic Club" to help others solve emotional problems, but he himself is a "wireless person" until he met Da Wei, an upright policeman played by Liu Yuren. The two of them immediately bond in their first meeting, as if fate was silently pulling them together. Jia Kai uses his psychic abilities to assist Da Wei in solving various cases. The two who originally did not know each other gradually take an irreplaceable position in each other's hearts, becoming a youth romantic comedy full of fantasy.

Bruce believes that the biggest challenge was portraying an introvert character since he is the opposite in real life "Jia Kai has no connection in the whole world. His personality is more withdrawn. He is eager to connect with others".

As for Li Yun Ren shooting took an emotional turn, his character is a policeman, same as his father "My father is also a policeman, and I used to imagine myself as the president of the police. This attracted me a lot."

They also acknowledged the photos taken by netizens, hoping that not a whole lot got spoiled by the pictures.

Since the marketing blitz started we can expect an announcement for the release date soon, this could possibly premiere this summer and overlap with Secret Lover, Taiwan is coming full force.

Connecting to You does not share much DNA with other taiwanese BL shows, but it's interesting to note that it has some of the same production credits of First Note of Love.

#connecting to you #taiwanese drama #taiwanese bl #upcoming bl #fantasy and action?!#we will all be seated!!!

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becausebuckley · 1 month ago

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the longer speculation is, the better🙏💕✍️

alright, since you all asked so nicely <3 i’m posting this with the warning that i don’t do screenwriting, so who knows how pacing works in episodic format, and i definitely don’t have any sort of medical knowledge or fire knowledge or whatever lol. what i do have is sleep deprivation and a fever! it’s been A Day.

9x01

So, the season opener, 9x01. We start out not with one of our favourite characters, but someone mysterious. This person wakes up in the morning and goes through her morning routine while something upbeat plays in the background. We see her getting dressed, heading to work etc, but we never see who, exactly, she is. She makes breakfast, but doesn’t eat it. Her workplace looks like a lab of some sort. She greets the security guard, then a colleague, who warns her that the microwave keeps sparking and she shouldn’t use it. The mystery scientist says something about the fire suppression system going down two weeks ago only being the starting point and they bemoan budget cuts together. Her voice sounds vaguely familiar, but we still don't know who we're following. As she enters her own lab, we see her two assistants squabbling over a lunch-related issue. They jump apart once they see our mystery scientist walk in. One of them says that they're all ready and that today is the big day. The mystery scientist agrees, says she’s been too nervous to eat, and examines a vial of some sort of medicine that's waiting for her. As she leans away, her face becomes visible on a reflective surface.

Moira stares right into the camera, smiling.

Cut to the 911 intro.

We pick up again at the Diaz (and Buckley) residence. Buck wakes up on the couch, groaning as he pops his back. He shuffles to the kitchen and begins making breakfast. It's clear that he's been living here for a while, fully settled in. The furniture is a mix of his and Eddie's stuff. Christopher and Eddie come in and the three of them have breakfast together. They have a short conversation that establishes the following: Buck is looking for a new place, but hasn't found anything fitting in part due to Eddie's criticism of them, he's been crashing on the Diaz couch even though Eddie keeps telling him to take the bed for a night (it's unclear if he means they should swap sleeping places or if they should share the bed), and Christopher thinks that Buck should stay and make him breakfast every morning. Buck says something about breakfast dishes being where his and Bobby's cooking lessons started (as a fun little callback, he's made the same dish that he made Maddie way back in season 2 - i think it was an omelette?). Cue melancholy expressions. Someone checks the time. They rush off to school/work. Buck and Eddie nearly trip over each other when they grab their work stuff: Buck says he promises he'll be out of their hair soon, and Eddie says there's no rush. He longingly looks after Buck as Buck and Christopher walk towards the car.

Cut to Maddie and Chimney's place. Chimney is balancing getting ready and taking care of the baby. Maddie is doing Jee-Yun's hair while Jee eats breakfast. They're all a bit in a frenzy and the house looks chaotic. They discuss that Maddie's maternity leave is ending soon and how it's more difficult to manage two kids than they expected. Chimney mentions that, now that he's captain of the 118, he's spending more time at work than he was before, and that the paperwork is horrible. Maddie asks if he regrets taking the position. Chimney says he doesn't, that he's glad he's proven to himself and the team that he can do it, but that he wonders if he made the right choice.

Then a quick scene with the Wilsons, just enough for Hen and Karen to announce to the kids that they’re going on their first family vacation in a few weeks. They’ll be going to some sort of all-inclusive family resort and they’re all excited. (this isn’t so much related to this opening arc as it is something that I think would be fun in a future episode, something fun and light for this family after everything they’ve been through these past few seasons. I imagine the kids trying to optimise the all you can eat buffet spread while Hen and Karen deal with assorted mysteries a la FOMO, and then they’ll get a nice big thing later on in the season to kind of spread everything out nicely)

We have the team go on one quick call to establish the dynamics now that Chimney is captain. Something medical, probably, or just someone being stuck somewhere. In any case, it’ll be silly and end well. On the scene, Buck jumps out of the engine, groaning as he lands. Ravi reminds him that he’s happy to help Buck find a new place so he no longer has to sleep on the couch. Eddie cuts him off and tells him to focus on the job, clearly not wanting Buck to move. The call will show us that Chimney is a much better captain than he was last time around. Hen takes the lead on the medical stuff, helped mostly by Eddie and Ravi, with Buck a little more in the background. This would then set up a paramedic arc for either Ravi or Eddie, I’m not sure which of the two.

We cut back to our mystery lab and one of the two assistants we saw earlier. Let’s call the assistants Stevie and Barbara, to make things easier (not significant names, just based on the books I have next to me rn). They’re working, but Stevie and Barbara keep arguing, with Stevie not taking any of Barbara’s suggestions seriously. Moira gets fed up and sends them out of the lab. They go to the break room and continue to fight. Barbara storms out. Stevie heads for the fridge and, in an act of revenge, takes Barbara’s lunch. He eats a few bites, then puts it in the microwave. While the food heats up, Stevie suddenly feels unwell and races to the bathroom. The last thing we see is the microwave, sparking.

Athena is on shift, driving, and taking a hands-free call from May at the same time. May is on a post-graduation vacation with friends, but is worried about her mother, who still hasn’t sold the house. Athena admits that something holds her back every time, even though she can’t stand to live there and spends as much time out of the house as possible. She assures May that there’s no need to worry. May says she’ll be home soon and clearly doesn’t really believe her. Athena gets a call to assist at a fire several blocks from her to help keep the peace. She says goodbye to May and heads to the scene. This both reminds us of Athena’s grief and opens up possibilities for May to rejoin dispatch or something along those lines.

The 118 arrive at the scene before Athena does. Chimney takes the lead and asks the crowd gathered in front of the smoking building what’s going on. They explain that there’s a fire, it started in the communal kitchen, their suppression system doesn’t work, and the fire escape collapsed when they evacuated, so quite a few of them are banged up. When Chimney orders the team to go inside, he’s blocked by the security personnel, who tell him they’re under instructions not to let any First Responders in. One of them looks uncertain and tries to let them help, but she’s overruled by the others.

Athena pulls up. Chimney explains the situation to her. While they try to talk reason into the security guards – way more than a simple lab would require, as Hen and Ravi discuss – several fancy black cars show up. The FBI takes over the scene and tells Chimney that they can extinguish the fire, but only from outside the building. The firefighters try to fight them on this, pointing out that there might be survivors inside and the fire is deep within the building, but the FBI won’t budge. They notice the 118 on their helmets and request a different station to help them. Chimney passes this on to Josh. Cut to Josh, who also has an FBI agent standing next to him at Dispatch, who agrees to send others.

While Chimney instructs Hen to take the lead on triaging the crowd outside, Athena decides to investigate. She pretends to drive away, then sneaks around the building. She finds another entrance to the building. The smoke is thicker back here, and the guard at this door is passed out. She radios Buck to bring Eddie, a med kit, and tells him she needs to borrow his gear. Buck and Eddie tell Ravi to cover for them and slip away. Eddie takes care of the unconscious guard while Buck helps Athena put on his mask and breathing equipment. She tells them that the FBI only told the firefighters not to go inside, not her. Besides, nobody tells her what to do. Athena enters the building.

Hen and Ravi are dealing with Barbara, who has a pretty nasty leg wound and internal bleeding, but who seems more focused on cursing out her colleague, who she’s sure is responsible. She explains that Stevie has been on her case since she started at the lab a few months ago. He’d been there for years, but she was brought in for the start of a new project, and Stevie doesn’t like that she technically outranks him. He’s been misplacing her supplies and eating her food to bully her. This morning, she added a homemade, extra-fast, extra-strong laxative to her lunch, hoping to teach him a lesson, and when she left the break room, she saw him heading for the fridge. Hen asks if Stevie made it out and Barbara says she doesn’t know and doesn’t care. Ravi goes to look for Stevie.

Meanwhile, Chimney meets the 133, who are pulling up, and tells them what’s going on. Their captain looks equally confused, but agrees to set up his men on the outside and at least try to stop the fire from spreading further. Once they get to work, the FBI dismisses Chimney, and when Chimney tells them that they have no right to block firefighters from doing their job like this, he’s told it’s a matter of national security. Chimney wonders out loud what kind of lab this is.

Athena makes her way through the building. There are alarms blaring, the hallways are filled with smoke, but the fire isn’t spreading too rapidly. She hears someone calling from the bathroom and finds Stevie, who refuses to leave the bathroom as the laxatives have truly taken effect. He immediately tells Athena that Barbara must’ve made them and that fast-acting mixtures like this are her specialty. He also says that they’re working on a big experiment and that his boss must be in here still, because she’d never abandon him (he actually says him and not me, so he’s referring to a mystery new person). Athena tells him that she’ll get him help, but Buck and Eddie are already behind her, which doesn’t seem to surprise her at all. She leaves Stevie in their care and continues to look for his boss.

Meanwhile, Ravi finds Chimney and Hen, looking troubled. He tells Chimney that he can’t find Stevie, but that he’s been told there’s another person missing, and her name is Moira. This rings a bell for both of them, but they agree that it can’t be her, because Moira is supposed to be in prison. Barbara pipes up and tells them that Moira was going to be in prison, but never ended up going there because her experiment took a turn. As long as the experiment survives, so does Moira. She says it’s all confidential, but Chimney pushes her and commands her to tell him what the experiment is. She says it’s not a what, it’s a who, and passes out, very dramatically timed.

Athena, following Stevie’s directions, finds Moira’s lab, though she doesn’t know that that is what it is yet. She sees Moira in there, but with her back turned and therefore doesn’t recognise her. The door is sealed shut, so Athena follows the windows alongside the lab and tries to find another entrance or catch Moira’s attention. Moira is aware of the fire, of course, and of Athena’s banging on the windows, but the smoke hasn’t reached into the lab, so she keeps going. She says something to herself about needing more time as she prepares a shot. Athena turns around a corner and is faced with a different section of the lab through a window. There are curtains here, so she can’t see as much, but through a small sliver, she makes out a bed, and she sees an arm. Moira’s experiment is a person.

Moira enters this part of the lab. It causes the curtains to shift. Athena can see more and recognises her husband, lying on that bed. He’s unconscious and pale. The camera zooms in on him. We see his chest rise.

Cue end credits.

9x02

We open with a flashback. Starting back at the end of the Contagion arc, when Bobby’s body is carried out, except we follow the body this time. I don’t really know medical stuff, but essentially, it’s established that Bobby is in critical condition, but not dead, and so they’re monitoring him For Science. Over the next few months, Bobby remains in a coma while Moira, Barbara, and Stevie work on finding him a cure so they can wake him up. The flashback montage ends with the same scene that the last episode opened on, Moira entering the lab on the day of the microwave explosion, except this time, it’s from Stevie and Barbara’s perspective and we get a little more information on what they’re doing.

Intro tune.

Hen and Chimney are trying to save Barbara. Once again, I don’t do medical stuff, but let’s assume that they somehow make sure that she won’t die, but she is still unconscious and needs to get to a hospital as soon as possible. They’re reluctant to leave, though, so Chimney asks Josh for another ambulance, which Josh reluctantly agrees to send. Meanwhile, one of the FBI people approaches Ravi and asks where the rest of their team is, and Ravi very badly lies and tells the FBI person that they went to get coffee. This is clearly not believed, but the FBI agent can’t do much about it yet, and Ravi runs off to triage more people.

Athena is slamming on the window of the lab. Moira finally stops ignoring her and whirls around, yelling something about needing more time. Athena can barely hear her. As Moira moves to inject Bobby with something, Athena kind of loses it.

Buck and Eddie are still with Stevie and try to stabilise his condition while also getting more information out of him. He’s reacting really badly to Barbara’s food experiment and needs proper medical care soon. When they go to carry him out, they find a new guard, weapon and all, at the back entrance. It’s the same one who looked uncertain earlier. The guard doesn’t see them, but they’re basically trapped.

While Barbara is loaded into an ambulance, Chimney, Hen, and Ravi discuss what they think is going on here. When Ravi begins to suggest that it could be Bobby, Chimney cuts him off and tells him not to go there. Hen places a hand on his arm and says that they have to investigate anyway. Through the radio, they learn about Buck and Eddie’s situation. They decide to go to the back and try to distract the new guard.

Smoke finally begins to enter Moira’s lab. She’s doing medical stuff and monitoring Bobby. She says the results are promising and he should wake up soon, but she needs more time. Athena keeps threatening her, still banging on the window. She clearly doesn’t trust Moira.

Ravi walks up to the guard at the back entrance. He tries to engage her in conversation, but it doesn’t work. He eventually decides to fake faint. Somehow, this works, and Hen and Chimney manage to sneak inside.

The fire, meanwhile, is very much not under control. There are three different firehouses working on it now, but they’re still not allowed entry into the building. The three captains discuss their best course of action with Josh. They’re all worried about the structural integrity of the building.

Moira is starting to feel dizzy. It’s a combination of smoke inhalation, heat, and the fact that she hasn’t eaten in days. Athena manages to convince her to open the door. She rushes in, pushes past Moira, and towards Bobby. He’s still unconscious, but colour is returning to his cheeks, and the oxygen mask is keeping him safe from the smoke. Athena, crying, radioes Chimney on a private line and instructs him to come here.

Hen and Eddie stay with Stevie while Chimney and Buck head for Athena. They use some of the fire extinguishers they find in the building to clear a path – neither of them has a full set of gear at the moment. Buck probably took off his helmet, as he does. They still don’t know what they’re walking into exactly. They don’t dare hope that it is what they think it is. They comment that the building is looking unstable.

Athena holds Bobby’s hand. She feels him stir, but he doesn’t open his eyes or seem aware of anything yet. In the background, Moira is fully collapsed on the floor, barely conscious. Buck and Chimney walk in and see Bobby in the bed. Buck drops the fire extinguisher he’s holding. Athena spurs them into action. Chimney goes to take Bobby’s vitals while Buck checks over Moira.

While all of this is going on, Ravi is still distracting the guard. They’re currently flirting. Ravi is doing badly, but the guard seems into it. Ravi sees Hen and Eddie appear behind the guard’s back, Stevie between them. Ravi pretends to faint again. This time, the guard isn’t fooled, and her act drops as she raises her gun at Ravi.

Moira comes to and tells Buck that she was just trying to keep the experiment going so she could get her Nobel prize and stay out of prison. Buck tells her that that’s selfish and that they’ve all been grieving Bobby. Before Moira can reply to this, her attention is caught by the flames licking around the door to her lab. Buck extinguishes them, but they realise they’re well and truly caught. Chimney and Athena turn to face them, too.

Suddenly, a weak voice says something about having bad timing. The camera pans to Bobby, awake, smiling.

A crack appears in the wall behind him.

End credits.

9x03

The episode opens with Bobby, Athena, Chimney, Buck, and Moira in the lab. They decide they have to move. Moira can walk with a little help, but Bobby probably won’t be able to, and Chimney doesn’t really want to move him without understanding his condition more. Moira explains that she’s been keeping Bobby in a stable condition for months and that the injection she gave him earlier is basically a supercharged version of the cure Chimney received, so he’ll make a full recovery, but being in a coma for months is still going to be hard to bounce back from. He tries to sit up, but is too weak to do so. They’ll need help, but when they radio the rest of the 118, they don’t get an answer.

The guard still holds Ravi at gunpoint. Hen and Eddie have ducked back into the corridor, still unnoticed, Stevie slumped against the wall next to them. Eddie tries to convince Hen that he can take the guard down, but Hen tells him not to risk it, and that they can’t control if Ravi will get hurt or not. Before they can decide on anything, they hear Chimney’s request for help. Chimney tells them that their suspicions were right. Hen and Eddie exchange a look and tear up. Eddie jumps up and makes to run outside, but he smacks right into Ravi and the guard, coming around the corner.

Ravi explains that he told the guard about their theory and that Chimney’s message convinced her to lower her weapon and help them out. She hadn’t known anything about what happens at the lap, but she’s been wondering, and this crosses all sorts of limits for her. She reveals that this was supposed to be a temporary job before she applies to the police academy, so she has no company loyalty whatsoever. When Chimney calls for them again, Hen answers and says that they’re on their way. Chimney says they’ll need to grab some gear first, because the fire is closing in on them, and they can’t get out like this, but they also have to hurry, because this building won’t hold itself up for much longer.

Bobby tries to tell the others to go and leave him. Athena says she absolutely won’t be doing that and the others agree. Besides, Buck jokes, the fire is too close now anyway. They just have to wait for the rest of their team.

Accompanied by a guard, Hen, Eddie, and Ravi make their way over to the other firefighters relatively easily. Hen hands Stevie over to another paramedic while Ravi grabs a hose, aided by the guard, and Eddie approaches the captains of the other firehouses. He explains the situation, fully ignoring the FBI agents next to them (or tossing a zingy oneliner at them or something idk). They decide to break with their original orders and rescue the trapped firefighters as soon as possible.

Inside, the flames are getting closer. They’ve moved to a corner of the room, Bobby leaning heavily on the others, as the corner they were in looked so unstable. Things look pretty dicey, but then, the smoke and flames are replaced by a massive gush of water. Hen, Eddie, and Ravi appear through the doorway, carrying a stretcher. There’s no time for a reunion, so they help Bobby onto the stretcher and make their way out. They evacuate the building just before it crumbles. Tears and smiles all around.

The next day, Harry and a newly-returned May reunite with Bobby (and Athena) in the hospital. The hospital room is covered in cards and balloons and other gifts. It’s revealed that Bobby is there for monitoring for a while, but that he’ll be cleared to go home in a few days, though he has a long recovery ahead of him. Athena and Bobby are no longer planning on selling the house. Athena makes a throwaway comment about nobody being able to experiment on Bobby or anyone getting in trouble or whatever, just to tie up those loose ends. Bobby’s physical and mental recovery, as well as more fleshed-out conversations with everyone, will play out over the next few episodes, but for now, everything is okay.

Several days later, at the Grant-Nash house, the firefam is preparing for Bobby’s return home. Buck is in the kitchen, helping Harry finish cooking a dish. When Harry carries it out into the living room, Eddie comes into the kitchen. He tells Buck that they need to talk about something and confesses that he doesn’t want Buck to move out. Buck is shocked by this, but also really happy, and agrees to stay. They’re called into the living room. Athena helps Bobby into the house and everyone yells surprise.

A voiceover begins. Bobby gives a sentimental speech about coming home and being alive and love and all sorts of good stuff. It plays out over the final montage of the episode. Picture the tsunami arc end speech, basically. Maybe there’s a Hozier song too, idk.

We see some scenes of the party and the firefam all together. Later that night, madney put their kids to bed and watch from the doorway, holding each other. Henren curl up on the couch and plan their vacation. Bobby and Athena lie in bed, Athena’s head resting over Bobby’s heart. Bobby lifts her hand and kisses it.

Eddie heads to his bedroom at night. Before he walks through the door, he turns around and looks at Buck. Buck gives him a soft smile and follows. He pulls the door shut behind them.

End credits roll.

The next few episodes get Buddie together officially, have Bobby decide if he wants to retire or go back to work or whatever, have Chimney decide if he wants to stay Captain, have Henren’s fun arc and set up a serious arc for them. Ravi does something, probably, I don’t know. Stuff happens. I’m too tired to think about it. Lucy Donato appears at some point. Couch theory is real.

#michelle’s 911 thoughts #watch me make my longest tumblr post ever and immediately dip to sleep for twelve hours #i’m curious what yall want to see in season 9 though!!#on any and all fronts #hiatus has begun which means it’s speculation season <3 #and regardless of how i feel about 8b this is the first hiatus between seasons that i’m here for #since i wasn’t caught up yet last time #and i’m excited for it!#anyway #911 abc #911 season 9 #911 speculation #911 spoilers #just in case :)#i frankly don’t remember if there are major spoilers here lmao

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 8 months ago

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❝ You’re the one who brought the dawn to my eternal nights. ❞

Ω!reader x α!jeong-hyun | omegaverse AU, fluff, NSFW | sub. bttm. reader (AFAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 4k

warnings: graphic description of violence, mentions/descriptions of CA (physical, mental, emotional), mentions of dog attacks, guns, power imbalance, yandere tendencies, mentions of drugs, stalking, mentions of torture

masterlist: how you met (mob yanderes) : pt. 1 (K.JH); pt. 2 (K, JH); pt.3 (K. JH)

authors note: @xuxitheii come get your meal "...(Y/N) could be a performer/singer at a gentleman's club..." *song on repeat: Gangsta by Kehlani (spec. the flashback version)

* YN is described as wearing more fem. clothing as he performs

He doesn't understand why he is the way he is. If Jeong-Hyun could voice his thoughts in a more concise manner, he would tell others that though the life he leads, with death awaiting at every corner, was perfect for him — he wishes he could do anything else other than this.

That, although, he is a violent man he only ever uses it as a necessity; a reaction, a defense.

A dog does not bite for no reason.

But he is not a dog.

He is a man.

Seo-Yun tells him this with such a kind smile, his heart hammers out of his chest each time she does. Jeong-Hyun doesn't understand why it does that.

When he was a child, he'd been thrown into the dog fighting rings as the opener. The new top dog would snarl at him, foam at the mouth as it barked while he cowered into a corner that did not exist. The men and women who cheered from above him, around him, disorientating as his pumping veins all but thundered with each beat of his heart.

The lights, the announcer yelling into the microphone, the beer cans thrown into the ring to push him out into the centre — and if that didn't work, the electric cow prods they'd jab at him from every side until he leapt into the rabid dogs maw.

That would get his heart racing the same way.

That visceral fear. It was a familiar emotion for Jeong-Hyun. Fear was a friend, a constant, the tremors in his hands, the clenching of his jaws, the scars on the insides of his cheeks.

Seo-Yun's kindness brings him fear and he does not understand but he cannot say this out loud.

Why? He doesn't know.

But when fear is not a constant, other emotions tentatively make way to the top. These, comes with wants rather than needs. Jeong-Hyun finds himself wanting things outside of needing to survive a fight, or of stomaching down the gruel he was given once a week.

Now that he can breathe, he can want and Jeong-Hyun is floored by this.

Seo-Yun provides whatever he wishes. A landed house with an open concept interior, soft clothes for when he is home, things he'd need for the pack of strays he adopted. When he is hurt, she hires the best doctors who stick needles into his inner elbows and with each lazy drop of the thick liquid it makes Jeong-Hyun’s nerves cool into beautiful numbness.

The money he gets doesn’t exactly hinder his wanting either. He can simply flash some of the notes and suddenly everyone bends over backwards.

Everything seems more feasible and within his grasp. His dream of simply surviving now a mishappen...blob.

A blob that has no shape. No colour. No ideals. No goals. He simply fulfils his sister's wishes because he loves her and can clearly see her dream in its vivid colours.

Then, as if the world had finally listened to his incomprehensible thoughts, you came into his life.

It was night time — most of Jeong-Hyun's activities is when the sky is dark — and he'd been accompanying his sister in her discussions with some drug lord.

Swaying favours, swapping fielty, trading a few secrets and cash for more access.

The usual business.

Jeong-Hyun hated the entrance of it. The narrow pathway between two buildings, climbing down the stairs into an even tighter foyer, before being let in. Even then, the tightness does not dissipate.

This gentleman's club — with it's heavy red drapery along the walls that reek of cigar and artificial fruit flavoured smoke — and the yellow and dim lighting that was meant to be moody...

He saw it as nothing more than headache inducing nuisances.

Secrecy was a must considering what goes on beyond these doors.

Gambling, prostitution, drugs, money laundering — the whole nine yards.

But fuck, couldn't they afford a bigger spot?

Seo-Yun glanced his way, then to his curled fingers and white knuckles. They meet their gazes. He offers a grimace, his left eye twitching just slightly, and shakes his head. Being uncomfortable was the norm for him before Seo-Yun. He can perserver. There was nothing here that he wasn’t used to.

The girls here knew better than to lay hands on him.

Or perhaps they were too frightened with how intimidating he was. With his broad shoulders and imposing height, his good eye shining in the low light; he wasn’t shy about flooding his space with his scent either.

Jeong-Hyun didn’t give a shit if it was unseemly or ungentlemanly. If it got the message across that he wasn’t someone you shoved around — he didn’t care if it made noses curl or cheeks turn red.

The girls, however, crowded his sister.

Her scent was more muted despite the core of it being alpha-like. A musk that all alpha’s equally shared as a base note. She grinned, using her tall frame to make them coo as they hung onto her arms.

She’d always been so nice to the whores. Jeong-Hyun rolled his eyes, air escaping through his nose as Seo-Yun tucked some hair behind one of their ears, purposefully ghosting her wrist along their jaw. Their brain basically exploded, pupils growing so wide it made Jeong-Hyun think of a rat’s shimmering eyeballs.

Seo-Yun gives them a lipless, yet coy, curl of her lips. No teeth in sight, demure in their presence. It helps that they're familiar with her cues. Afterall, this was not their first time visiting this establishment.

But tonight was different. Because, once again, this was the night everything changed for him.

They were seated in the VIP area, tucked in a cove to ensure privacy whilst still having a clear unblocked view of the stage. The curtains lifted just as they sat down, Jeong-Hyun spreading his legs as a clear sign of impoliteness. His gun holster peeks from his leather jacket.

There’s the strum of a bass guitar. The echoing twang making him unclench his jaw as he turns his head to face the stage.

You were a sight he’d never seen, and he’d seen plenty.

Gaping bullet holes. Guts spilling with billowing steam as insides meet the outside. Ears and fingers torn apart. Heads splattered open on the concrete. Brain matter swirling down the concrete of a butcher shop.

All that horror dissipates into smoke.

You were dressed like an angel. An angel for gangsters like himself, anyways. No snowy white wings and cherub rosy-dusted cheeks and tight blonde curls.

Instead, you had elbow-high gloves that were beaded with pearls around the seam. The flesh of your thigh has a tantalizing shimmery hue of your skin tone, twinkling faintly as you swayed your hips and shimmied your fur-covered shoulders.

Did you know you pout every time you sing into the microphone? Nothing majorly obvious, but he was enchanted by the colour of your gloss and how soft your lips looked.

He noticed.

He remembers hearing your voice lift every time you smile as you sing. How adorable the crease between your eyebrows was as you crooned to the audience.

When you started to walk off the stage, he had to stop himself from snarling as the alphas in the crowd began cheering and whooping. Seo-Yun’s hand on his nape makes him damn near short circuit.

She’s staring at him with her brows furrowed. It’s his scent. That sharp, spicy, scent of a displeased alpha — he’d been seething so much the girls were cowering next to his sister.

Jeong-Hyun was an uncaring asshole but not a heartless one. He offers a grimace as an apology, uncurling his fists and turning his head around again only to be met with the sight of your gloved hand.

You’re singing. He can lip-read you from how close you are, and he can feel how warm you actually are — from the stage lights most likely. But most importantly, Jeong-Hyun can smell you.

That haunting smell of rare flowers blooming under the moonlight, hidden in their own utopia away from mankind. You smile at him, sweet and coy and insincere. This was just a transaction to you after all.

He brings his knees closer together, the bump of his throat bobs. You rest your hand on the collar of his jacket, leaning down and whispering the lyrics the song into his ear/microphone.

You're new to this place.

None of the other 'entertainers' dared to place hands on Jeong-Hyun. He wasn't fond of strangers invading his space, despised it really, and he had no problems letting it show. Yet, as though under a spell, he does nothing as you brush a hand to his chest.

Your voice echoing sin, your breath causing his mishappen ear to redden as his sullen skin flushes. When you pull back, he expects to see at least a smidge of disgust.

He wouldn't fault you for it. His years growing up inside of a dog fighting ring had not left him looking pretty — his teeth were exposed on the left side of his face. Skin ripped off after a particularly rough day with an adrenaline-pumped mutt. His left eye was milky, perpetually tugged back from the scarring, there'd also been the pinkish scar across his neck. That'd been man-made, and you had probably felt the way it dipped and caved like a canyon across his skin.

The reason he wears gloves was because of the other scars too. Chunks of flesh missing, divots, messily stapled fingers.

Jeong-Hyun was a beast. He expects to be treated like one.

You smile at him. Lips parting to show just a sly of teeth, curled lashes making the stars in your eyes shine brighter as you peer down at him. There's just the slightest wisps of steam coming off your skin from the stage light behind you, but you seem completely unbothered by this.

His pupil constrict into slits when he feels your gloved hand trace upwards, grasping onto your wrist so harshly he sees your brows twinge in pain. Yet, you continue to sing. His grip doesn't loosen, keeping you awkwardly in place.

The show must go on.

He's held your wrist away from his neck, but your fingers stretch and his shock is written across his grotesque face. They stroke faintly on the underside of his chin — a brush, a featherlight touch.

You use his shock to your advantage. As his grip falters, you swiftly slip your hand away and turn your back to him.

"Are you alright?" Seo-Yun speaks from his side. Watching him as he stares at you climbing back on stage, the left side of his face was harder to read. But she can tell he's clenching his jaw, nostrils flaring.

But he wasn't angry. Not the slightest bit.

It was no surprise Jeong-Hyun missed a few important milestones due to his childhood. Of course, Seo-Yun had hired the best doctors to rectify that and for the most part, he's been acclimating just nicely. But complicated emotions always escapes him. Instincts often wins over for Jeong-Hyun.

You were the first person in his life that had made him feel no fear — you made him feel unabashed desire.

Ideally, you'd prefer to perform in a proper bar. One with less shady figures. Where the men with tattoos aren't so shameless in showing off the knife sheaths near their waist. But it's tough to be a singer in this day and age. Bills, bills and more bills.

Not to mention loan sharks.

You don't understand why fate had decided to put you through these battles — to make your father pass and graciously leaving you with nothing but his debts. It royally pissed you off. People tell you to not speak ill of the dead, but fuck him.

You hadn't been rolling in dough before he decided to drop dead but you'd been fine. Living in a small, closet-like, apartment near your college; working part-time here and there and then busking at night. Life hadn't been easy but it'd been simple.

Now? You were here in a room full of the scum of the Earth. You didn't even want to imagine what they do for a living. You were just grateful that you'd been hired here — the pay was enough to keep the loan sharks from banging onto your poor door and splashing red paint all over your entrance. You had to drop out but you can always continue once you survive this.

Because that's all that matters now. Surviving.

So even if you're pulled into the lap of some gangsters lap or have your nape be grabbed at as you sing and twirl around the room in a true Jessica Rabbit-esque fashion, you endure.

Because you'd rather be groped than be dead.

You deserved to be alive, goddammit.

At least you weren't like the other omegas 'entertainers' in the room. You didn't think yourself as above them, not at all, but you were grateful your shady contract didn't mention any backroom work.

Tonight, like most nights, began with the curtains raising to reveal you. The — in all the ways that count — untouchable omega in his sparkling outfit of feathers and velvet. You sing and dance, walk down the stage to the wolf-whistles of many, and make your way through the room.

A few familiar faces stick out. The man with the lip scar grips your waist as you walk past and you look at him from over your shoulder, pretending to be delighted at the sight of him uncrossing his legs to show the tent in his pants.

Pig.

Then, there, at the more VIP tables. A woman in a red dress, surrounded by other omegas all fawning over her. Next to her, an imposing figure.

His profile was so beautiful. His nose had a subtle curve, the tip more round than sharp, and his strong brows complimenting the deep-high crease of his double eyelid. Such a strong jaw, inky black hair tousled but in the way that makes him look like a boy rather than a gangster.

With his legs spread, and his broad shoulders. His gloved hands crossed over his chest. You place yourself between his knees and when he turns you're momentarily caught off guard.

Holy. Fuck.

You'd seen scars before. Missing fingers, milky eyes, nicked lips, tattoos having a streak of pink flesh forever ruining it. This guy must've royally pissed someone off to have his fucked up like that. Despite that, as his good eye processes you're in front of him, he clams up like a shy school girl.

No slimy smirk, no rough hands gripping at your ass, no flare of scent. His cheeks are dusted with pink and his mouth gapes. When you touch him, he stiffens just slightly, but he keeps his hands to himself. Behind you, the bassist's fingers stutter, missing his rhythm for a split second before smoothly recovering.

Leaning in, you continue to sing right into his good ear, feeling the scars on his chest through the thin shirt. Which gives your nimble fingers to the chance to feel the leather straps he had and your eyes widen.

Fuck, he must be some sort of legend here, huh? Sitting in VIP, having a fucking gun on him.

You glance at the woman behind him and you suck in a quick breath as she narrows her eyes at you. The girls around her all shoot you concerned expressions, lips pursing as they ping-pong between you and the scarred man beneath you.

Oh, shit. Were they together or something?

You pull away, attempting to keep your heart calm as you continue to play off this entire act as smoothly as you can. Lifting your hand upwards, just to tease his Adam's apple and then turn away.

But the second your hand is past his collarbones, he reacts. His grip is deadly. Your bones wheeze under the pressure and the leather gloves he wears creak along with it.

Be calm, you tell yourself. He can't shoot you in the middle of a show in front of everyone...can he?

Cold sweat beads down the back of your neck. Still, you keep your composure.

The show must go on.

He looks at your face and falters, so you offer his chin a quick brush as thanks before you swiftly turn to walk away. Your heart racing in your chest. The stage, the stage is safe.

Not if he decides to shoot you from there, you think solemnly. You shoot him another glance, and your gazes clash together. His hands are on his lap, gripping his knees instead. Far away from his gun.

You're safe.

The curtains close and you close your eyes, placing a hand over your chest as you grip onto the microphone stand. A hand grabs at your shoulder and you barely suppress the yelp when it spins you around. It's the bassist, a tall lanky alpha with his wavy hair always neatly slicked back. The entire band is standing, making their way to you with concern so evident between the crease in their brows.

"Are you fucking stupid?"

Instantly, their concern makes you annoyed. You smack his hand away and frown. You put the microphone back in its place and take out your in-ear, sighing tiredly as you walk past them.

"No, I'm not stupid, hyung." He chases after you behind stage, his bass still slung across his neck.

"Then you must be suicidal! Do you know who the hell you just groped?" Your shoulders raise and your cheeks warm. You turn to glare at him, tugging away that stupid feathered boa and scowling.

"I didn't fucking grope anyone! Shit, what's the big fucking deal? I didn't know he had a girlfriend, or wife, or madam, okay?" He shakes his head and takes steps towards you, hands raise as he emphasizes his shock.

"That's Kim Jeong-Hyun. Kim fucking Jeong-Hyun. And the woman behind him? That's his sister, Kim Seo-Yun."

"Ha-Joon-hyung, there's a million fucking Kim's in this country. Gangsters don't have a gangster-pedia, I don't know who they are, nor do I care," you say exasperatedly. Ha-Joon's hands flap around wildly for a moment as he stutters, trying his hardest it seemed to not just grab your shoulders and shake you around.

"Hyung, I'm really tired — " you turn " — and I'm not interested in knowing who they are. I'll just avoid them next time, okay? I've got an early shift tomorrow, see you."

Ha-Joon's hands drop to his side as he stares at you walking away.

"...He's fucking crazy...that kid is fucking crazy..."

A week or so after that, your life continues as normal. Your legal part-time job had been uneventful. Not much customers, and the few that were there had been polite. You hope your shady part-time job was as mundane. Arriving through the back of a seafood restaurant, you greet the dishwasher who'd been smoking as he crouched under a flickering light.

"Hey, got any leftovers from tonight?" he nods, offering you a smile as he stands. "Got some packed away for you already, left it in your room."

You beam up at him, thanking him and slipping under his arm when he opens the door for you. The restaurant was winding down, cleaning up and preparing the drunkards that'll meander in. You greet a few familiar faces, expertly getting out of their way until you finally reach the door that leads you underground.

Your room was tiny. A vanity squeezed in with one flimsy rack of clothes and a poorly ventilated bathroom. You find your dinner awaiting you and eagerly sit down to feast. But then something catches your eye.

Flowers were normal. Not wanted but easy to get rid off.

These were not flowers. You stared at the box for a moment. Chocolates? No. It's a wide box. A lot of chocolates? Sighing, you reach over and stare at the unfamiliar logo on the box, picking up the note it came with.

Keep u safe - K. JH

You blink a few times as you stare at the messy handwriting. When you look at the box again, you are torn between feeling relief that you hadn't pissed him off and feeling a bit scared that you'd apparently caught his eye. When opened, the box reveals a fucking knife. Not an ordinary kitchen knife either. It was a proper fucking knife — for hunting. Animals and people. The blade was shining under the bulbs of your vanity; the handle rough and hefty and dark. You drop the lid, taking a step back only to stiffen as a familiar voice speaks from behind you.

"Fucking weirdo, right?"

"Boss!" You turn and bow at the waist, he regards you with a smile and nod. You straighten up and turn your attention to the fucking knife on your desk sitting all pretty and safe. Next to it seemed to be its sheath, along with some sort of straps.

He bought you the whole fucking set?

"What kind of alpha gifts an omega a fucking knife? Kim fucking Jeong-Hyun, that ugly bastard," he enters the already too small room and you bump into the clothing rack to give him room. He lifts the knife and whistles, eyeing the sharp edge.

"...Do you wanna take it?" you wonder as you watch his face from the mirror. He cringes, tilting his head and hissing through his teeth as he uses the mirror to glance your way too. "And lose my fucking hand? Hell no. If any of his sisters men sees me with this? I'm as good as dead."

He slips the knife into its sheath, carefully putting it back in the box then kicking the fallen lid to your feet. He notices your dinner and picks up the plastic bowl, taking the lid off and taking a sniff. He leans on the table and shamelessly grabs the plastic spoon in the plastic to take a bite.

"I forgot to tell you not to get in their way, my mistake. I thought with a face that ugly you'd be too scared to get close anyways." He speaks through mouthfuls of rice. You lose your appetite.

"Who is he, sir?" you shifted your weight from one foot to another. He chews, swallowing thickly then answers.

"His sisters monster. Her hellhound. Nobody has any idea what hole those two freaks crawled out of, but they've been killing entire fucking gangs in the 3 years they're here. Entire bloodlines." He points the spoon your way, splashing some soup your way and you flinch as some rice sticks to your cheek. You frown, he ignores it.

"3 years, fucking insane! Burning down buildings, painting entire towns red until the leader puts his head on the floor and submits. Fucking brats, she doesn’t even use honorifics when speaking to me. That bitch."

Okay, perhaps you should have listened to Ha-Joon.

"You know I heard that once he cut off someone's arms and legs and left them crawling on the ground? Sicked his dogs on them. Heard that poor bastard's dick got torn off by some German Shepherd."

Your appetite was officially gone and your face was surely a shade of green now. He glances at the box again, shaking his head as he takes another hefty bite of your dinner.

"He give a note or something?" You squeeze the card in your hand and slip it behind you. He scoffs as you shake your head. "Yeah, thought so. 'pparently he's dimwitted. Just stay away from him next time, yeah? Hurts my heart just thinkin' of your pretty face getting ripped apart."

He pats your shoulders as he walks out. Well, there goes your dinner. For a moment, you take a moment to process what you’d been told before you reread the note in your hand.

Keep u safe — K.JH

After that night, like some ironic joke, you haven't felt safe. You feel followed. Everywhere you went, you were certain someone was there to watch. In the beginning, when the hairs on your neck prickled in the middle of your part-time job of serving people food, you thought that it was just paranoia. But then, then, you start seeing them.

Men in black caps and face masks. Women with their phone camera always tilted your way. Just in your peripheral, always avoiding your gaze and smoothly slipping away when they know that you know.

That knife was still in its box, you refused to use it. Keeping it under your bed out of all places. But lately, you swear all you can think about when you're at home is how its just right there.

Keep u safe.

Did he know something you didn't? Was he actually just trying to give you a fighting chance against these pro-stalkers? Or were you losing your goddamn mind and the stress was getting to you?

A month of this and you were already contemplating carrying a weapon that'd just get you in more trouble. What did you know about handling a knife like that?

You were scared of nicking your knuckles whenever you were cooking. Did he think you would just magically understand how self-defense worked?

You knocked on Ha-Joon's door. He's been expecting you so he opens with no trepidation. You had a backpack and a duffel bag, greeting him politely and he allows you inside his home. It's nothing grand but he had a guest bedroom and he pitied you enough.

"Thanks, hyung" he shuts the door behind you and sighs. "Don't mention it."

He was a scaredy cat but he couldn't let you keep this up. You'd been sleeping in the room backstage, putting on more concealer and constantly gazing off into nothingness. One of the band members had offered you cocaine and the second he saw you even contemplating it he knew you were at your wits end.

It's one thing to keep gangsters entertained, it's another to be dirtying your hands with the same filth.

He leads you to your room, hoping that sleeping under the same roof as another person would give your anxieties some reprieve.

You place your things down and sit at the edge of the bed, swaying a bit and he bids you goodnight for now.

When the curtains raise, he's there. Right there. In front of you, looking up at you. His sister was nowhere in sight. Instead, there's a pack of men and women behind of him. They're not even looking at you, they have other omegas or betas hanging off their arms and seem intent on keeping their gaze away from you.

He's staring at you. Tilting his head slowly, the left side of his face kept hidden in the shadows and you try to keep your heart calm but when he looks at you like that — like he wants to swallow you whole.

The lyrics slip your mind, so you play it off by glancing at the band instead and moving your body to the beat.

Breathe, you remind yourself. You're fine, you're okay, you're safe.

The flash of gore erupting behind your eyelids with every blink was not helping. Your imagination runs wild, conjuring the image of a human torso wriggling desperately on the ground as dogs viciously ripped into him as he screamed.

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling sharply as you shakily bring the microphone to your lips. Don't tremble, don't let your voice waver. The boss was going to cut your pay if you fuck up.

When you turn to face the crowd again, Jeong-Hyun isn't looking at you anymore. He's signing to the man closest to him, his movements short and concise. The man, who wore sunglasses, nods and then stands. He disappears into the crowd.

You slip down from the stage, as per your routine, and feel instantly trapped. The pack of his men were like maze walls, cold and uninterested. When you approached, they curl their lips in a quick huff, turning their head away and your hand hangs in the air dejectedly. The prize at the end of the maze was obvious. He was waiting for you, looking at you from over his shoulder as you feebly attempted to find someone else anyways.

It was beginning to look pathetic. Every time you did attempt to head over to the leering alphas in the back, you found long legs blocking your way.

Fuck.

You put a smile on your face and float to his side. He doesn't smile, doesn't leer, he fucking blushes. Your brows twitch but you place a hand on his shoulder and move to sit on his lap. He instantly moves to keep you steady, hand floating away from your waist and you wonder if the stalkers were truly his doing.

What kind of mobster is he? Surely a 'hellhound' would be more vicious in their pursuit. You press your chest to his shoulder, curling one hand behind him and brushing his untainted skin. He faces you and his eye was glimmering like molten gold.

When you brush under his jaw — being wary of his neck — he lashes tremble. His gaze softening at once. You experimentally cup his cheek, and he all at once leans into your hold; like a puppy.

You're stunned.

Keep u safe.

There's no way these strange men and women were because of him. It's not like he's the first person to send you gifts — although he is the first person to send you a fucking knife as a gift — and you do interact with dangerous people nightly. Perhaps he really did mean well. In his own weird way. You continue to sing on his lap and he looks up at you like you're the moon.

Monster? Him?

Perhaps the sleep deprivation and working yourself to your bones is starting to cloud your judgement but you reach behind and guide his hand closer.

He can feel it. The shape of the sheath and hilt, just under the slit of your long-dress. Not an ideal place, it’s too high. If you attempted to use it, the fur coat you wore would get in the way and you'd be wasting precious seconds. He flicks his gaze to your thighs and you can feel his gloved hands lift your dress. You squeeze your thighs, eyes widening in alarm but that deadly grip keeps you still.

He pulls the dress up and slips it over your unarmed thigh. The fur coat you wore is keeping it all concealed, so he slips his finger underneath the top band around your thigh.

Too fucking tight, Jesus Christ.

He tugs and your thighs jerk. He fixes it one-handed, seamlessly loosening it and tightening it just right. Your leg tingles in relief. The lower band is still the same, so he loosens it and tenderly strokes the hexagonal pattern that pressed into your skin. Then he fixes the knife, pulls it down so the hilt won't get stuck and just as you finish your song he slips the dress back in place and his hands float away.

When you stand, his eyes flutters close when you brush your wrist across his cheek; he takes a deep inhale and stares at you. If he could, he’d put your scent in a bottle. To savour forever. That mountain peak, that valley of rare flowers — his and only his.

Jeong-Hyun stares up at you. Honey and milk-coloured eyes glowing like the moon.

There's flowers waiting in your room this time. Dark red flowers, an unusual bouquet of exotic flowers. You shut the door behind you and inspect them, noting the card slipped between the petals.

Pretty like u — K. JH

This was a significant improvement from the knife. Your thighs prickle at the memory of his touch and you shake your head. Sitting down, you lean in to take a whiff and the blend of scents makes your ears warm. That base, a woody blend of oak and ash; a constant burning ember.

It smells like Jeong-Hyun. Kim fucking Jeong-Hyun.

He was strange. From his scribbly handwriting to his muted self; the scars on his face and body; the bashfulness he exhibits; the attentiveness he provides you with.

Those big hands adjusting the gift he gave you. Silent, admiring, courteous.

You place your arms on the desk and melt onto it, brows furrowed.

There’s no way you would ever catch yourself falling for him. You weren’t jetting to be some helpless omega ensnared in some mob romance. This wasn’t going to happen. You could imagine fucking him or being sweet with him, but could that actually happen?

You’ve had enough with loan sharks and now weird stalkers.

You just wanted to survive.

Shutting your eyes, you hide your face in your arms.

Just survive.

Everything will die down soon enough. Still, as you move to remove your coat and undress yourself — the sight of the knife holstered to your thigh as you stand naked in the mirror, it stirs something in your hindbrain. Your inner-omega, that stupid little shit, was incredibly pleased. Goosebumps spread as you remember his touch and you inch closer to the mirror.

You slip a finger under the strap and shudder. The flowers scent had permeated through the tiny room and you feel like he’s here. All over you. Close enough to feel how he burns.

Bowing your head, you curse under your breath. Slick was beginning to appear and you can’t risk stinking up this room. It’s a stupid risk and you aren’t fucking stupid. Not a damsel omega in distress.

Your stomach howling in hunger distracts you enough. Reaching for your casual wear, you hurriedly dress and shove the knife into your backpack. You glance over at the flowers as you open the door.

“...Fuck.”

The bouquet box is small enough to fit under your arm but not small enough to be inconspicuous. So you don’t flinch when the guy who guards the backdoor of the restaurant asks if you need him to dispose of it.

“Nah, these are way too nice!” you chirp out. At this, he pauses and raises his thick brow. Flustered, you bid him goodbye and rush to Ha-Joon’s idling car.

Pretty or not, you know how people would see it. An omega accepting an alphas gifts, twice now, was an obvious sign that the courting was being accepted. Ha-Joon’s displeasure at the sight of flowers was so obvious you send him a pleasing look he disregards.

“You’re really losing your head...”

“I’ll throw ‘em out! But not here, okay? What if he sees I do and he turns me into a human stick?” Ha-Joon’s face turns white and he mutters that you have an active imagination. But your lame reasoning has him reluctantly nodding so you count it as a win.

Unbeknownst to you, the sight of that bouquet under your arm had already made Jeong-Hyun’s heart flutter. He watches as Ha-Joon’s car drives off, hidden in the shadows as he takes special notice of his license plate.

You were accepting his gifts. His knife and his flowers. Jeong-Hyun felt his lips twitching and he pushed himself off the rough walls to continue keeping his eyes on the car. A lightness in his step that dissipates as he takes notice of an unnerving sight. The headlights of a car in the alleyway across from him.

Rationale should tell him this was most likely just a coincidence but his instincts bare its teeth. The car pulls out and goes along the same road that Ha-Joon’s had. He huffs through his nose, brows furrowed.

Trouble.

Jeong-Hyun’s knuckles whiten as he imprints the car's license plate to his memory.

Danger.

When it escapes from his sight, he turns sharply on his heel and makes his way to his own car. He gets inside, grinding his teeth together as he fishes his phone out from his jacket.

Keep u safe.

#s3thwrit3sstuff #male reader #reader insert #male reader insert #gay reader #male!reader #yandere character #yandere x male reader #yandere x you #yandere x yn

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aringofsalt · 8 months ago

Text

you know where i'll be

Tommy finally headed back over to his own side of the court, jogging backwards as he waved goodbye to Jee—show off.

"He nice," Jee announced, and Buck couldn’t help but agree.

"Yeah, Jee, he’s very nice."

And his opinion was totally not biased by the fact that Tommy had stripped off his cut-off hoodie as he went, revealing muscles that flexed enticingly as he threw it at his friend’s face.

—

Buck and Jee-Yun meet Tommy on a basketball court. No ankles were broken in the writing of this fic.

—

Evan “Buck” Buckley/Tommy Kinard | 2227 words | G

on ao3

#911 #911 fic #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy fic #my fic

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caroandcats · 8 months ago

Text

since we already know Buck and Jee-Yun have a scene together, i need Jee to be wearing a 'big sister' tee-shirt so badly and to have Buck finding out that way. we didn't get any scenes of madney announcing their first pregnancy and i need it this time around.

#i'm begging #let me see buck finding out about it #let me see henren being excited for them at the announcement!!!#please please please #madney #evan buckley #*#911

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k-star-holic · 2 years ago

Photo

Kim Dae-ho: "No Remodeling Cost" (Homes)

Source: k-star-holic.blogspot.com

#Yang Se-hyeong #Yuno #Park Ji-min #Kim Dae-ho #The Tiger: An Old Hunter's Tale #Park Na-rae #TVXQ #Jang Dong-min #Jeong Yun-ho #Announcer #Kodi

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no-goodbyes-no-regrets · 2 months ago

Note

Happy prompts? Say no more!

Buck watching Tommy play with Jee-Yun and/or Baby Boy Han in Madney’s backyard and deciding that he has to figure out the secret to mpreg ASAP.

big man, tiny kiddie coming right up!

(did i scroll through several lists of Korean baby names just for one throwaway line in this fic? why yes, yes I did)

Future with you (also on AO3)

Rating: G word count: 1392

---

They're in Maddie and Chim's back yard, little Jae-Hyun only a little over two weeks old and so tiny he all but disappears in Buck's hands. His little hand too small to even fully wrap around his uncle's finger.

He's adorable and Buck is completely in love with the little boy.

He'd taken him from Maddie the second he'd walked through the door, both to give her a break and to have a buffer between him and his parents.

Things were better but not perfect.

But today everyone is on their best behaviour to celebrate the newest addition to their family.

The weather is nice, his mom is busy fussing over Maddie, Chim escaped into the kitchen half an hour ago, and Tommy is sitting next to him and softly strokes the baby's head with one finger.

Life doesn't get much better than this.

"I think you're his new favourite person after mom." Tommy says, trying and failing to tear his eyes away from the boy dozing in Buck's arms.

"I don't know about that." Buck says with a chuckle. "I think he's just happy to be held. Jee was like that too."

"Uncle Tommyyyy" Jee whines as if on cue and starts tugging at Tommy's hand. "I wanna fly!"

"In a minute princess. I'm just hanging out with your little brother now."

She gives him an unimpressed huff.

"You can do that later. I wanna fly nowww!"

Tommy bites back a laugh.

"Why don't you come sit with us for a little while? We can fly later."

She rolls her eyes in a way that makes her look like Maddie's mini me and Buck bites his lip and focuses on the little boy in his arms to stop himself from laughing.

"Babies are boring." Jee tells them but lets Tommy pick her up and put her in his lap anyway.

She's a little obsessed with being in Tommy's arms, a feeling Buck can relate to all too well, and sometimes he thinks she might be the happiest member of the Buckley-Han family to have Tommy back where he belongs.

"That's because he's only little. When he's older you can play together." Tommy explains but Jee isn't convinced.

"I want a puppy." she says. The 'not a little brother' goes unsaid but not unheard.

"Yeah I always wanted a puppy instead of a brother too." Tommy tells her and that gets her attention.

"You have a baby too?"

Tommy chuckles.

"He's 8 minutes older than me actually." he moves her in his arms so he can take his phone out of his pocket. "That's him on the left." he shows her a picture Buck remembers taking at the badge vs badge basketball tournament a few weeks ago after someone had suggested putting Tommy on the PD team and pretend to be Rocker.

Rocker's team had been convinced it would work, while he and Luca had done their best to point out the differences between their partners and why they'd get found out in no time.

"He looks just like you." Jee notes.

"That's because we're twins." Tommy explains. "My mommy had two babies at the same time."

Jee looks at him like she's not sure if he's actually telling the truth but doesn't have the necessary information to prove him wrong.

"Is he a fireman too?"

"No he's a policeman." Tommy tells her, deciding to keep things simple. "Like Athena."

"Girls can be police too." Jee says like she's explaining the mysteries of the world to him.

"Of course. Girls can be anything they want."

"Girls can fly too, right uncle Tommy?"

"Of course. There are a few girls who fly where I work."

"I can fly too!" Jee announces and climbs off his lap. "Come on uncle Tommy! We can fly!" she spreads her arms and starts running around the yard, until Tommy gives in and with a quick kiss and a "duty calls" to Buck, scoops her up and swings her around while she screams in delight.

"He's good with her." Philip Buckley says a few minutes later and Buck jumps. His father has apparently learnt how to appear out of thin air and sits down next to him, both of them looking at Tommy and Jee.

"Yeah... Jee loves him. She's obsessed with flying ever since he told her what his job is."

"I have to admit, I found that one of the more interesting things about him when I first met him too. He said he'd show me around the birds some time."

Buck does a double take. He's still not completely used to the fact his parents know and like Tommy, and approve of their relationship to the point of his father now apparently making plans with him.

"Though with everything that's happened lately, I figured he had other things on his mind than giving me a tour."

"Y-yeah... he won't mind though. He loves talking about the helicopters."

"Maybe next time. Your mother and I are flying back home in a few days. Maddie and Howie have everything under control with this little man." Philip says and tickles little Jae's tummy.

They sit and watch the little boy for a minute until Jee's happy screaming pulls their attention back to her and Tommy.

He's pretending she's getting too heavy and he's too tired to hold onto her and they crash onto the grass together.

They're both laughing as Tommy rolls onto his back and Jee climbs onto his chest to convince him to get up and fly with her again.

Buck winces on his behalf when he notices one of her knees digging into his stomach, but Tommy doesn't even flinch.

"Uncle Buck! You need to come fly too!" Jee decides and Tommy only just manages to move her off his chest before she uses him as a trampoline.

"I think uncle Buck is a little too heavy to fly, princess. He had two pieces of cake earlier." Tommy holds up two fingers.

"I only had two small pieces. Uncle Tommy had two huuuuge pieces." Buck replies. "And he had a chocolate muffin for breakfast. He needs to be careful or he won't fit in the helicopter anymore."

"Are you calling me fat?" Tommy mock glares and turns to Jee. "I think uncle Buck wants to sleep on the sofa tonight. Or in the car."

Jee giggles and Tommy puts an arm around her and pulls her into his side, pretending to whisper something in her ear while looking back at Buck who just laughs.

In his arms Jae is starting to wake up and notice he's not in his mother's arms and decides to let the world know he's not happy with the situation.

"Give him to me, I'll take him inside to Maddie and save her from your mother."

Buck gently transfers the little boy to his father's arms and tries to push away the feeling of emptiness as Philip gets up and walks into the house with him.

"Uncle Buck!" Jee yells his name again and he sees her and Tommy on their backs on the grass. Apparently they've moved on from flying to cloud watching.

She holds out her hand for him and Tommy does the same.

"Come on babe, we've already seen one shaped like a tiger."

"Wow a tiger? Well I can't say no to that, can I?" He gets up and joins the two of them on the grass, leaning over to Jee to kiss Tommy, laughing when she pushes them apart and tells them kissing is gross.

"Just wait until you're older and you find someone you love and want to kiss all the time." Buck tells her, but Jee insists that's never going to happen.

They spend the rest of the afternoon watching the clouds and making up stories to go with them, and when Jee is deep into a story about the unicorn she found, Buck lets his mind drift to a day in the hopefully not too distant future, where it's not their niece he and Tommy are entertaining, but a child of their own.

He turns his head to the side and meets Tommy's eye over Jee's head and they share a smile.

He mouths "I love you" to Tommy, and makes a mental note to invite Hen and Karen over for dinner soon.

#Anonymous #bucktommy #tevan #bucktommy fic #tevan fic

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stray-kaz · 3 months ago

Text

Seven Minutes : a Yun Ga-min x f!reader oneshot

Summary: You were invited to a party and dragged your study group friends along with you. In spite of the protests, you figured it was time to do something that wasn't curriculum revision or trying not to die. However, you didn't expect the party games to involve something as archaic as spin the bottle mashed with seven minutes in heaven. Otherwise known as, a closet.

A/N: The characters in this are roughly in their mid teens, so nothing crazy is gonna happen. Maybe a little excitement, no actual sex. Move along if you're under 16.

"Why?"

"Remind me why we're doing this again?"

"My dad will kill me if I'm home late again."

"If I wanted to get drunk, I could do it at home."

You rolled your eyes at the chorus of complaints ricocheting around you. Only Ga-min was quiet. He walked next to you in the gathering dark, his ever present backpack seemingly glued to his back. He gripped the straps so tightly you worried he'd snap them completely.

The backpack was the same, but the clothes were different. He'd switched his school uniform for a hoodie and jeans, and you kept missing the way his eyes slid to you in your sweater and butter soft jeans, your shoulder bumping his arm frequently as you walked.

Hee-won linked with your other arm, dragging Ji-woo at her other side. You glanced at the girl's grumpy face, then beyond her to Jun and Se-hyeon, who looked like he'd rather get kicked in the teeth.

"We need tonight" you announced firmly, your shoulder brushing Ga-min yet again. "A night away from books won't kill any of us and nobody said you had to get drunk, Jun. Just don't headbutt anyone."

Jun rolled his eyes at you and stuck out his tongue. You felt a hand brush yours and glanced down to see Ga-min gently touching your pinky finger with his to get your attention. You met his eyes, curious.

"What exactly is going to happen tonight?" he asked, sounding a little anxious.

You shrugged.

"Illegal drinking. Party games. Dancing."

He pushed his glasses up and rubbed at his eyes.

"Will you be drinking?" he asked quietly, his eyes huge behind his lenses.

You shook your head.

"No. Someone has to look after these knuckleheads and make sure nobody passes out."

Ga-min nodded slowly and shoved his hands in his pockets. Your shoulder continued to bump his arm.

Ga-min would not let go of his backpack. No matter what you did or said to persuade him, he wouldn't release his study materials. So far, you had stopped Ji-woo from using a boy's teeth as knuckle dusters, pulled Jun away from the alcoholic kitchen and gotten in between Hee-won and a group of boys who looked like they wanted to kidnap her.

Now, a girl you didn't know was going around, whispering in ears and beckoning. Without thinking, you grabbed both Ga-min and Se-hyeon by the hand and dragged them after you in the direction the girl was headed.

"What?" Ga-min wondered, glancing past you at Se-hyeon, who just shrugged and looked worried.

As soon as the three of you stumbled into the cozy living room, you understood. A group of high schoolers sat in a loose circle in the middle of the room, and a weighted bottle tilted round in the center. You were about to bolt and take the boys with you, but then you were spotted and beckoned to join the circle. You muttered to yourself and shuffled into the gap, sitting down with a friend to either side of you.

Ga-min's grip tightened on his backpack straps, if that was even possible. Se-hyeon glanced guardedly around the circle, his gaze landing on you and then Ga-min beside you, flicking between the two of you anxiously.

"Do you know how to play?" one of the other boys asked you, leaning forward with a hand on the thick end of the bottle.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded.

"Uh huh. Who doesn't?"

A second later, you felt a tug on your sleeve and bent your head closer to Ga-min's.

"What is this game?" he whispered in your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

Goosebumps rose on your skin and the fine hairs on the back of your neck lifted in response. You did your best to ignore this and opened your mouth to answer him.

"You spin the bottle and whoever it lands on, you go into the closet for seven minutes in heaven" you said softly, explaining as quietly as you could.

Ga-min stared at you, brown eyes impossibly wide.

"Seven minutes in heaven?" he repeated. "That means..."

"Kissing" you interrupted quickly. "You have to kiss at least once. That's the rule."

You watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard and heard the straps of his backpack creak as he once again increased his grip.

"Hey, you spin."

You looked up just in time to see the bottle spin towards you, butting up lightly against your knee. Ga-min had never focused so intently on anything in his life as you reached for the bottle and spun it hard. It looped around and around several times before slowly rolling to a stop, the open end pointing directly at Se-hyeon.

Se-hyeon's eyes were massive in his face as he regarded you, uncomfortably aware of Ga-min's gaze fixed on his face as he stood up and held out a hand to you. You took it, your fingers sliding easily into his palm. You glanced back over your shoulder as you were led to the large closet on the opposite side of the room, and were shocked to find Ga-min staring at you, his usually friendly eyes dark and intense. He wore the expression that he usually reserved for fighting. You opened your mouth, but before you could speak, you were ushered into the dark insular space with Se-hyeon. The doors closed.

"Time starts now!"

Someone banged on the door and then all was silent except for your breathing and the unsteady shuffling of Se-hyeon's feet.

"I bet this wasn't where you thought you'd end up tonight" you said lightly, trying to joke.

"Hmm" Se-hyeon murmured back. "You don't have to. Kiss me, I mean. I know you don't have a crush on me or whatever."

You shrugged even though he couldn't see you well.

"It's just a game, Se-hyeon. It doesn't have to mean anything. I know you like Hee-won. Consider it practice?" you suggested.

You heard his sharp intake of breath and bit away a smile in the dark.

"You know?"

"I think even Ga-min knows."

He muttered something unintelligible to himself you couldn't even attempt to decipher. You took a step closer and the toe of your shoe bumped his. You reached up to his shoulders and used them to pull yourself closer, patiently waiting.

"Practice" Se-hyeon mumbled to himself, and then his lips touched yours.

Steady and careful, tentative, his mouth was so gentle on yours. You had to admit, your breaths quickened a little and your grasp on his shoulders dug in a little bit. He pulled away slightly and then kissed you again, his hands gingerly finding your waist and holding on.

His teeth bumped yours and you grinned at his flustered apology before softly kissing the corner of his mouth. Embarrassed, he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, catching yours in the process and indirectly drawing you back in with a surprised gasp.

A minute or so later, you broke apart, foreheads resting together, panting lightly. A crack of light appeared in the closet door, slowly widening as it opened all the way to reveal you standing close together, eyes closed. As you walked out to whistles and jibes, Hee-won wandered into the room. You reached for her hand and squeezed it before guiding it to Se-hyeon's.

"Ask him to kiss you" you told her. "You won't regret it."

She just stared at you as you rejoined the circle, right back in your place next to Ga-min, whose hands were now tightly clamped fists on his thighs. You wriggled nearer and leaned lightly against his shoulder as the bottle was spun a few more times, but he didn't budge, his eyes fixed straight ahead on the wall across from the circle.

Some time passed and then it came your turn to spin the bottle again. Ga-min pretended he wasn't paying any attention, but he was watching with steely eyes as it bumped to a stop against his foot. He slowly turned his head to find you already looking at him, your cheeks suddenly pink. They weren't pink when you got up to kiss Se-hyeon, but they were certainly pink now. Whatever pink stuff you were wearing on your lips matched your face, too. His eyes softened a little; he couldn't help it, it was you.

You got to your feet and pulled him with you, leaving your hands joined at the tips of your fingers as your heart lurched into its new home in your throat. The room behind you was oddly quiet as you entered the closet again, this time with Ga-min.

"Did you like it?"

His quiet question came the moment the door closed on you and you felt the heat climb higher in your cheeks.

"What?"

He sighed heavily.

"Did you like kissing Se-hyeon?"

You swallowed. There was no point in lying to him, and you didn't want to anyway. You had liked kissing the other boy, sure, but your heart hadn't clawed at your ribs like a wild animal like it was doing now. And neither of you had done anything yet.

"Yes. It was nice. He's nice."

An angry huff met your ears and you heard him move for the door. Before you could think, your hand flew out to grab his, stopping him. He hesitated, his palm rubbing yours.

"But he likes Hee-won" you murmured. "We're just friends. And it was just a game, Ga-min. A game."

You could feel him staring at you.

"Was a game" he mumbled. "You said it was a game. Is it not a game to you now? Do you want to be in here with me? Is that why you turned pink?"

You squeezed his hand in yours.

"All that studying has finally paid off" you teased gently. "You are my favourite, Yun Ga-min. My favourite, you know?"

The air rushed around you and then his forehead was pressed to yours, his fingers tangling with yours, breath mingling in the space between your mouths.

"I'm happy with you" he whispered, and you closed your eyes.

You let your free hand wander up from his hand to his wrist, up the soft fabric of his hoodie over his forearm, onto the curve of his shoulder and then finally onto the side of his face. Your fingertips lightly tapped the arm of his glasses and he immediately leaned into your touch. He let you guide his head down, so slowly, until he felt your lips brush his in a featherlight kiss.

Heat flooded his face, his pulse took off and he held your hand so tightly your knuckles creaked in protest.

"Sorry" he mumbled against your lips, loosening his grasp.

"Yun Ga-min" you breathed. "Shut up."

You grabbed a hold of the dangling strings of his hoodie and tugged hard, pulling him further into you. Your mouth took his again and a soft sound escaped between you as he responded clumsily, his other hand digging into the plush sweater hugging your hips. You pushed against him, warm and eager for his shy kissing.

He whispered your name and your hands released him only to push into his hair instead, messing up the perfect style and holding on as he tucked a foot between yours, his leg following suit to prop between your thighs in a move you wouldn't have thought him capable of executing. You pulled your head back to stare at him through the faded dark and his eyes widened in response.

"No?" he asked, frantic. "Is that not okay? Is -"

You tugged him back, one hand still locked in his hair, the other fisting the front of his grey hoodie as his thigh shifted uncertainly against you. His lips parted in surprise at the touch of your tongue, and you licked carefully past them, invading his willing mouth. Ga-min wouldn't bother to deny it if someone accused him of whimpering in that moment, both of his hands now clutching at your hips, sliding between your sweater and the soft smoothness of your jeans.

Your hands slipped to his shoulders, where they ran over those infernal backpack straps. Huffing against his mouth with frustration, you shoved at them until they slid down and the backpack dropped to the floor with a weighty thud. Grinning with triumph, you kissed him again and ran curious hands over his shoulders and down his arms, feeling the muscles left by training and fighting, and finally back to his hands, where you felt his gentle grip on yours. That is, until you let go and fed greedy hands up under his hoodie and the t-shirt beneath, making him gasp as you touched the tensing muscles of his stomach.

That's how they found you, mouths fused together, his fingers flexing against your body and your hands shoved up underneath his clothes, desperate for any inch of skin you could reach. You both blinked in the sudden light and pulled away from one another, Ga-min's glasses slightly askew on his face. He slowly bent down to retrieve his backpack, but then you just took it from him and slung it onto your own shoulders. Ga-min blinked at you in surprise as he reached up to prod his glasses back into place.

"No studying for you tonight, Yun Ga-min" you announced firmly. "You're coming home with me."

Tagging: @writingmysanity

#study group #study group x reader #kdrama x reader #yun ga min #yun ga min x reader #yun ga min x f!reader #liss writes #yun ga min x female reader

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