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jellesreid · 4 months ago

Text

Inexperienced

In which Spencer mentions to his girlfriend a conversion he and Derek had about sex that leads to Spencer’s first time with reader. (smut!)

masterlist

word count: 2.1k

tags: early seasons Spencer, inexperienced Spencer, glasses Spencer, love, couple, first time, sex, oral sex, blow job, male receiving, fingering, fem reader, small plot, porn without much plot, aftercare, cuddling, falling asleep together, sharing clothes, Spencer turned on by you in his clothes, pulling hair, messy, talking through it, small praise kink

warnings: 18+ SMUT! Oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), Spencer finishes in reader’s face.

notes: I think this is the first time i’ve ever written a blow job so if it’s bad i’m so sorry. Hope you horny people enjoy.

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Your legs were draped across Spencer’s lap as he ran a hand up and down them unconsciously as you were both engrossed in a crime documentary.

“Morgan and I got into a conversation about umm oral sex today. He asked me how my first experience was,” Spencer said without looking away from the TV and stuttering slightly about what terminology to use that would be less crude.

“Giving or receiving?” You replied wanting to know where this was going.

“Receiving.”

“So you were discussing blow jobs,” You asked.

“I suppose yes,” Spencer said, his face going a bit red.

“And how was your first one?” You asked.

“That’s the thing… I haven’t had one before.”

You looked over at him, “Never?”

“Never, I told you on our third date that I was a virgin,” Spencer said finally looking at you.

“Yes, but I didn’t know that included those kinds of things. You’ve never had anything or done anything to anyone?”

“Nope, nothing.”

“Are you curious? I don’t need us to have sex by the way I’m fine without it. I’m just checking in to see where you’re at,” You gave him a comforting smile.

“That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

“Okay,” You paused the TV, “take your time.”

“I think I’d like to try it?” Spencer said but it sounded more like a question.

“You’d like me to give you a blow job?”

Spencer coughed awkwardly, “Yes…please, only if you’re comfortable of course. And I would like to do something for you.”

“I’m comfortable, Spence, I’d be more than happy to do that for you. What would you like to do to me?”

“I’m not sure,” He bit the inside of his mouth.

“That’s okay, We can start with you. Did you want to do it now?” You asked.

“Maybe later tonight if you’re staying over?” The man had a hopeful smile on his face.

“Of course, I’ll stay you know I adore waking up next to you .”

——————

“Are you tired?” Spencer asked as you began to undress for bed.

“A little,” You said, pulling one of his oversized t-shirts over your almost naked body.

“Okay that’s fine,” He said back fiddling with the page of his book.

“Did you want something, Spence? We need to get this communication thing right and to do that you have to speak to me.”

“I know, I was just wondering if you wanted to do it now,” He asked shyly.

“Do what?” You seemed confused before remembering your conversation from earlier, “Ohhhh, you want a blow job now.”

“Umm,” he rubbed his neck, “Yes, you’re really pretty and you look good in my shirt…”

“You’re turned on by me wearing your clothes?”

“Well yes, you look good in my clothes.”

You grabbed a hair tie from the bedside table on the side you slept on and pulled your hair back into a quick messy ponytail.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked his voice cracking towards the end.

“Putting my hair up so it doesn’t get in the way.”

“You’re actually gonna-“

“Spence if you want this then I want to do it,” You reminded him.

“Okay,.. uhh yeah I want it.”

“Do you want to take my shirt off?”

Spencer nodded his head quickly already reaching out toward you. You moved closer to him until his hands made contact with the hem of your shirt.

He took his time lifting your shirt off slowly while your hands rested on the waistband of his checked pyjama bottoms.

Once your shirt was fully off his eyes were glued to your breasts while his fingers gently brushed against each swell.

“You’ve seen them before baby,” You giggled, you always enjoyed how he touched your chest and you couldn’t wait for him to finally touch you in other places.

“I know but they’re beautiful,” He massaged your nipples with his thumbs.

“Can you take your pants off?” Spencer obeyed you almost immediately getting up from the bed and removing them.

He took his boxers off not even a second later. His cheeks flushed a light pink at how hard his dick was as it sprung out of the boxers, “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? Come here.”

Spencer took a couple of steps to reach the bed where he was now standing in front of you. You knelt on the bed reaching your neck up and placing a kiss on his lips, “You’re perfect.”

“Thank you,” He replied in a timid tone.

“Sit,” You pat a spot on the bed before standing up.

Spencer once again obliged as you got on your knees in front of him, “Are you okay?” You checked in with him.

“Yeah, I think so, are you?”

“Yes babe I’m good,” He was the sweetest man ever of course you knew he would check on you too despite knowing you’d done this more than once, “Don’t hold back with anything, I like having my hair pulled.”

Spencer’s eyes widened a little, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Are you ready?”

Spencer nodded before your lips met the tip of his dick. You left a small kiss there, his pre cum spreading onto your lips.

You heard him whimper as your mouth closed around him.

After just one suck, Spencer was taking deep breaths, moans leaving his mouth every time he opened it.

“Oh my god,” He managed through breaths.

You placed your hands on his thighs taking him deep and sucking harder. One of his hands was firmly gripped the edge of the bed while the other had made its way to your hair which he pulled but only lightly.

You hummed before swirling your tongue around the tip and licking up the underside.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can hold it,” He groaned but that only egged you on more.

“I can’t-“ He cut himself off with a moan as you swirled your tongue faster.

His dick twitched inside your mouth indicating he was close and just as you were sure he was about to cum in your mouth he pulled out of your mouth as he orgasmed. His cum going over your face and breasts.

“Spencer!”

“Oh my god, I'm so so sorry that wasn’t meant to happen.”

“Why didn’t you finish in my mouth? Now I’m messy,” You groaned, you didn’t want to make too much of a deal out of it because you didn’t want him to feel bad.

“I didn’t know if you’d want that…”

“Of course, I didn’t really want it over my face,” You reached for the tissue box on the bedside table.

“Did you know semen actually has many health benefits, especially for the skin? Some people believe it helps with ageing and acne but there is no scientific proof to support it,” Spencer rambled between breaths.

“Are you saying I have bad skin?” You laughed.

“What no! Of course not.”

“I’m teasing honey, next time please just finish in my mouth,” You got up from your knees climbing up onto the bed and laying on her side of the bed beside him.

“Can I still… You know, do you?” He asked after nodding in response.

“Now?”

“Please?”

“If you want to, I don’t want you to feel like you have to though,” You ran your fingertips over his arm.

“I don’t feel like I have to I just want to do it.”

Spencer started moving so you bent your knees and opened them to make some room in front of you.

“You’re so beautiful,” He said running his thumb from your hip to the top of your low-rise black lace underwear.

“Thanks, baby,” You reached a hand out running your fingers through it.

“Can I take those off?” He asked rubbing the waistband of the panties.

“Yes, whenever you like,” You smiled, biting your lip, you had thought about this for a while, his hands were one of your favourite things about him just from the way he held you or even from the way he tracked the page when he read so you knew after this you’d like them a lot more.

He pulled the underwear off throwing them to the floor. He rested his hands on the apex of both of your thighs opening them a little more.

“What do you want me to do next?” He asked before placing some kisses on your lips,

“Touch me… please.”

Spencer ran one of his thumbs over your folds from the entrance and upwards but stopped before reaching your clit, “Like this?”

“Uh huh,” You squirmed in your place on the bed making Spencer’s grip tighten on your thigh.

He moved his thumb away but immediately replaced it with his middle and ring finger making the same motion as before.

His two fingers grazed your clit, pushing down on it lightly, “How do you like it?”

“Anyway,” You groaned.

“Circular motion?”

You nodded, “Yes, uh huh.”

He started with slow circles but gradually got faster and harder with it as his confidence grew.

You moaned, “Yes! Spence. Inside please!”

Spencer slid two of his fingers into you stretching you apart.

“Spencer! Slow ow,” Your eyes widened.

He removed them, “Sorry! I got too confident.”

“It’s okay you were doing so well, just start with one I’ll tell you when I’m ready for two.”

Spencer spread your wetness around your folds coating his fingers in it, “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He slid one finger inside of you, moving it in and out slowly to help you adjust, the tip nudging your G-spot when he pushed in.

“Add another one!” You panted through moans.

Spencer did as you wished pushing it inside. Stilling both fingers for a moment until you were ready to have him move them.

The feeling of his fingers being buried in your warm walls was something he could get addicted to easily. He could also get addicted to the way your face contorted with pleasure when he hit the right spots.

“Move, please,” Your eyes fluttered shut as you spoke.

Spencer moved his fingers slowly until he found your G-spot. Your moans gave him the confidence he needed to speed up.

Once he added his thumb into the mix using it to rub circles on your clit while still stroking the spot inside of you, your moans got louder and you helped him by moving your hips to ride his fingers.

“I’m so close baby,” You groaned between breaths.

Spencer felt your walls tighten around his fingers as he moved them in a hooking motion sticking to the same pace though he remembered reading something about women not needing a man to go faster when they are close but to stick to exactly what they’re doing.

“Spence!” You called out before sucking in a deep breath as you came around his fingers.

He knew not to remove his fingers immediately so he slowly pumped them in and out to help you through your orgasm until you got your breath back.

Once your eyes opened and your breaths had regulated he gently pulled his fingers out of you earning a whine from you at the loss.

Spencer inspected his glistening fingers and blushed, “Did I do good?”

“Oh so good babe, really good,” You propped yourself up on your elbows to kiss him.

“Can I try it?” He nodded his head towards his fingers.

“If you want to?”

Spencer cleaned his fingers off in his mouth, groaning at the taste, “You taste amazing, I can’t wait to do that again. You’re so beautiful like this, sweat glistening on your skin, messy hair, your eyes sparkling.”

“Stop,” You blushed, “I love you.”

“I love you too, but you should probably go to the bathroom to help reduce the risk of a UTI and then we should try to get some sleep,” He said stroking the side of your hair.

“I know honey, just give me a second.”

Eventually, you left the bed to go and everything you needed before you went to sleep.

When you came back into the bedroom Spencer was lying in bed without his shirt on and the main light off.

“I like your hair when you actually wash it,” You joked getting in the bed next to him.

“I always wash it! I just put gel in for work, it looks more professional,” he scrunched his nose as the bridge of his glasses fell down.

“It looks greasy honey,” You kissed the side of his head.

“I’ll put less in,” He groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into the crook of your neck, “Goodnight,” He left a kiss near your collarbone, “Thank you for tonight.”

“You don’t have to thank me, I love you, sleep well,” You kissed the top of his head and waited for him to fall asleep before you did.

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darlingdaisyfarm · 4 months ago

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Heyyy doll, I was wondering if we could have more content on Ford having a breeding kink. PLEASE omg PLEASE! Or maybe with Stanley too? I just really like all the stuff you write and I need some good breeding kink content in my life.

(I’m sorry if this was a weird request)

Stan & Ford’s breeding kink headcanons

a/n: i was writing smth angsty, but i lost inspiration and suddenly i remembered this was sitting in my drafts unfinished. and.....uhh im so sorry, horniness won....so today i bring you this.. a shameful descent into filth...there are some headcanons in here that aren’t strictly about breeding, but honestly, at some point, i lost control :) dont blame me!! anyways posting this and running away........

tags: nsfw, smut, literally just filth tbh absolutely filth, breeding kink, pregnancy mention, mating press, cum play, cockwarming, cycle tracking (ford being pervy)

STANFORD

꩜.ᐟ he can’t help it. he doesn't know when it became so necessary to keep you full, but now it’s the only thing that makes sense

꩜.ᐟ he wasn’t always like this, Ford used to be so cautious and careful. but then he came inside you once, and suddenly it was all he could think about. ruining you. stuffing you. leaving you dripping. it’s become a biological imperative

꩜.ᐟ pre portal paranoid!Ford would definitely use it as survival mechanism. it would calm him down, keep him sane. the only way he can fall asleep again is knowing you're full of him (it needs its own fic)

꩜.ᐟ another pre-portal paranoid!ford thought: you don't know how much you help him actually. how he'll appear from a 20-hour shift in the lab, his brain literally pulsing, body trembling, hands unsteady, you don't know how desperate he is by the time he reaches you. he needs to bury himself inside just to breathe again.

꩜.ᐟ pre portal ford! thinks he'll go insane if you wont let him fuck you

anyways back to our lovely old man ford

꩜.ᐟ you gasp when he pushes you onto the desk, moan when he spreads you open and tremble when he whispers in your ear that you're ovulating and he's going to breed you. and despite the fact that you always smile and call him a pervert, your soft walls squeeze him so tight every time he says it

꩜.ᐟ Ford makes u take it and he doesn't stop until he knows you're completely full of him. he keeps his hands on your stomach, pressing, feeling how his cock reaches deeper inside, as if he could ensure that you stay filled just the way he need you to be

꩜.ᐟ and. . . then the shame sets in, the guilt

꩜.ᐟ when after, you stroke his hair, kissing him, telling him it’s okay. but it’s not. it's damn not

꩜.ᐟ because Fords knows the truth. he knows he'll do it again. and that knowledge alone is enough to ruin him

꩜.ᐟ and now he, regrettably, memorised your cycle. at first, it was “unintentional” simply observations noted in passing, as any man of science would. then it became smth bordering on obsessive. now, he knows exactly when you're at your most fertile. he knows that when he touches you on those nights, you react differently, your body welcomes him differently

Ford knows he should be disgusted with himself for using this knowledge the way he does. he should resist. but he doesn't

꩜.ᐟ goddamn, he knows it’s invasive and it’s not something he should do without asking, but he's a creep. he couldn’t stop himself

꩜.ᐟ he knows when you’re ovulating, knows all the signs. and he loves how your body is begging for it without you even realising

꩜.ᐟ he marks it in his journal, writes down when you get your period, when you complain about cramps, when you seem unusually sensitive and most importantly when you’re fertile. he knows the window, the days he have to make love to you if there’s going to be any chance of conception

꩜.ᐟ but honestly Ford never used to care about kids, his mind always was busy with smth else, for example, saving the galaxy. he never thought about having children because his life was always too dangerous, but now every time you have sex, it’s on his mind, wondering if this is the time, if he'll push himself deep enough, letting his seed coat your insides and stay

꩜.ᐟ you mentioned it once, offhand, said, ‘Ford, what if we had a baby?’ and he almost fell to his knees and thanked you for even considering it

꩜.ᐟ now he fantasies about it, you pregnant, your cute belly swelling, your breasts growing heavier. he wishes to read to you every night, read to the baby, talk to them through your skin

꩜.ᐟ Ford can't help but imagine a child with your eyes and his hair, or perhaps the reverse. a little one clinging to your leg while you cook breakfast, or sitting on his lap while he reads to them from one of his journals, simplifying the complex concepts so they can understand. . . ahhggghhgg

꩜.ᐟ congratulations, its affecting him during sex now. he can't stop thinking about coming inside you without restriction, without fear, about letting it happen naturally, so you would have begged for it yourself. he caught himself saying things, very filthy things, about breeding you, about wanting to watch you swell with his child and the worst part is how much you respond to it

꩜.ᐟ Ford knows that when his sweetheart is ovulating, the cervix moves higher. its softer too, more open. and last night, he damn felt it. pressed the head of his cock right against it, pushed deep and when you gasped, cried out and your glossy eyes widened, he knew you felt it too, he told you he was right at your womb, told you he was filling it and you just whimpered. god, it made him lose his mind

꩜.ᐟ you told him he was too deep but he couldn’t stop, even growled while hiding this pathetic sound in your neck. he had to press into it until he was buried inside you. because for him, he was claiming you, touching the most intimate part of your body, a place only he should reach

꩜.ᐟ Ford doesn't really know what to say when you keep asking him why he's so intense lately. why he stares at you so much. he can’t tell you it's because he's counting the days till your next fertile window

꩜.ᐟ i just know he's a pervert, big pervert, even if he hides it behind “im just observing”, nah. so Ford always spreads you open after. he hates himself for it, but he just have to watch it drip out, see how much of him is still inside you. and fuck, you get embarrassed, squirming and trying to close your thighs but Ford doesn’t let you. he needs to see. needs a proof that he was there

꩜.ᐟ and. . . he didn’t mean to go down on you after finishing inside, but he had to. had to taste the both of you. you were still so sensitive, fluttering and weeping, but that didn't stop him. he had to lick you clean after he came inside you. doesn't matter how filthy it is, it’s. . .uh, it’s scientific! really! making sure it’s all there! making sure nothing’s gone to waste!

he looked good with your mess on his face tho

꩜.ᐟ every time he comes into you as deep as he can, he barely holds back from falling on top of you after after, he just cant resist when you look up at him, dazed, and whisper, ‘again?' smiling and swaying ur hips

꩜.ᐟ the other night, Ford caught himself thinking, what if he kept you so full of him, you couldn’t walk straight? what if he fucked you so thoroughly your legs shook for hours afterward? he loves the idea of your body remembering him, carrying the imprint of him

꩜.ᐟ you asked him to try a new position, smth called the 'mating press.' he didn’t know what it was and felt foolish, having to ask, but when you explained, his brain went blank. he couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, he had to try it right then. he folded your legs back, knees by your ears, and pushed so deep, deeper than he knew was possible

꩜.ᐟ he came inside you like that, immediately. couldn’t stop. held your legs up and just. . . stayed there. plugged you full, thrusting deep, while holding you close as you cried in his shoulder. he groaned and whined loud as fuck too

꩜.ᐟ “mating press was a mistake. an irreversible, devastating mistake.” he attempted it once, under the illusion that he would be able to maintain some semblance of control, but the second he felt his sweetheart that deep, the moment your body trembled like that. . .

꩜.ᐟ you told him once, in the early hours of the morning, when you were still sleepy, that you'd never felt so safe as when you're lying in his arms after he fucked you full. that you need him like this. need him to fill you up and keep you warm, to hold you close. Ford has not stopped thinking about it since

꩜.ᐟ he thought he was sick for needing you this much. for wanting to stay inside you even after he had already finished, just so he could feel you clench around him again, so he could keep himself as deep as possible for as long as possible. he thought he was sick. but when he did it for the first time, pressed his weight down onto you, stayed buried inside you, let his cock soften while you pulsed around him, you didn’t protest, only held him tighter. you wanted it too. and it made him smile against your skin

STANLEY

꩜.ᐟ jesus fucking christ, do you even know what you do to him? what you have been doing to him every day since the moment he met you?

꩜.ᐟ Stan swears to god, doesn’t matter if you've fucked once, twice, a hundred times, all he ever think about is your pussy and how good you feel every damn time

꩜.ᐟ he finds it amusing how you always call him a dirty old man, even when secretly you like it too. hell, you love it! all that tough talk, but you go all soft the second he pulls you on his lap

꩜.ᐟ Stanley realised this kink when he spent three months out at sea with Ford. three whole fucking months. do you have any idea what that does to a man? what it does to him? as soon as he got home, he threw his duffel on the floor, grabbed you, carried you straight to the bedroom (god i love this idea sm)

꩜.ᐟ he literally couldn't keep his greedy hands off you. didn't even think about a condom, didn't ask if you were on anything, just threw you on the bed, yanked off your panties, kissed you senseless and. . . no, didn’t just fuck you. he made love to you. so gently snd slow, so deep, praising you, holding you in his arms. kissed you all over, told you that you're perfect, that he missed you. Stan wasn't gonna stop until you were begging him for more. and damn, you were clinging to him, keeping your legs locked around him after, wouldn’t let your Stanley go. cried a bit more, kissed his neck, said he's never allowed to leave again. so he didn’t, he stayed inside you. stayed as long as you needed him to.

꩜.ᐟ that night, he filled you up real deep, held you tight so you'd know it was real, that he was here and he wasn’t going nowhere. you felt so fucking warm he didn’t wanna pull out. now you're his home. his everything

꩜.ᐟ so after that, he never knew he'd get so obsessed with it. caught himself wondering last night, were you fertile? did it matter tho? he didn't care, just wanted to keep you full, even if there wasn’t a chance

꩜.ᐟ he's not sure if you're trying for a kid or not, but he tries not to overthink about it too much. you want it, he wants it, and even if its not about kids, he'd still be fucking you just the same, still be filling you up until you're dripping with it, still be pushing it back in with his fingers and telling you to keep it there, hold it there, “good fucking girl”

꩜.ᐟ and yeah, Stan loves pushing it back in with his fingers. when he pulls out and it starts leaking out of your pussy, he just always uses his thick fingers to push it back in. keeping his thumb on your overstimulated throbbing clit, two fingers sliding his cum right back inside. he tells you it’s so it doesn’t go to waste. so you don’t miss a chance. you never stop him though

꩜.ᐟ loves it when you’re too dumb to speak. just a lil ragdoll for him, taking everything he gives you. yeah, you’re smart, but not when he's done with you

꩜.ᐟ he needs to keep you filled up, stuff you with himself every chance he gets, doesn’t matter if you're on the pill or no, doesn’t matter if you want a kid or not. i mean, it’s not even about the baby, but about knowing the he could. he could get you all knocked up if he wanted to, put a little part of himself inside you and make you his in every goddamn way

꩜.ᐟ because why’s it so good? why’s it so fucking addictive?

꩜.ᐟ with time, Stan noticed its getting bad. real bad. he can't stop thinking about you swollen with his kid, walking around the shack all round, telling everyone it’s his baby growing inside you. Stan literally sweats. god, you’d look so good pregnant. . .

꩜.ᐟ he started paying attention to your behaviour. counting days in his head whenever you mention cramps or headaches, making mental notes when you buy pads or complain about bloating. he's not a damn scientist like Ford, but he's not stupid either, he knows what it means when it’s been a while and you’re not bleeding

꩜.ᐟ in his dirtiest fantasies he wants to catch you when you’re ovulating, corner you against the wall, yank your clothes down, and fuck you so deep you can’t help but take it. he needs to finish inside you and keep you full, hold you there after, make sure it sticks. hell, he'd do it over and over and over until there’s no chance it didn’t work

꩜.ᐟ you asked Stan once if he thought he'd be a good father and he couldn’t answer you. although, the thought of you round with his kid makes him feral, he's scared he'd end up like his old man. he's sure he'd be a shitty dad, Stan thinks he's too rough and loud, too much like him. but. . . if you wanted it. if you asked him for a baby. fuck. he'd thank you for trusting him with smth like that. for letting him make a family with you

꩜.ᐟ also every time he thinks about you full with his seed, it happens when he's fixing the vending machine, holding a wrench in his hand. jesus. and every time, he has to take a 'smoke break' just to calm down

꩜.ᐟ no matter how rough or how gentle he has been, he just has to lay on top of you after. chest to chest, breath to breath, his warm cock still buried in you. you like it too, wanting him to stay there forever. you play with his hair when he's like this, running your fingers through it, scratching his scalp, whispering the sweetest things he ever heard. you tell him he's the only one you've ever wanted, the only one who made you feel this safe and good

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toruro · 2 years ago

Text

— ✧ back to december

a part of flower me with love ... an hhu unit x flowers collection !

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), fluff, angst (resolved!), best friends to strangers to lovers

description: it's been four months and twenty-two days since you've last talked to mingyu, however your mother still thinks you two are friends. you don't have the heart to tell her what really happened, and now you think it's time for you to move on. (un?)fortunately for you though, mingyu seems to have other plans.

inspired by back to december by taylor swift!

tags: miscommunication, unrequited love (not fr though), big dick mingyu, sex in a car >_<, riding, fingering, pet names (angel, pretty), creampie :3

w/c: 4.3k

a/n: happy birthday @gyuswhore!!! this fic is for em but if not em and ur reading it i hope u enjoy too. this is like 2/3 plot and 1/3 smut if anyone cares

Normality is bliss.

That’s what you used to tell yourself. That’s what you used to believe.

Normality was bright mornings, crisp air, slow walking down the main street, inhaling the ambrosial scent of freshly roasted coffee beans, and slipping under the fairy lights that hang over the door. It was the warm sound of the overhead bell ringing, permeating laughter in the cafe from all customers, and daisies in a pot by the entrance.

Normality was Mingyu. His bright laugh as you approach the counter, sweet voice as he playfully asks you what drink you’d like, to which you roll your eyes and respond with, “You already know, don’t you?” It was the chuckle he would let out, the wink he flashed at you, murmuring the words, “It’s on the house” (because with Mingyu, it was always on the house), the thanks you give him before stepping back.

Normality was the latte he handed you, rough yet ginger fingers brushing over your palm as he warned you, “Careful, it’s hot,” and the giggle you let out when you stepped back and asked how his morning was going. It was Mingyu telling you nothing special happened yet. It was Mingyu suggesting that you two hang out at the field after he’s done with work. It was you grinning and agreeing in an instant, but only under the condition that he picks you up after your class.

Normality was bliss until four months and twenty-two days ago.

Now, normality hurts like a bitch.

Your mother glances at you from the corner of her vision as you rummage through the fridge. “What’re you looking for?”

“Some bread,” you murmur. “Was really craving a tomato sandwich … Damn, we’re seriously out of white bread?” you ask, giving up with a sigh as you close the door and face her.

She shrugs. “If it’s not in the fridge then I guess so. We’re low on produce too actually … I’d be surprised if you find tomatoes in there too,” she says. You purse your lip, shuffling through the different rows of cabinets to find something to throw together to take for lunch as your mother continues to speak. “You think you could stop by the grocery store after class today and pick up some stuff?”

“Yeah sure,” you reply casually.

“Ah, I wish Mingyu still stopped by with the groceries,” your mother says, and the sudden mention of his name has you halting your movements as you reach for a croissant, before you inhale deeply and go back to doing your own thing.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, clearing your throat after the word comes out horsley.

“You know why he stopped doing that?”

You try not to think about how you still haven’t told your mother that you and Mingyu don’t talk anymore.

“Uhh, I guess uni’s been getting to be a lot of work,” you tell her. “We’re both taking way harder classes so, uh, I guess he doesn’t have the time.”

“Hmm, yeah makes sense. You’re always swamped up in that room of yours ‘cause of work too … haven’t seen you two hang out in a while actually.”

You chew on your lip, staring down at your little bag for lunch and the croissant that sits inside. You wonder if you’ll even have the appetite to eat anything today after this conversation.

“We’re just busy. It’s harder to talk now.” It’s not entirely a lie. Grabbing the bag and picking up your backpack, you turn to face your mother who’s scrolling on her phone. “I’m gonna go now. My first class is starting soon.”

Now, normality is huffing as you get into your car, wishing you had a coffee next to you, but being too full of cowardice to head over to the cafe.

(“Go to a different cafe!” is what common sense would tell you, but common sense doesn’t listen to a love that has been betrayed. No other latte tastes the same, but you know that’s only because no other latte has been made by Mingyu.)

You pick up groceries on the way home.

Now, normality is staring at the daisies that are on display as you walk through the front doors of the store and reminiscing. It’s wondering what once was, and what could have been, if you decided to keep your silly feelings to yourself.

Normality is regretting. Regretting ever opening your mouth and telling Mingyu four months and twenty-two days ago that you loved him, and that you had loved him for not one, not two, not five, but ten damn years, because that was when you two met, and you always loved Kim Mingyu, but you should have known that not once did he love you back. Not how you would’ve wanted anyways.

Normality is wondering. Wondering if Mingyu would still be dropping off groceries if you hadn’t told him that you loved him, if he hadn’t told you he didn’t know what to tell you. Wondering if he thinks of you now. Wondering if he has any regrets. Wondering if he’s okay, but you lost the chance to know the answer to that question four months and twenty-two days ago. Wondering if—

Tomatoes. You need to buy the tomatoes, and the bread, some green beans, spinach, bell pepper, and more cheese, milk, maybe some butter, and—what was it that your mother told you to get? Oh, some strawberries.

You need to get all of these things, but there were no daisies on the list, so how did a bouquet full of them end up in your cart? You tell yourself you picked them up because they’re on sale, but you know the real reason is because you miss Mingyu.

Directing your attention back to the list you were sent on your phone, you hum lowly to yourself as you push your cart through the aisles. Checking items off your notes app, you exist with just yourself, your tomatoes, and fresh daisies as you try and finish these groceries before it gets too late into the evening.

Staring at your screen, you almost don’t notice that the dairy aisle isn’t empty until you bump into someone. “Sorry,” you mutter quickly, “I—” The words get caught in your throat when you see just exactly who you’ve hit.

Averting your gaze quickly, you wonder if Mingyu will respond, but you choose to scurry away quickly instead, because as cowardly as it sounds, you’re not sure if you’re ready to hear his voice again.

You’re not sure why your heart beats so fast when you escape into another aisle. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t read the look on his face for the brief second that your eyes met.

(Ten years of being best friends and you somehow don’t know what he’s thinking. Can four months and twenty-two days really change a person that much? Or did you never know Kim Mingyu in the first place?)

When you get home, your mother asks you where you got the daisies from. You tell her Mingyu gave them to you, because you want to convince her that you two are still best friends, and maybe—just maybe—you’re trying to convince yourself of it too.

You decide to buy a latte five days later. Mingyu never worked the evening shifts, so you’re confident you’ll get one of the other’s as the barista if you walk in past 6pm. Seokmin’s always nice. He doesn’t make the latte’s as sweet as you like—more specifically, as sweet as Mingyu made them—but he’s kind and always cheery.

When you walk in today, the pot by the door is empty. There are no more daisies, and you wonder if this is what has become of normality.

Your eyes glaze over the familiar setting, breathing in the sweet, rusty smell of coffee, and you smile watching all the cafe-goers laugh along with each other in their seats. All is going well, and you’re telling yourself that maybe this new normal isn’t too bad. That you’ve lived with it for four months and twenty-seven days, and so you can live with it longer and—

Your heart plummets when you see who's working the register today.

Maybe you really never knew Kim Mingyu, because you swore he hated the evening shifts, but here he is with a neatly tied apron, smiling while he talks to some girl across the counter. And his toothy grin is so bright and you aren’t sure if you’re seeing things correctly because everything sound has turned to a white rush in your ears and your vision blurs because you are once again awarded the painful reminder that you are in love with Kim Mingyu.

You thought your heart broke right in two back in December, but you hear it crack in this moment and realize that this was the final blow.

There are tears in your eyes, and you don’t know how long you stand there, until you hear your name. Seokmin is calling for you, and when you look up there’s no girl at the counter and it’s just Mingyu and Seokmin staring at you.

And you wonder briefly if you should be glad that Mingyu looks concerned but you don’t have time to dwell on the fact because Seokmin calls for you again—“Hey, are you okay? You—you’re crying”—and fuck, you’ve just humiliated yourself, so with fat tears hitting the dark wood ground you turn on your heel and rush out the door.

You keep thinking and wondering and regretting and you hate it all because regret has become normality, but regret is not a bliss.

You walk down the street, and you keep walking and walking and walking until you realize you forgot where you parked the car but none of that matters because all you’re thinking about is Mingyu’s smile, and how he doesn’t smile at you anymore. And so you walk faster and cry a bit harder until you’re so far down the street you don’t even know where you are anymore but it doesn’t matter because you don’t know who you’ve become.

And there’s footsteps thudding behind you—are you going to get kidnapped now? Fuck, you’ve already had the most horrendous sequence of events that could possibly happen to you in the span of five minutes, and now it’s going to get worse? If this goddamn kidnapper could just target you any other day, then maybe you wouldn’t whip around with tearful eyes, shouting into the dark: “Please don’t kidnap me! I’ll go with you any other day but—Mingyu!?”

His tall figure is hunched over, hands over his thighs as he heaves for breath, craning his neck to look up at you. “Kidnap you? Why in the world would I kidnap you?” he asks through harsh breaths. “Fuck, you walk so fast,” he groans, finally standing up as you furiously wipe your tears away in an attempt to actually make sense of this situation.

“I—” You want to reply, but then it hits you that this is the first time Mingyu has spoken to you in four months and twenty-seven days, and the thought is dizzying. “I don’t know,” you tell him, because you really don’t know. You don’t know a damn thing.

Mingyu looks at you with a look that you, once again, can’t seem to read. “Sorry, I—I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, and anyone would be able to see through the lie but you’re hoping that Mingyu doesn’t pry any further. He doesn’t move, nor does he say anything. “You can, uh, go back now,” you add, rubbing the back of your neck as you stare at the ground. “I’m okay.”

“You—you were crying.”

Opening your mouth to protest, you realize you can’t refute him now. Not when it was so painfully obvious. You choose silence instead, hoping that your apprehension will be enough to drive him away, although it only seems to egg Mingyu on.

You don’t expect the words he blurts out after a few moments of thickness.

“You don’t know how much I wish I could go back to December and change things.”

“Please don’t lie to me Mingyu,” you tell him, and he can just hear from the way you say his name that you are desperately pleading with him. When you finally look up at him with glossy eyes, he wonders how in the world he let things get this far.

“I’m not lying, I—I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“What do you mean by this, Mingyu? What is this?” You cover your face and begin to sob, but not without gasping out words between heavy breaths. “Please don’t do this to me, not again.”

And when you uncover your face and look at him again, he’s got some bewildered look on his face, and you can’t tell what he’s going to say next.

“The girl,” Mingyu starts to say. “That’s my cousin. She was visiting me at work and—”

“It’s not about the girl, Mingyu!” And that’s a bit of a lie because some part of it is about the girl but it’s mainly about you and it’s mainly about Mingyu—mainly about the two of you.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and speaks. “Sorry, I—you’re right.”

Silence once more, before you calm your breaths and shake your head. “You should head back, Mingyu.”

“No I—wait, I just—I’m not lying. I regret everything I did in December.”

“Ming—”

“No, please listen to me. I regret not telling you how I actually felt, but I was so confused,” he tells you, repeating your name. “I was confused and fucking terrified because if things didn’t work out for some reason, then I would’ve lost my best friend but—but I was fucking stupid and lost you anyways. And you know, I wanted to reach out. I wanted to talk to you so bad but then like last week, when I saw you in the grocery store, and—daisies.”

“Daisies?” You furrow your brows.

“Daisies. You had a bouquet of them in your cart,” Mingyu tells you, taking a step forward. “And I know how much you love daisies. Your favorite flowers in the world. I saw them in your cart and thought to myself, fuck, I missed my chance, because I thought you had them for someone else and—”

“They weren’t,” you blurt out. “I-I even told my mom you got me them,” you add bashfully, “because she doesn’t know we stopped … yeah.”

There’s a silence that sits between you two, but you’re starting to realize that silence has become normality and you are no longer content with that.

“Mingyu, do you love me?”

He doesn’t hesitate to respond. “More than you love daisies.”

You laugh through your drying tears. You laugh so hard it makes you cry no longer because of pain but because of happiness, and you shake your head and throw your arms around him. “Kim Mingyu, that is a bold statement.”

“What can I say?” he grins. “I’m a bold man.”

“Where was that bold man for the past four months and twenty-seven days?” you snort.

Mingyu raises a brow. “You’ve been counting?” For a moment your expression falls but then he shakes his head and smiles. “Don’t worry—I’ve been too.”

You two are quick to head back, Mingyu begging Seokmin to hold the first alone for the weekend before taking the wheel of your car and driving you both to your favorite field of daisies.

“Are we going to have sex for the first time in your car?” Mingyu asks with a chuckle, climbing into the backseat from one end while you pile in from the other.

Giggling, you meet his lips for a kiss as soon as the door shuts behind him, arms winding around his thick neck to bring him close. “The way you said that insinuates there we’ll be having more sex after this,” you tell him with a smile before diving back into another tongue twisting kiss.

“Hell yeah,” Mingyu groans against your tongue as you adjust to situate yourself over his lap, hips pressing dangerously close to his. “Gonna fuck you every day if I can. If you can handle that,” he adds.

You roll your eyes, pulling back to help yourself out of the cardigan and shirt you’re wearing. “What makes you think I can’t handle it?”

He only flashes you a toothy grin and quickly glances down at his groin area before winking at you. “You’ll see.”

“Kim Mingyu, you are a little shit,” you conclude despite the way your tummy churns at his insinuation, throwing off your shirt as Mingyu helps you out of a bra.

“I’m not little, that’s for sure … fuck, you’ve got the prettiest tits in the world,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your torso to pull you closer so he can plant his lips on the soft flesh. His mouth is warm, tongue tracing constellations over our skin before enclosing one of your nipples with his lips.

Slowly, his tongue traces circles around the stiffened nipple, teeth grazing over it ever so gently before biting down with slight force. “Ah!” you moan out, head thrown back as your hands travel up his neck and into his hair, fisting the thick, dark locks. “‘m sensitive, ‘gyu,” you tell him, shaky-breathed as he pulls his mouth off your tits with a slip popping sound.

“Sorry,” he says with a lazy smile. “Your tits are so nice,” Mingyu murmurs, bringing a hand up to squeeze over your other breast, tweaking the nipple in one hand as your hands begin to play with the hem of his tight fit shirt. “Fuck, can’t believe we didn’t fuck earlier. You know how much time we could’ve saved?” he says, pulling away just for a moment to peel the shirt off his body, revealing his firm, thick torso.

“I wonder whose fault that is?” You roll your eyes.

Mingyu frowns in response. “Don’t remind me … angel, take off your pants. Wanna finger you.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, because in an instant your hands are at the waistband of your pants as heat rises to your cheeks upon hearing his words. Just the thought of Mingyu’s thick, longer fingers inside your aching cunt is enough for it to pulse around nothing as you throw your pants to the side and shove your panties to reveal your core.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs under his breath as you readjust yourself over his lap so that he can have better access between your legs. Slowly, he brings one hand up to your exposed cunt, bringing his middle finger to circle around your gaping hole. “Shit, you’re so wet, angel … so wet for me.”

“Just for you ‘gyu, just for you” you gasp out when he sinks one finger in, rough pads rubbing against your warm, gummy walls.

Now Mingyu occasionally entertains the outrageous idea that he’s well composed, but he’d be a fool to deny that, even though he can turn you to mush in the palm of his hand, you also have him wrapped around your little finger.

You only have to beg him once or twice for a second finger before he’s giving in, wanting nothing more than to spoil you until you can’t even remember what you were asking for in the first place. And naturally, when you finally tell him that you’re ready for more—ready for his cock—he can’t help but grin and comply.

“You think you’re ready?” he asks, slipping his fingers out and shoving them into your mouth so you can taste yourself.

“You think I’m not?” you mumble around his fingers. You pout a little and Mingyu chuckles, leaning in to give you a wet and sloppy kiss before lifting his hips a little.

“You’ll see angel … help me take this all off,” he tells you, and you’re quick to grab at his waistband and yank his pants and boxers down at the same time.

“What are you talking ab—oh.” The words dry on your tongue when you see his cock spring out, from underneath his boxers, the thickness slapping against Mingyu’s abdomen.

It’s fat and long and veiny in all the right places, heavy balls resting at the base of it, the reddish-pink tip smeared all over with his shiny, translucent white precum.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says with yet another chuckle, watching your face as you gaze down at his cock in awe.

“I-is it gonna fit?” you ask incredulously, eyes glancing back and forth between the smirk on Mingyu’s lips and the long length of his cock. Mingyu just shrugs and smooths his hands over your hips, your stomach, and then your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Your stomach flutters, cunt growing more and more needy and wet as the seconds tick by, and the way Mingyu’s tongue flicks against yours only heightens the feeling. When he pulls away, he settles his hands over your waist and directs you right over his cock, and something in you swells with pure arousal with the next words he says.

“Don’t worry angel, I’ll make it fit. You trust me?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, steadying your position as Mingyu uses one hand to guide his heavy length so that the tip points upwards and presses right against you.

“Fuck yeah,” he hisses, and you moan as you feel him sliding against your folds in a slippery, sticky mess. “old onto me, yeah angel? If you want to stop just—”

“Say the word,” you finish for him, placing your hands on Mingyu’s bare shoulders as an attempt to steady yourself, breath hitching as his length pushes into your entrance. “Oh shit, ‘gyu!" you cry out as you begin to sink down on him.

Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes—you can’t even fathom how, even after all his prep, Mingyu still feels like he’s nearly splitting you in half.

“Fuck, pretty—you’re so fucking tight,” Mingyu grunts, helping you nearly impale yourself on his cock. “Fucking fitting inside you so well,” he praises as he bottoms out inside of you, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder as you take deep breath.

Mingyu knows he’s big—knows it’s hard to fit him inside of you—and he’s feels so fucking lucky that he has you—so willing to take all that he’s giving—sucking him in and whining for more. He waits a few moments, only listening to the way your heavy breaths start to grow lighter, until you’re whimpering a soft, “‘gyu.”

He wastes no time in jerking his hips upward, shifting inside of you and battering the inside of your soft walls. You bite down on his shoulder as you push your hips down to meet his thrusts, choking back soft sobs as you feel his cock kiss your cervix with each movement.

“Holy shit,” Mingyu grunts as you begin to bounce on his lap, his length slipping out of you halfway before being plunged right back in with a sopping mess growing on his thighs.

You whine loudly at the overwhelming pleasure that takes over your body, lifting your head up so you could look at Mingyu with your mouth agape and hair stuck all over your burning face, a sheer layer of sweat starting to envelope both your bodies.

Soon, both of your movements begin to grow erratic and sloppy, hips jamming into each other so hard you’d be surprised if you even have the ability to walk tomorrow. You now know why Mingyu was concerned about fucking every day.

“You g’na cum soon pretty? Cum all over my cock? I can feel it angel, can feel your pretty cunt squeezing me.”

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you manage to gasp out, “Yeah, ’m gonna cum—feels so good, so full, so—fuck!”

Mingyu’s cock pulses inside of you and that’s when every detail seems to be heightened to a thousand—as your orgasm racks through you, you seem to feel every curve, every vein, dragging in and out of you to such detail that it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you scream out his name.

Mingyu watches you fall apart, surrendering to bliss, and the way your hips are sporadically swiveling over his, your pussy’s wetness coating and creaming his cock has him going into a frenzy. Frantically, he begins to snap his hips faster up into you, your soft moans of overstimulation pushing him to his end faster than he can ever imagine. Watching the way he slides in and out of you is enough to have him cumming, shooting his hot, sticky load inside your warm cunt.

Riding out the last of his orgasm with soft rolls of his hips, Mingyu sighs contently at the feeling of you milking him dry, the both of you looking down at the wet, dirty mess you’ve made where the two of you connect, his cock still throbbing inside of you.

Both of you finally look up at the same time, grinning at each other, and you flop forward resting your head on his chest as he slowly combs his fingers through your hair, other hand running up and down your back.

“Why’d you start working the evening shifts?” you ask Mingyu after your breath has finally leveled. “I thought you hated those.”

“I did, but you stopped coming in the mornings, and I figured it was because of me. I hoped that maybe you would start coming in the evenings so I asked my boss to change my regular shifts just in case.”

“Oh wow, you really do love me.”

“I already told you I do! Even more than you love daisies, remember?”

#svt smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #svt fluff #svt angst #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu smut #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu angst #📝 writing

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justyourusualash · 5 months ago

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His Fault | A.H.

summary: the team calls hotch, but he doesn’t pick up. is he alright?

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: mention of the stabby incident, making out, sorta public, teeny weeny bit of crying, its a tiny bit worrisome in the beginning but then its super hilarious, the horizontal tango hit an unexpected commercial break (coitus interruptus)

wc: 720

a.n: guys this is my first hotch fic. its not the indian-american!reader ive been working on. im just trying to put myself on the tag soo here we gooo

“Uhh… guys?” Emily started and the rest of them looked at her with questioning gazes.

“Yes, Emily?” JJ asked, getting worried.

“I’ve been trying to call Hotch, and he isn’t picking up. And considering what happened the last time he didn’t pick up our calls…”

“He got stabbed in his own apartment.” Derek interrupted.

“I think we should go to his apartment and make sure he’s okay.” Emily finished, glaring at him.

“She’s right. But, how will we get in?” Penelope’s arrival was signalled by the jingle of her bracelets.

“Rossi has a key.” Spencer pointed out.

“For emergencies!” Dave exclaimed.

“This is an emergency! We don’t know where or in what state our boss is!” JJ argued and hearing that, Dave relented.

They entered his apartment guns held carefully behind their backs, with Penelope trailing behind them, just in case something was wrong. But, Hotch was not there. “Now what?” Spencer asked, looking around his boss’ apartment.

“Now we wait. If something is wrong we’ll get an indication of it and if nothing is wrong, Hotch will come back and we’ll explain everything to him.” Derek said and everyone agreed.

They waited for about fifteen minutes, when something slammed against the front door and they all brought their guns out again. They then heard the unmistakable sound of Hotch’s keys, the door opened and…

It was her fault that he was half-hard by the time they got to the restaurant, she just looked so good in that dress.

It was her fault that he was completely hard by the time they left the restaurant, she was teasing him so much.

It was her fault that they were making out in the elevator of his apartment building, she showed him a peek of the navy blue lingerie she was wearing just for him.

It was her fault that he was letting her unbutton his shirt in the elevator, she put his hand on her thigh and it was gliding up with a mind of its own.

It was her fault that he all but slammed her into the door of his apartment, she just kissed him so good.

It was her fault that he let her push his shirt off of his shoulders when he closed the door by slamming her into it, she just tasted so-

“Hotch!”

He turned around reaching for his gun on instinct when he realized that it was his team, standing in the living room of his apartment.

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment at 9:30 at night?!” Aaron exclaimed, shielding y/n as he handed her his shirt to put on.

“You gave me a key!” Dave argued.

“For emergencies! Stop snickering, y/n.” He looked behind him and bit his tongue to stop himself from smiling as he looked at her.

“Give me the keys and get out of my apartment.” He plucked the keys out of Dave’s hands and turned around to face his girlfriend. “These are yours now.” He said, placing them in her hand.

“What if you need something and you’re not close to your apartment and it’s closer to go from the office?” Derek asked as a ploy to get the keys back.

“You will get the keys back when I decide that you won’t storm my apartment if I don’t pick up a call from you guys. Now, out of my apartment please.”

He turned around after closing the door to find y/n looking at him with tears in her eyes.

“Baby!” He took her face in his hands, worried. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“You gave me the keys to your apartment!”

“I trust you, sweet girl.”

“We’ve only been dating for four months.”

“It’s long enough for me to trust you with my life, baby. That, and I kinda wanna come home one day and see you standing there with nothing but my shirt on.” He smirked at her as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Oh you horny, horny old man. I love you so much.” She smiled as she reached up to kiss him.

“I love you too, pretty girl” He beamed as they kissed all the way back to his bedroom. It was his fault he gave her the key to his apartment, he just loved her so much.

576 notes · View notes

joonberriess · 2 years ago

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teeth. ☆ j.jk

⋆ TAGS — ghostface!jk, breaking in, TW: non-con to dub-con (oc does NOT consent verbally even if she does participate hence the dub-con), brief knife play, cunnilingus, degradation, misogyny(?), objectification, blow jobs, brief face/skull fucking, fuckin in the woods, unprotected sex, nasty talk by jk, possessive!jk, hints of kidnapping/captivity, fear play, facial, jk is lowkey yandere, iconic what’s your favorite scary movie scene but my style, DEAD DOVE, slight praises, ass n coochie worship cause jk is a ass man certified LMAO, cheerleader!oc, college setting

⋆ WORD COUNT — 4.2k

⋆ now playing: teeth - 5sos ⋆

“Color me your color, baby, color me your car, color me your color, darling, I know who you are,”

The music blared loudly, you hummed under your breath while lining over your lips with a dark lip pencil. The hour was getting closer and you realized you had to speed things up if you wanted to meet with your friends on time (you had been stuck in your cheer uniform ALL DAY). You moved around your room quickly while tossing articles of clothing onto your bed, no outfit in particular on your mind.

You uncapped the red lipstick and ran it over your lips slowly, filling in the blank spaces and blending the two colors to perfection. You decided a white long sleeve tucked into your mini jean skirt would serve as a perfect combo. If you were lucky, maybe that cute college senior Kim Seokjin would give you his jacket to wear. The idea has you smiling like a dummy.

Before you can slip out of your skirt the phone downstairs begins ringing loudly. You could have very well ignored it but you don’t feel like listening to your parents nag at you for not picking up the phone if it happens to be them. “Ugh, seriously.” You mutter and quickly run downstairs to the kitchen.

“Hello?” You softly sigh while twirling a piece of your hair around your finger.

“Hello,” some guy’s deep voice greets you, he says nothing else and you tilt your head in confusion muttering a soft ‘yes?’. “Who is this?”

Immediately you frown in confusion and balance the phone between your ear and shoulder, “Who are you trying to reach?” You pop a piece of chicken from your mom’s leftover casserole into your mouth.

“What number is this?”

“Uhh..what number are you trying to reach?”

“I don’t know.”

You hold back a deep sigh and check the time behind you on the clock, you really don’t have patience for this nonsense. Especially for some weirdo who’s either prank calling or just doesn’t know how to work a phone. “Then you have the wrong number,” you eat another piece of casserole, “it happens, take it easy though.” You hang up quickly before he can utter another word to you.

You had just set the phone down when it began to ring all over again, “Ugh…hello?” You stare at the decorative ceiling in annoyance, “Hello?” You say loudly when the other person doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me? Just wanted to apologize, ‘s all.” He says with a teasing lilt, but it sounds more condescending than anything, “Just wanna..get to know you.”

You ignore the nasty little shiver you get down your spine when he talks to you like that, a deeper part of you is literally drooling over how this guy’s voice sounds but too bad he’s a weirdo though.. Your gut twists uncomfortably as your eyes dart to the side to look out the patio doors. “Okay..well you’re forgiven now, bye.” You go to hang up.

“Wait–if you tell me your name I’ll tell you mine.”

You can’t help your scoff, “Yeah, right. I don’t think so, why the hell would I give you my name? You sound like a total creep right now, you know that?” You huff and open your fridge up for a drink, “Besides, what’s your deal anyways? You keep calling and I’m obviously not who you’re looking for.” You complain while uncapping a bottle of water.

“Because,” he calmly starts, “I wanna know who I’m lookin’ at right now.. Pretty red lips and a tight little uniform on,” he draws out huskily.

You immediately go still, “W-What…how do you..?” you look around the empty kitchen and living room. “This isn’t funny.” You quickly head down the hall to the front door, making sure the locks are set before you go back to the living room and make sure the patio doors are locked as well.

“Never said it was babydoll.” He muses, “Though I do gotta admit, red looks spectacular on you, wonder if you got more around here in your drawers.” He trails off, the sound of drawers slamming close and another opening could be heard on the other side of the line.

You wait with a bated breath listening carefully, you slowly turn your head to look up at the ceiling. There’s a low thumping noise that follows the sounds you hear from the phone. Your eyes slip shut as you try to control the sob that’s about to come out of your throat, “What do you want from me?” You croak in a tiny voice.

“What’s your favorite scary movie sweetheart, hm?” His footsteps are heavy as he starts walking around upstairs in your room.

You blink your tears away and stumble towards the hallway to your only escape route: your dad’s office. “I-I don’t like any scary movies,” you whimper quietly, “p-please, I don’t wanna die.” You sniffle. You can hear him humming in the hallway upstairs now, causing you to duck into the office as silent as you can.

“That wasn’t my question. Time’s ticking babydoll, I’m not exactly a patient guy you know.”

“H-Halloween..!” You whisper-yell, “I like Halloween.”

“Which one?” He asks, you can hear him loud and clear at the bottom of the staircase, “Hm?”

You sniffle softly and back away, “Rob Zombie’s version,” you utter softly and hear him pause in his footsteps. He stands there for a few seconds before he slowly draws nearer and nearer. Your eyes squeeze shut as a terrified whimper escapes your lips, before you can plead with him the door slowly creaks open and a hooded figure stands in the doorway with the phone held up to his ear. You stare at him, the phone slipping from your trembling hand as it slams to the floor with a loud thud.

He tilts his head to the side and raises his gloved hand to wave at you. “Hey there sweetheart,” he purrs from under the mask.

You scream out in fear and knock over the desk chair, you’re lucky as hell your dad has a set of patio doors himself. You slip through the doors and run down the small hill, looking back and forth in time to see the hooded figure chasing after you.

The sounds of leaves crunching and branches snapping fill both sides of your ears. Adrenaline kicks in like never before and has you running the fastest you’ve ever moved in your entire life. If you can lose him in the woods you’ll make it to your neighbors’ in five minutes tops, might even get lucky if you detour to the main road but the hill to climb up will only slow you down.

“Don’t be like that babydoll!” He calls out from your left? Right? You don’t know where his voice is coming from, and quite frankly you’re too scared to look. You hear his heavy footsteps (now) directly behind you before a hand tangles itself in the back of your uniform top, gripping it tight as he stops you from going any further.

The force itself is enough to send you flying to the ground, knees scraping hard against a tree stump. You break your fall with your hands, crying out from the pain that erupts in both palms as tiny twigs and rocks dig into your soft skin. “Gotcha.” He chuckles and squats down to your level to admire your bruised form. You must have gave him a run for his money with how hard he’s breathing under the mask.

“P-Please!” You crawl backwards, back hitting the tree stump, “I don’t wanna die,” you pathetically cry, “I promise I won’t tell anyone if you let me go.” Call it cliche but it was worth a shot to plead with your killer? Stalker? You don’t know anymore.

He tilts his head, “Heard that one before, you’re not the first to beg so sweetly like that babydoll. Almost melts my poor little heart,” he coos mockingly, “but don’t stress your pretty little head over that, you’re not meant to use that brain of yours—meant to sit and look pretty for me.” He purrs and reaches out to run a gloved hand over your dirt stricken thighs.

You curl away and try to escape his touch, “Why are you doing this?” You whimper quietly, watching as his hand rubs circles over your bruised knees. A tremor runs down your spine as his leather gloves run over your shaking thighs, his touch feels scorching hot despite the cool material of his gloves pressing against your skin.

“Been watchin’ ya for a while,” he murmurs, “night n day—just imagining allll the different ways I could have you. Bet you’d look pretty with a mouth stuffed full of cock, wonder how pretty you’d look with cock deep inside your little cunt baby,” he trails off while giving your thigh a rough squeeze, “always did wonder how that pussy tastes.” You can practically picture the shit eating grin he must have under the mask.

You hate that his nasty words have a bubbling heat building in your lower stomach, it shouldn’t be that arousing to you yet here you were in the middle of the woods being fondled by your stalker while he talked about how much he wanted to fuck you. His voice even sounds hotter in person vs the phone.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He chuckles.

You land a harsh kick to his arm with a loud, “Get off of me!” You quickly turn over to stumble to your feet while he curses under his breath and stands to chase after you.

He’s not so gentle this time with the way he snatches you and slams you right up against the tree trunk, letting the chips and splinters bite into your skin unforgivingly. “Thought we were over this,” he growls, “was gonna treat you nice and sweet but by the looks of it you just wanna be tossed around like the filthy little slut you are,” he hisses in your ear while pressing you tight against the tree.

You whine loudly and push back against him in an effort to get him off of you, “Let me go—let go!” You growl angrily, “you’re a fucking psycho creep!” You grit your teeth while trying to turn to look directly at him.

He doesn’t shy away from hurting you to get you to become docile again. He pins both wrists behind your back in a tight grip, squeezing both of your hands until you hear a low threatening pop. A pained little whimper escapes your lip as he forces your head against the bark, “You gonna sit still like a good girl or do I have to tie you up?” He growls menacingly.

“I-I’ll be good!” You cry out as the pain starts to become unbearable.

“What was that?” He whispers in your ear, “Couldn’t hear ya.” He smirks.

A quiet sob slips from your lips as you slump over in defeat, “I-I’ll be a good girl.” You softly reply, too hung up on the pain to reply with the unbridled anger you feel right now. “Just please—let me go.” You sob.

He ignores your cries and instead brings out a rather intimidating looking hunting knife, it cuts into your skin almost right away with the slightest little touch. “Please no—” You immediately begin, thighs shifting as they slide against each other in an attempt to block him from either cutting or stabbing you. The only thing you achieve is the blade running into your thigh and slicing a small line downwards.

“None of that now babydoll,” he whispers while letting your wrists go and setting his big hand over your hip, “just sit still and look pretty for me yeah? Don’t need to think, just feel.” He breathes out as he guides the knife up your skirt, letting the sharp tip (which you noticed was slightly curved like a hook or something) hook under the side of your panties.

Your poor heart hammers in your chest as you begin to hyperventilate, “W-What are you gonna do to me?” The blade tugs at your panties, no doubt already piercing through the flimsy little material.

“Fuck.” You hear him whisper from behind, “You’re driving me fuckin’ crazy you know that?” His tongue clicks in annoyance as he suddenly yanks the knife down, a loud riiip following in suit, as well as your terrified scream/sob. “Gonna have a taste now babydoll, put your hands right there—yeahhh, good girl. Keep ‘em there baby,” he has you bending over with your legs spread wide apart and your hands over the tree, “ ‘s like a fuckin’ dream back here, fat little cunt n a nice ass.” He whistles while smacking his hand against your poor cheek.

You bite your lip as the cool air fans over your moist cunt, at this point in time you have long given up making any excuses as to why your pussy was drooling for this weirdo. Still didn’t mean you were less scared but you figured if you complied the faster things would go over. “Look at this slutty pussy, already leakin’ like a bitch in heat. Does a scary man like me chasing you through the woods get you goin’ sweetheart? Maybe you’re a little more fucked than I thought.” He chuckles.

There’s a brief pause and you wonder what he’s doing back there, so you turn your head to look at him when you gasp softly. He has the mask thrown off to the side, his face in all his glory—messy black hair and a lip ring with an array of piercings on his ears— he sits there with a shit eating grin, “Guess the cat’s out the bag huh?” You eye him with distaste before turning back around, you had at least hoped he was ugly or something.

“God,” he groans, “can’t get over this ass,” he mutters to himself while smacking both cheeks and pulling them apart to expose both of your holes to him, “wanna see it wrapped ‘round my cock, gonna have you squirting and messy babydoll. Might even have to get you on your knees to clean up your mess,” he whispers as his hot breath fans over your pussy lips, “you’re gonna be lookin’ at me with those sweet little eyes of yours too, gonna bust my load all over that pretty face of yours.” His tongue dips between your soft folds, licking from your winking hole down to your swollen little clit hiding under its hood.

Your eyes squeeze shut as his hands steady you by the hips, his face is practically smushed against your cunt as he slobbers over it with his greedy tongue. He sucks on your inner folds, getting every nook and cranny as he slurps up the mess he leaves behind before lapping over your clit with his tongue. Your thighs shake a little, you’ve never had anyone this eager to eat your cunt out like this. He’s a fucking menace and you hate how good he is at this.

“Fuck,” he pants softly, “can’t get enough baby, could eat this pussy for days.” He all but moans while latching on to your clit.

A shocked cry leaves your lips, you dig your nails into the tree bark and hold on tightly as your swollen bud throbs in his mouth. He doesn’t let up, suckling on your clit like a lollipop with just the right amount of pressure around the bud. A new wave of slick gushes from your untouched hole, loud mewls and whines leaving you as you subtly rut back against his face. It’s pure heaven.

He spreads your cheeks apart and pulls back to harshly spit on your cunt, “There you go, get nice n wet for me babydoll.” His hot breath fans over your empty little hole, “Good girl.”

You shouldn’t like the way he’s talking to you, but something about him calling you that has a delirious little whimper leaving you. He dips his tongue into your pussy, the sensation definitely welcomed as you sigh in bliss. His tongue wiggles around and curls upwards to brush over your sensitive walls in a flicking motion.

He jiggles your ass in both hands, moaning at the sight of the fat slipping through his fingers from his tight grip. He flicks his tongue back and forth over your swollen bud, you nearly double over as his tongue traces letters on your clit. “W-Wait,” you bite your lip as your eyes shut and you reach behind you to tangle your hand in his hair.

You freeze when you realize what you’re doing, but instead of getting angry with you he leans into your touch with a low moan. Clearly he loves it so you keep your hand in his hair, occasionally pulling just a tiny bit. When he pulls back to catch his breath, audibly gulping as he sits back on his haunches, “Turn around.” He says breathlessly.

From behind you can hear him shuffling around, the sounds of a belt being unbuckled fills your ears. “On your knees babydoll,” he rasps out while fisting his cock, sliding his thumb over the mess of precum he’s made at the tip of his cock. He’s watching you with dark lust filled eyes as you slowly fall to your knees in front of him, eye contact never wavering.

“Shit—when you look like that you make it harder for me to hold back.” He groans while licking his lip, “Exactly how I imagined you’d look.” He purrs as he brings the head of his cock to smother his precum over them, “Stick your tongue out for me baby—there you go, just like that.” He grins softly.

You lay your tongue flat under his fat cock, delighting in the delicious weight over your tongue. You can’t help but flick the tip of your tongue upwards causing it to brush over a throbbing vein. He releases a quiet hiss, fisting the shaft as he roughly slaps it against your tongue in repeated taps.

“Will you look at that, ‘nother little filthy slut we got here, how many other cocks you sucked huh?” He pushes into your mouth and holds the back of your head with one hand tightly fisted in your hair. You gag around his cock and fruitlessly claw at his thighs, “What’s the matter? Can’t take it? Poor baby can’t handle having a cock stuffed down her throat? Pathetic little thing you are, can’t even do what you were made for,” he rasps out while rolling his hips against your face.

His balls press snug against your chin as spit and drool dribble from the corners of your mouth. Your tears run freely no doubt ruining your makeup for the night, you probably look a hot mess right now. Your stalker moans and pants freely above you, he doesn’t bother hiding how good he feels right now as his cock twitches occasionally. You really lose it when he forces your head down and keeps you still, pelvis pressed right up against your nose as he rolls his hips in quick grinds.

“Oh shit,” he breathes out, “feels so fuckin’ good babydoll, knew you were the one when I first saw you.” He whispers out while slipping his cock out of your mouth, relishing in the gasping noises you make, “Gonna make you into my little cock sleeve, don’t need you doin’ anything else..belong with me right on my cock.” He shoves himself back into your mouth and begins fucking into your throat roughly. You cry and gurgle while weakly slapping your hands over his thighs. He doesn’t let up and only fucks your throat more eagerly.

“Fuck baby, c’mere,” he yanks you off his cock and brings you up to him.

He doesn’t waste time bending you back over the three and shoving his fat cock into you. You let out a loud cry and dig your nails into the tree from the pressure and slight twinge of pain from the size of his girthy cock. It sits nice and snug against your walls, curved slightly upwards to press into your g-spot, not quite hitting it but brushing over it.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper out as your toes curl from inside your shoes.

When a couple more seconds pass of him just idly rocking into you, he pulls all the way out until only the head remains before slamming back in with a loud slap. You jolt in pleasure as a tiny scream escapes, he doesn’t let up and keeps the same harsh pace he started with. His cock punches deep into your pussy, poking at your cervix painfully as you yelp out in pain between your moans.

“Fucking hell,” he moans out while moving his hands from your hips to your bouncing tits, “got a nice little pussy n a pair of pretty tits just for me right sweetheart?” He slaps one of your tits before taking your pebbled little nipple between his fingers and meanly pinching it.

“Mm!” You arch your back and try to twist away from his bruising grip. He manages to grip your other tit and knead it in his big hand.

Loud squelching noises fill the space around you in the woods, some of your slick even drips down onto the ground with tiny wet splats. The sound is filthy and has your face burning up in embarrassment as you hide in your hands with low whimpers and whiny moans. He suddenly changes the angle and begins grinding his fat cock right up against your g-spot, pressing insistently as he hits it over and over again.

“Oh you like it there don’t you sweetheart,” he grins while rolling his hips in slow circles, “go on then, fuck yourself on my cock like the little whore you are. Get that pussy nice and soaked for me.” He growls quietly in your ear while pinching your nipples once more.

A quiet squeal erupts from your throat, you shakily manage to knock your hips into his in a sloppy pace. “Please,” you slur out as your eyes slip shut, “c-can’t do it,” your pace is nowhere near the same as before.

“Can’t what?” He moves one hand down between your thighs, “Hm?”

You press your forehead against the tree bark in defeat, sobbing quietly as you wiggle your hips side to side, “ ‘s not the same, need you to f-fuck me.” You shamefully admit.

“Like this?” He slaps his hips upwards, “Or like this sweetheart?” He purrs and begins plowing into your drenched pussy, stuffing his cock deep inside with every thrust.

You throw your head back with a loud moan, “Yes, yes!” More drool begins slipping from your chin as you part your legs a bit wider and arch your back.

He swears at you from under his breath while rolling your swollen clit between his fingers. The sounds of skin slapping against skin begin louder, his balls collide with your swollen puffy folds and your ass ripples from his pelvis from his harsh thrusts. “Little fucking slut,” he grits out through his harsh punishing thrusts, “fuckin’ mine you hear that? So help me you ever think of looking at someone else I’ll fuckin gut them like a fish n fuck you over their dead body.” He hisses, “Better yet covered in their blood.” He roughly smacks your clit.

You mewl loudly and go still, your pussy pulses like crazy as you feel your orgasm hit you at full force. You cum with your clit trapped between his fingers and his cock stuffed deep. The orgasm is so strong it knocks you off your feet as you wobble and shake like a newborn lamb. “P-Please,” you sob out.

“On your knees,” he growls while slipping from your drenched cunt, “fuckin’ look at me.” He aims his cock at your face and strokes himself with loud slick noises. You stare up at him with a dazed expression, too fucked out to reply. He cums with a low moan, making sure to coat your lips and face with his cum as he taps the head against your cheek, “Fuck…” He sighs in bliss while lazily flicking his wrist.

You blink slowly and the last thing you see is him picking his knife back up.

Jungkook hums under his breath while he lazily digs through his bowl of popcorn, he’s been switching channels for a couple of minutes now. Nothing good is ever on these days, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head while flicking through the channels.

“Oh,” his face lights up in joy, “baby come look at this,” he grins and turns the volume up all the way high, “found somethin’ perfect for movie night.” He turns to look behind him, eyes wild and filled with sadistic joy.

“She was last seen Friday in the evening by her parents who were only going a few towns over to visit family. Her friends have all stated she was supposed to be meeting them that night but never showed, one even said they had spoken to her hours prior about their plans to meet. They said she wasn’t acting suspicious or anything—”

A muffled sob erupts, the sound of a cage rattling heard next as Jungkook slowly turns to look at your cowering form. You look so adorable all curled up in the cage like that, mascara streaking and lips wiped red from your lipstick. “Don’t like that movie?” He pouts, “Pity.” He turns back around and replays the entire missing persons ad.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @gukiebaby @babycandy111

[halloween m.list]

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut

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emilys-bangs · 8 months ago

Text

invisible string | e.p

Tags: emt!reader, meet cute(?) - def a bloody one lol, blood and injury, car accident, flirty emily, flustered reader (who gives in once cause who wouldn’t), no use of yn

Summary: Emily gets into an accident. Could anyone fault her for flirting with her EMT?

Word count: 2.6k

Part two

For my fave loser girl @notaboypossiblyagenius because we’re spiritually connected <3

Car accidents can be no big deal, or they can be catastrophic.

This one seems to be somewhere in between. The roads are icy tonight; you were expecting something of this measure since last week, and your predictions were right—this is the third accident you’ve been called to in the past six days.

The hood of the SUV is bent around a pole. It seems to be a mild crash, no other cars around, but you’re still preparing yourself for anything as you carefully assess the stability of the pole before approaching the passenger’s side, your coworker going over to the driver.

When you peer through the window, you find a dark-haired woman. Her head is on the headrest and her eyes are closed, a crimson line of blood cutting down the paleness of her cheek. You lightly tap on the frosted glass.

She opens her eyes. After blinking repeatedly, she lowers the window.

You crane your neck into the car, checking the backseats and subtly trying to assess the damage. “Hi there.” You give her a smile, your eyes briefly flitting to her equally dark-haired companion in the driver’s seat.

The woman blinks at you sluggishly.

“…Hey.” She slurs.

It’s more of a question. That could definitely mean a concussion, you think, what with her head wound. You reach into your belt for your flashlight, clicking it open and shining it into the car. The woman squints.

“You’re gonna be okay, we’ll get you out of here in a sec. Can you tell me your name?”

She pauses a little when your eyes meet. You hold your breath, the blankness of her gaze stirring up dread in the pit of your stomach. But then she blinks and it clears a fraction.

“Emily.” She mumbles, slowly. Her brows furrow and she stares at you intently, as if you might have the answer. In the darkness, you don’t know if you’re looking into pupil or iris. “...Prentiss.”

Some of the tightness in your gut loosens. You give her another smile, careful not to let your concern peek through. “How are you doing, Emily? Does anything hurt?” You run the flashlight up and down her body, your eyes sharp for any more serious looking injuries. Her coat seems to have protected her from the seatbelt, but when the light passes over her wrist, you spot some discoloration around it.

“Uhh…” she reaches for her seatbelt. “My—”

“Please don’t move.” Your hand shoots through the window, stilling hers on the buckle. She frowns confusedly. “Sorry, I just need to properly asses your injuries first. We’ll get you out of here in no time, I promise.” You say, your voice slipping into that firm but soothing tone you’ve learned to develop. Emily nods and you give her another reassuring smile as you open the car door. “You were saying something?”

“M’head,” she mumbles. You nod as you check her over, eventually clicking your flashlight closed and sliding it into your belt. Again you spot the discoloration on her wrist.

“Anything else?”

She seems to consider it for a moment, but then she shakes her head. You’ll deal with that later, then.

“Any trouble breathing?” You ask, leaning over her to unbuckle her seat belt. The scent of blood is thick; you try to take a closer look at the gash on her forehead, but it’s dark and her hair is in the way.

“No.”

Still, you check her airway, gently asking and prodding until you’re satisfied there’s nothing more critical needing your attention. When you’re done you instinctively place your hand on her knee and squeeze lightly—a habit of the job.

“Okay honey, I’m gonna get you out now. Let me know if anything hurts, okay?”

A faint pink spreads across her cheeks. “’Kay,” she mumbles, throwing a furtive look to the driver’s seat. Her companion is long gone, helped out of the car by your coworker; you can distantly hear them at the ambulance.

With the ice, it takes a bit of work, but once you safely get her out of the car, you also help Emily to the ambulance. She’s stiff, not really allowing herself to lean on you even though she sways a little. You’ve dealt with plenty of people like this before, so you don’t try to force her closer, just keeping your arm steady around her in case she slips. Some of the tension in her body loosens when she spots her friend on the ledge of the ambulance.

“They got ya too, Hot—Hey,” Emily cuts herself off, a deep v creasing between her brows, “you said you weren’t hurt.”

Her tone is accusatory. Which is fair, given the bruising on the man’s cheek and the stilted way his jacket lays on one shoulder, very obviously dislocated. His eyes trail over her, down the blood on her forehead and your steadying arm around her waist.

“So did you.”

Her lips purse. “I’m fine. I jus’ have a headache—”

“A very bloody one.”

“—not a goddamn dislocated shoulder!” She protests, concern taking over her features. Her voice, so far having been fluid and slurry, hardens to steel. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“Not just for him,” you say. “That head wound might cause a concussion, we need to get you a CT scan.”

Emily turns to you and frowns, as if you’re being unreasonable. “It’s just a headache.” She sulks.

“Headaches are a common symptom of concussions after blunt force trauma.”

“But—”

“We’re all going to the hospital, Emily.” The man sighs, his lips pressing together into a thin line when your coworker comes back with his kit. “Just get in so we can get this over with.”

He must be some kind of boss—or at least some years older—because the fight leaks out of her shoulders, despite the firm set to her brows. She resignedly accepts as you get her into the ambulance and on the cot, her eyes squinting as she adjusts to the bright light.

“I’m just gonna check your vitals first.” You tell her. The words are instinctive to you; most patients you deal with are confused and in pain, still in shock from their accidents, and you’ve found that explaining what you’re about to do makes your job a lot easier.

You checked her breathing in the car but you do it again, just to be sure. Emily stays quiet as you do. She blinks rapidly and keeps her eyes down, still adjusting to the lights of the ambulance as you try your best to move quickly. Her blood pressure is next, which she also accepts without complaint.

When you pick up her right hand, you find reddish discoloration circling her wrist. Her hand trembles in your grip, shaking almost imperceptibly.

“Do you feel any pain here?” You ask, gently smoothing your thumb over the cold inner skin of her wrist.

Emily shakes her head.

You frown a little as you gently prod the area. She yelps suddenly, half pulling her hand back into her chest. You drop it, guilt swirling in your gut at the way she grimaces. “Sorry.” You apologize thickly. “It might be sprained, you’ll need an X-ray to make sure.”

Emily bites her lip and nods, not looking at you as you carefully take the pulse in her left wrist instead. It jumps beneath your fingertips, quicker than normal but still within the range of acceptable; you let go of her hand and grab an instant ice pack from your kit, popping it so it freezes over.

“Hold this to your wrist.”

She does it silently. Her head is bent, the dark strands of her hair absorbing the fluorescent lights. The outline of her shoulders shivers faintly; you press your fingertips to her coat. “Hey. Are you doing alright?” You ask gently.

It sounds a stupid question even to your ears, especially when she looks up and you see the blood dripping down the sharp line of her jaw, onto the collar of her coat. There’s a small furrow between her brows when your eyes meet, but it loosens a little as she gives you a small smile.

“Yeah, ’m good.” She says. There’s a heaviness to her voice, despite the dimple in her cheek.

Now that you’re beneath the light and she’s properly looking you in the eye, you’re suddenly aware of her striking beauty. Fluorescent lights and the blood dripping down her cheek hardly diminish her sharp features. Shiny dark bangs dip between her brows, just the same bitter coffee shade of her eyes. Those are ringed with equally dark lashes, and in her pale, bloodless face, the shocking collision has the same effect of a black hole.

You blink, the sightly ragged sound of her breathing snapping you back to the present.

Oh, god, had you been staring?

Heat bursts through your cheeks as you clear your throat, desperately attempting to be casual. You reach for your penlight, bending your head to be more level with hers. “Keep your eyes open, please.” You instruct as you shine the light into her eyes.

Her pupils are blown; wide, uneven pools of black that push her dark brown irises to thin rings. They’re almost as dark as her pupils, you note, and not for the first time.

Focus.

“Yep,” you mutter, giving her a small, sad smile as you straighten. “Definitely a concussion.”

“They’re not that big of a deal.” She says flippantly, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture.

A frown draws your brows together. “You have a history of concussions?” That could definitely be a problem, you think as you click the penlight closed.

“I’m a federal agent.” Emily says, as if that explains it. She squints as she tips her chin further up, gravity dragging her bangs over her brows. The darkness of her eyes freezes you in place. “You’re…really beautiful.” She murmurs.

You suck in a surprised breath. The back of your throat goes dry, aided by the piercing intensity of her gaze. She blinks a few times and leans in closer, dark, spidery lashes kissing her bloody cheek.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a little blurry, though.”

“That’s—”

“Too pretty for a job like this.” Emily muses. Her eyes drag over you; the scrutiny makes your heart kick.

She’s your patient.

Trying to move on, you place the back of your hand to her cheek. Emily’s brows shoot up in surprise, not recognizing what you’re doing as you check the temperature of her skin. You shouldn’t rise to her flirtations, you know that. She’s not even fully lucid.

But your mouth moves before you can stop it.

“Well, you’re too pretty to be a federal agent,” you say softly, your voice low as you gauge her skin. Cold, pale. “I bet you get banged up all the time, right? That’s a shame.” You turn to grab a shock blanket. You unfold it, wrap it around her shoulders above her coat. Her dark hair is trapped under it; you resist the urge to pull it out.

A blush has spread across her cheeks. Shocking red, a close shade to the blood traveling down the length of her face. “We—uh…we jus’ wanted to get food for our team.” She sucks in a breath, “Why’d you put this on me?”

“You’re pale, looks like you might be in shock.”

“That’s just my natural color,” Emily protests as you reach for a pair of gloves and slip them over your unsteady hands. “Right, Hotch?” She calls out, loud enough for him to hear.

“Keep the shock blanket, Emily.”

“It’s cold out,” you say apologetically. For some reason, you don’t want to gain her displeasure, though—in a situation like this, at least—she seems easily displeased. “And you lost a lot of blood.”

Her whole demeanor shifts. Suddenly a dimple winks at you, its sly curve in her cheek matching the curve of her lips. “You could just warm me up.” Emily suggests, her light tone masking her exhaustion.

What? “I…uh.” Fuck, your whole body is on fire. You’re sure you’re gaping at her, but she looks entirely serious.

This is what you get for flirting back.

“I have to clean your wound.” You blurt out.

“That’s okay, you can sit on my lap and do it.” Her teeth flash as she grins up at you. Dimples. Two. She laughs at the dumbfounded look on your face, the sound gritty and soft. “Hey, c’mon, I’m a big girl, I can handle it. Super strong FBI agent, y’know? I won’t let you fall.” She says earnestly.

“Ma’am—”

“Emily.” The man calls out.

Emily blows a raspberry.

“Buzzkill,” she mutters. Her eyes leave you to glare daggers at his back, and that’s when you finally regain your composure. Taking in a quiet, deep breath, you firmly push away the butterflies climbing up your stomach and grab an alcohol pad from your kit, getting to work on her forehead. The latex of your gloves sticks to your sweat-slick palms.

Stay professional, you tell yourself as you inhale quietly, trying to cool the heat in your body. She’s a patient.

Emily’s eyes are once again on your face, turning your skin to fire. “Do you have a boss like that, too? Bit of a hardass?” She lowers her voice theatrically, the whisper of it echoing in the space between your bodies. “We like him, don’t worry, but he can be a bit uptight.”

You don’t answer, biting your tongue because obviously you can’t be trusted to keep it to yourself. Instead you focus on swiping the alcohol pad over her cheek, gently scrubbing until the blood gives way to pale skin. Few freckles peek up at you as you continue moving your way up to the gash. The blood has stopped, but it’s still thick over the wound.

“What’s your name?” She asks softly. There’s a rasp to her voice, threading through her words, and you wonder if you should give her a bottle of water.

This question is harmless, so you answer it.

“Pretty,” Emily says, her tone wistful. “Everythin’ about you is.”

Your inhale is audible in the minimal space. You avoid Emily’s eyes as you reach for a square of gauze and press it to her forehead; she takes in a quick breath of her own.

The gauze quickly soaks through, and you replace it with a fresh one.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Her voice is small, thready.

Your heart is in your throat. “No,” you say. Just nervous.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her tone sincere. “I’m not usually like this.”

You gather no one would be themselves after they’d gotten into a car accident, obtained a concussion, and lost a significant amount of their blood volume from a bash to the head. But something tells you this enigma of a woman is different.

“I told you I’m not uncomfortable.” Roundabout way of saying you’re basking in her attention. You clear your throat, “It’s good that you’re talking—helps me know you’re conscious.”

Gently, you swipe her matted bangs to the side and try to get a look at her wound. It’s shallow, but nothing you can treat on your own. As you’re bandaging it, you hear her mutter a curse.

You look down at her, irrational guilt settling in your stomach. “Are you in pain? Do you want some Tylenol?”

Emily blinks dazedly, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She tilts her head, “If I say yes, will you give me your number?”

“Emily.” Her boss sighs.

She grins.

You flush.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fics #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss blurb #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #fic #divider by saradika #emt!reader

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sttoru · 2 years ago

Note

boob obsessed!gojo please!!

oh absolutelyyyy !

tags. gojo satoru x female reader. breast play, teasing, semi-public, satoru’s v touchy, uhh cum play, mention of blow job, boob job.

satoru , who you have labelled as one of the most shameless people you have ever dated. you’ve known the guy had a thing for your tits the moment the two of you had gotten intimate.

his big hands were all over the swell of your breasts, long fingers kneading and squeezing the flesh. you can always spot the way his pupils dilate whenever he gets the chance of touching them. if you squint well enough, you might even see him drooling a bit whenever he notices the flesh of your breasts and how it bulges when the two are pressed together. and if it isn’t his hands touching those beautiful tits? it’s his tongue.

“mm, god—need ‘m in my mouth. need to taste those tits of yours, princess. c’mon. lemme suck on those nipples.”

satoru , who’s favourite position to cuddle is when he’s laying on your chest. his head will rest between your breasts, one cheek squished against the flesh and fingers usually tracing the shapes of your tits. if you’re not wearing a bra of some kind, he’ll definitely take the opportunity to tease you and circle one of your nipples through the fabric. he just loves the feeling of making you shiver due to his touches.

also, always finds a way to tell you how he ‘loves how squishy and soft they are’. claims they’re even softer than any plushies you own as well.

satoru , who you’ve caught many times staring down at your breasts whenever you’re wearing something skintight or revealing. he can’t help it, it’s his favourite part of your body. somebody needs to save that man, because he’ll literally get lost in thought and won’t even realise he’s ogling your tits.

if it’s not you catching him staring and playfully scolding him for it, it’s his students (who’d probably be disgusted by their teacher’s behaviour in front of their poor eyes). and yes—even in public, satoru’s a complete fool for you and your figure.

satoru , who loves to suck on your tits one way or another. whenever he’s fucking you, he always prefers a position where your chest is facing him. that way, he can see, touch, squeeze and suck on those breasts of yours. he doesn’t waste a single second and immediately latches onto your nipples, wet tongue gliding over your areola, eyes closed and throat making whiny noises.

one thing that never fails to make him rock hard is when you’re walking around the house without a bra on. for you it’s a simple decision; your bra sometimes gets too suffocating on your body. for satoru on the other hand, it’s impossible to ignore the urges in him once his eyes fall on the shape of your nipples that poke through the fabric of your clothes.

that’s also how you end up with his hands all over you every time. one day it’ll be his hands gliding under your shirt to grope your tits, the other day he’ll be more direct and yank your shirt off, put you on the counter and suck on them like there’s no tomorrow.

“nhhh, stay still— ah, shit.. so fuckin’ good. these things were just beggin’ to get sucked on. hm? ‘sensitive’ you say? even better.”

satoru , who enjoys the way your tits glisten when he’s cumming all over them. he loves to see the white liquid drizzle down the curves, over your nipples down to your stomach. if you’re giving him a blowjob, he’ll probably tap your head softly to signal that he’s about to reach his climax. that way you know that he wants to cum over your tits instead of down your throat.

probably instantly gets hard again at the sight of you covered in his sticky cum.

“mm, look at you, sitting there on your knees with my cum all over those pretty tits. aht aht, don’t move now, need to take a picture of the sight for future use.”

satoru , who turns into a trembling and moaning mess whenever you offer to give him a boob job. he’ll let shaky curse words escape the back of his throat, his hands clutching onto whatever he can find, his head thrown back a little but enough for his eyes to still be able to gaze down at you. he gets so turned on and will probably lose the ability to speak whenever he looks at how his cock is engulfed by your tits.

“jus’ like that, baby— oh fuck! look at those fuckin’ tits, mmh, makes me wanna cover ‘m with my cum so bad— shit, can i? may i?”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk x you #gojo x you

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daydreamgoddess14 · 2 months ago

Text

Backseat Driver pt. 1

Summary: Bucky Barnes is reluctantly running for Congress with the financial and political backing of Pepper Potts. Everything is under control until she assigns him a driver. A very chatty, overly enthusiastic, playlist-addicted driver who seems determined to worm her way past his hundred-yard emotional perimeter. He hates the arrangement. Until he really doesn’t.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,800 (might've gotten so carried away I actually broke Tumblr and couldn't post the whole fic in one post.... so I feel like that deserves some kind of award 🤭, part 2 will post tomorrow)

Warnings/Tags/Info: No use of y/n, l/n, reader is described as female. I have literally no idea whatsoever the process involved in running for Congress or being a Congressperson. Expect grumpy!Bucky, sunshine!Reader, fluff, Sam being the most glorious human ever, Pepper Potts continuing to be a badass.... Ummm... I can't think of anything else to warn you of? Enjoy! 🩷

Main Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“I don't need a driver.”

“You're not driving yourself anymore.”

“The hell I'm not, this might have been your stupid idea, but it doesn't make me your little pet.”

“James,” Pepper Potts said smoothly (that’s when he knew he’d pissed her off), “you'd know if you were my pet. Now shoo. The car is downstairs along with your driver. Do not keep them waiting.”

Conversation over, apparently. He waited, just a little longer. Just long enough for her to sigh and pointedly not look at him. Just long enough to let her know that he owed her nothing.

If anything, he was the one doing her a favour. And a big one, at that.

“Congressman Barnes -”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm gone.”

He didn't close the door behind him.

Another small act of defiance.

The elevator ride felt like an eternity. He stepped out into the heavily guarded parking level, the security guard nodded in his direction, and pointed to a sleek, top spec Range Rover with blacked out windows.

She leaned over the bonnet, scribbling into a notepad. At the sound of his footsteps, she turned abruptly.

“Congressman, hi -” she began, holding out her hand.

He didn’t take it. “You’re my driver?”

“I am,” she said cautiously, waiting for him to interrupt again. “Ready to go?”

He didn’t respond.

Vibranium clinked dully against the metal of the car door.

“Uhh, that’s my seat?” She said, her lips pinched to hide her smile.

He left the driver door wide open and moved to the rear door instead, sliding into the car without a word.

“Thanks!” She chirped, hopping up behind the wheel.

The seat automatically adjusted to her height. He watched the mirrors shift too, suiting her position.

She threw her notepad and phone onto the seat beside her. In the centre console, she’d wedged a water bottle and a half empty iced coffee.

“Can you even reach the pedals?” He couldn’t help asking.

“Good one, haven’t heard that before. Little ol’ me, great big hunk of a car… course I can reach. I have this poking stick, see - helps me push the pedals ‘cos my tiny legs just can’t do it -” she laughed.

“Right, I get it. You can reach.”

“Sure you’re done? Would you like to see my licence? Proof that I can drive stick? How about you jump out and make sure I can see over the steering wheel?”

He stared out of the window instead.

With a self-satisfied smirk, she watched him through the rear view mirror.

“Seatbelt on?” She asked.

“Are you always like this?”

“Yep. Now, any music requests?”

His frown deepened.

“Good, I don't want to hear them. Driver privileges. Hope you like 90s dance.” She waited until he'd caught her eye in the mirror, the horror crossing his face.

And then she winked.

The car roared to life. The V8 engine growled, low and powerful, but the smooth leather seats and plush interior barely shuddered. The tyres squeaked on the ramp and as the sounds of Faithless filled the vehicle, she pulled out into the steady stream of traffic.

The thumping beat reverberated through the speakers and the driver hummed along to the music, sneaking glances at the grumpy figure in the backseat.

Bucky's misery was obvious. He kept his arms crossed over his chest, and his gaze fixed out the window, his jaw clenched.

The sound of the music was only broken by the occasional sound of him sighing deeply.

The humming grew louder until the track reached the chorus and the driver began singing along, full, off-key commitment.

Bucky couldn't help but grimace at her wildly out of tune efforts. She had to be doing this on purpose.

"Do you have to do that?" He asked shortly.

"Do what?" She called over the thumping bass.

"Can you turn it down?"

"Huh?"

"Turn. It. Down."

She reached for the volume dial. "What are you saying?"

"God, finally," he muttered. "Do you have to do that?" he asked.

"Do I have to do what?"

"Sing along? It's awful."

"Oh. Well... I just like to," she shrugged.

“But you can't sing. You're way off," he said bluntly, his tone flat.

She shrugged. “Isn't that part of the fun?”

“Says who?”

“Oh I love this one!” She said gleefully, ignoring his question and turning the volume dial up again, higher than previously. “Love life and laughter is all I believe…”

Ahead of them, the traffic slowed and Bucky watched with increasing alarm, his brows pinched together, as the driver bounced and shimmied in her seat to the beat of the music, her hands either waving enthusiastically or clutching her heart like the song had cracked her open.

“I feel your hands, your lips, the heat of your body

Whisper your love to me say that you love me

Please just love me down and never leave me,

I'm a dreamer-uh-uh-uhhhhh!”

“Kill me now,” he growled, yanking his phone from his pocket. He scrolled through his contacts and raised the phone to his ear.

"Yo man, I was just about to call you,” came Sam’s voice, already full of smug amusement.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I heard you got yourself a new ride?" Bucky rolled his eyes at the barely contained laughter in Sam’s tone.

"News travels fast," he grumbled, watching her continue to bop in her seat. Sam chuckled on the other end of the line, clearly amused by the situation.

"How's that going for you?"

“How’d you think?” Bucky hissed, “How’d you find out anyway?”

"Let's just say, my sources are always reliable," Sam replied cryptically.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide a small smirk. “Pepper just told you, right?”

“Bingo.”

“That figures," he said.

"Yeah, some of us have gotta be the grown ups around here,” Sam laughed. "So… you having fun?"

"I don't need a driver."

"A little louder, I don't think she heard you." Sam deadpanned.

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “I don't need a driver," he repeated louder, making sure she heard this time.

“Pepper’s right, you’re a public figure now, man. You can’t just be tearing your motorcycle around like a feral cat.”

As Sam negotiated, the driver in question lifted her hand and flipped Bucky the middle finger.

Too busy flipping him off, she didn’t notice the traffic ahead slowing - and slammed the brakes hard.

Bucky lurched forward in the back seat, instinctively reaching out to brace himself, gripping the back of her seat.

"Oof, shit, sorry." She grimaced, easing to a more gentle stop behind the car in front.

He slumped back, indentations left in her headrest from the tight grip of his vibranium fingers.

He tried to play it cool, acting like he hadn't been caught off guard.

"Watch where you're going," he muttered, his voice gruff.

"Sorry," she said, her eyes still on the road ahead. "These idiots don't know how to drive. I'm pretty sure they're texting."

"You sure it's not your reckless driving that's the issue here?" Bucky retorted.

He went back to his call before she could respond.

"I gotta go, I'm on my way to a meeting,” he told Sam, barely holding back a growl. “Y’know, if my damn driver can get me there in one piece. I should probably read the notes before I go in."

"Enjoy the drive buddy, see you later," Sam cackled as Bucky ended the call with a sharp tap.

He leaned back in his seat, glowering out the window as the city whizzed by outside.

"You don't have to look so miserable," the driver said, her voice cutting through their uncomfortable silence.

Bucky didn't respond, his gaze still fixed on the city outside.

She rolled her eyes at his stubbornness.

“Honestly, it's not the end of the world, having someone drive you around. You get more work done, you get to listen to my excellent music -”

"We're not talking about this," he muttered, opening the files he'd put on the seat next to him. “I'm sorting this out with Potts, your assignment will be over by the end of the day.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

They lapsed into a kind of truce, the radio mercifully turned down and the driver still singing along at a more acceptable volume.

Her singing was the only nagging reminder that she was there. He tried to ignore her and focus on the files in front of him, but his concentration kept getting derailed by her off-key humming.

"Can you stop that?" he snapped suddenly, surprising even himself.

"Youuu got it," she said quietly, falling silent at last.

Her smile faltered for the first time, just long enough for Bucky to notice.

A quiet sense of relief washed over him, but then, after a few moments an uneasy feeling settled over him.

The quiet was too stifling.

Without the white noise he found himself hyper-aware of her presence.

He could now hear the rhythm of her breathing, the squeak of the leather steering wheel beneath her grip. He could hear the steady drum of her heart, a few beats quicker than a resting rhythm.

His focus sharpened on the sound of her pulse.

He wondered what could be causing her heart rate to increase. Was she nervous? Excited?

He snuck a glance at her, taking in the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled, the quick exhale.

Before he could ask, she brought the car to a smooth stop outside a towering building.

"Here we go, first stop. I'll be here whenever you're ready to move on." She said softly.

Bucky collected his notes from the seat and shoved them into the leather messenger back that rested on his lap.

He exited the car without a word, taking a moment to take in the impressive building before him. Behind him, he heard her window glide down, the tinny motor sound imperceptible to most ears.

“Thank you,” she prompted him with a grin.

“Yeah,” he acknowledged without turning around. “Thanks.”

He didn’t turn back until he got to the revolving doors of the building, by which point he could see her huddled over her notepad once again.

As if feeling his stare, she turned to the doors and smiled brightly, waving in his direction.

He ignored her.

~~~~

His meeting dragged on for over two hours. Irritation and fatigue picked at his brain and made his eyes itch. He felt dehydrated, hungry, and by the time he finally stepped out into the sunlight, his stomach rumbled in time with the traffic.

Out front, the Range Rover sat proudly - exactly where he’d left it.

Or rather, where he’d been left.

He could see her, either talking on the phone or - more likely - singing along to the radio.

He wondered if she’d even moved for the last two hours.

Seeing him on the sidewalk, she jumped out of the car and opened the rear door for him. Further along the seat, the drinks holder had been pulled down and inside sat a large bottle of water and a tightly wrapped foil… something.

“What’s that?”

“Figured you’d be hungry. And thirsty.” She shrugged, closing the door behind him before he could respond. She slipped into her own seat and turned the ignition.

He could feel her snatching glances at him in the rearview mirror while he carefully peeled back the foil on what turned out to be a still warm burrito.

“What?” He asked warily through a mouthful of food.

“Don't talk with your mouth full. It's not becoming of a Congressman.” She teased.

“Not a Congressman yet, doll.” He sneered.

She pulled out into the stream of traffic into a gap he'd only have taken on his motorcycle. The car behind flashed its lights in annoyance but she just flicked her hazards on and off in thanks. Over the sound of her music, the GPS announced a delay ahead.

“We're gonna be late,” he complained.

“Have a little faith, please.” She grinned and took the next left, ignoring the directions on her phone. Twenty minutes later, her passenger fed and watered, and the traffic defeated, she pulled up at their next stop.

Early.

“Shall I say I told you so now, or save it for later in case any more rack up?”

“How about you don't say anything?”

“Not going to happen. Enjoy your meeting, I'll be right here.”

He hesitated before getting out of the car. “You know, you didn’t have to…” he started quietly.

“I wanted to.”

And that was it.

Every day when he stepped out of his house, the car was parked up and waiting for him. And every day, the music was too loud, she talked too fast, too much and drove the Range Rover like she'd stolen it.

Every day he threatened to fire her. And every day Pepper Potts told him to get his head out of his ass.

A week into his enforced new staff member’s tenure, he text her.

Corner of Grattan and Bogart. Don’t be late.

Sam was in Washington heading north and had suggested meeting him part way. He picked up two coffees and waited for her, his baseball cap pulled low.

He wasn’t scrolling his phone.

He wasn’t really doing anything.

Just sitting.

Waiting.

When he heard the low purr of the Range Rover pulling up, he stood. One coffee in each hand. She rolled down the window.

“You know it's Saturday?”

“What, no dramatic music this time?” he asked.

“It's soul Saturday, I thought I'd wait for you.” she grinned. “You want in or are you just here to judge my taste again?”

He climbed in and handed her the drink without saying anything.

She looked at it. Then at him.

“…You got my order right,” she said, half-suspicious. “How?”

“You’ve ordered it three times already this week,” he shrugged, like it was no big deal. “I have ears.”

She looked down at the cup. Her name was scribbled across the side. In his handwriting.

She smiled softly.

Bucky stared straight ahead, pretending to study the road. She pulled away from the curb without saying another word, but the silence between them this time wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was familiar.

“So, where to?”

“Jersey, gonna collect my bike from the shop and meet Sam.”

“So this is a one way trip? And you couldn't just… jump on the train?”

“Potts said no.”

“Oh, and you always do as you're told,” she scoffed.

“Occasionally, when it suits.”

She yawned into her coffee and fell silent again. “I mean, I probably wouldn't cross Pepper either.” She admitted after a while, before treating him to her singing once more.

~~~~

Days later, with the sun dipped low enough to cast a golden wash across the buildings, traffic was thick, and for once she wasn’t weaving like a maniac.

The music was low, piano versions of recognisable songs. Bucky had his eyes closed, head tilted slightly back against the seat. He wasn’t asleep.

He never really let himself sleep while he was on the move.

“Rough day?” She asked softly.

He didn't answer right away.

“It’s always a rough day.”

“You still showed up. That counts for something.”

He opened his eyes and glanced at her in the mirror.

“I’m bored,” she said suddenly.

He arched an eyebrow.

“Then maybe pay attention to the road,” he muttered.

“I am paying attention. I’m also multitasking.”

He exhaled through his nose. A smirk, barely there.

“You want to pick the next song?” she asked casually.

He frowned. “What?”

“Music. You know? You can be DJ.”

“I don’t… I don’t really know what I like.”

She blinked. “You don’t like music?”

“I didn’t say that.” He looked out the window again. “I just haven’t had a lot of… say. In what I hear.”

There was something in his voice, flat, but not dismissive. It suggested years of noise he hadn’t chosen.

Propaganda. Orders. Guns. Screams. Silence.

She swallowed, nodding slowly.

“Well,” she said after a second. “Let’s fix that.”

She handed him her phone, unlocked and open to her music app. “Pick anything. Go on.”

He held it like it might bite him.

“Not gonna lie to you,” he said dryly. “This feels like a trap.”

She laughed, not mocking, just easy and warm. “Worst case scenario, you pick something awful and I throw us into oncoming traffic.”

“Fair. What classes as awful?”

“Let's find out, shall we?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

He scrolled hesitantly, his thumb moving slowly, like he was trying not to break anything.

Finally, he tapped something.

A slow, smoky jazz guitar slid through the speakers. She looked at him in surprise. “You just… picked that out of nowhere?”

“I didn’t just pick it.” He didn’t look at her. “I have been trying to adjust for the last few years. Sam's thrown a few suggestions my way.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while.

“…Not bad,” she murmured eventually.

His mouth quirked, just barely. “Yeah.”

She stopped the car outside his house.

“Get some rest, Congressman. You look like you need it.”

“Thanks, so I look like shit?”

She laughed sharply. “Yeah, right. As if. Look, it may not feel like it, but you’re making a difference.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He nodded tiredly and stepped out of the car.

At the top of the steps, he turned, noting that she always waited for him to go inside before she left.

It didn't stop him from checking that she was still there.

~~~~

The events, meetings, townhalls, meet and greets were beginning to blur.

He stepped out of the building, tie loosened, shoulders tight. The black Range Rover was already parked across the street, perfectly aligned in a no-standing zone, hazard lights blinking innocently.

She leaned casually against the side of the car, sunglasses perched on her head, sipping an iced coffee with more espresso shots than he dared think about.

“You’re early,” he grunted as he slid into the backseat.

“I’m always early,” she said brightly, climbing into the driver’s seat. “What, you just think I appear like magic?”

He didn’t respond, but she caught the faint twitch of his mouth in the mirror.

Close enough to a smile.

As she pulled into traffic, he noticed they weren’t heading in the usual direction. “You missed the turn.”

“Not going home yet. I’ve got one more stop and then I have instructions to take you to Pepper.”

His jaw tightened. “You have another pickup?”

“Yup.”

“Oh,” he said, trying and failing to sound unaffected. “Didn’t realise you chauffeured other people.”

“Although you're technically my only client, and the most dramatic, I'm doing her a favour,” she said, clearly amused.

He didn’t answer.

Just sat there, seething quietly at the idea of her smiling and chatting with someone else the way she did with him.

Someone younger. Cooler.

Probably not traumatised and 100 years out of place.

The Range Rover coasted to a stop in front of a sleek private school entrance. She unbuckled her seatbelt and twisted to glance at him.

“Back in five. Try not to melt in the leather.”

He grunted, but watched her go.

It wasn’t a man. Not even another client, not in the way he thought.

A moment later, she returned with a kid practically bouncing alongside her. The girl looked up at her with absolute adoration, and she responded with a warmth Bucky hadn’t seen before.

She walked the girl, Morgan, (it clicked a second later) back to the car and opened the rear door.

“You remember the Congressman,” she said by way of introduction.

Morgan clambered in without hesitation, sliding across the backseat until she plopped down beside him like they were old carpool buddies.

“Hi,” she said, pulling her seatbelt across. “You look less mad than last time I saw you.”

Bucky blinked. “Uhh… hi.”

She looked up at him, curious. “You still mad about her?”

He glanced toward the front, where the driver was watching them in the mirror with raised brows.

“...No,” he muttered. “She’s fine.”

“I know,” Morgan said matter-of-factly. “She makes the best lunchbox snacks. Sometimes she lets me drive in the driveway if Mom’s not home.”

“Don’t say that in front of people,” the driver said quickly, tossing her a warning glance.

Morgan narrowed her eyes. “Anyway, Mom said you were mad that she made you get a driver, and I said -”

The driver was hiding a smile now, fiddling with the GPS. “Alright, kiddo, seatbelt on?” She interrupted, “Get on with your homework, stop bothering Congressman Grumpypants.”

As they pulled away from the school, Bucky sat back. The heat of his earlier jealousy had died off, leaving him embarrassed.

He'd been jealous of a kid.

Not just any kid, Morgan Stark.

Morgan rolled her eyes and pulled a tablet out of her backpack, popping in earbuds and disappearing into whatever assignments awaited her.

He didn’t know what the hell was happening between him and the woman in the front seat. But it was starting to get harder to pretend he didn’t care.

At the office, Pepper Potts was exactly where he expected her to be, half-glancing at a screen floating in midair, tapping on her phone, eyes flicking up to meet his with a sharp, calm kind of clarity that always unnerved him.

“You’re early,” she said, without looking at the time. “That’s rare.”

“I wasn’t driving,” Bucky replied dryly.

That got him the faintest smirk. She waved a hand and the screen blinked away.

“She’s good,” he said, casually. Too casually.

Pepper tilted her head. “Morgan?”

“…Your driver.”

“Ah.”

He scratched his jaw, suddenly feeling defensive for even bringing it up.

“I didn’t know you were hiring clowns,” he added, trying to sound annoyed, but the words lacked his usual bite. “She talks a lot. More than Sam, and that's… a lot.”

“She does,” Pepper agreed smoothly.

“Where’d you find her?”

“Hmm?”

“The driver.”

“Why?”

“Just curious.” He tried to sound disinterested. Neutral.

He failed miserably.

Pepper gave him a slow, knowing look.

“You never ask about people, Bucky. Ever.”

“She’s… unusual,” he muttered.

“Unusual how?”

“Drives like she’s in a Fast and Furious movie. Listens to the worst music I’ve ever heard. Talks too much.”

“But you’re still in one piece.”

“Barely.”

Pepper smiled. “You could’ve just said you liked her.”

His eyes flicked up. Sharp. “Didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He scowled. “This isn’t… I just wanted to know where you found her.”

“She interned with us a few years ago. Logistics. She's smart. Too mouthy for upper management though. Too good for it, in all honesty. She freelanced security logistics for a while, specialising in VIP movement, crisis response. Tony would’ve liked her.”

Bucky blinked. “Wait, she’s trained?”

“Extensively. Don’t let the coffee cups and dancing fool you.”

He blinked again.

It clicked. How she always had them out of tight traffic. How she knew exactly when to pull up, when to back off. How she always parked near exits without seeming to think about it.

He felt a little stupid, honestly.

Pepper watched him closely. “She knows what she’s doing. And before you ask, no, I didn’t pick her to annoy you. That's just an added bonus.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She grinned again.

He shifted his weight. “She ever drive for someone else?”

“Not like this. You’re the first.”

That meant more than it should’ve.

Pepper leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. “Why don’t you just ask her these things yourself?”

He looked away. Jaw tight. “Not my business.”

She smiled gently. “You’re wrong, Bucky. It is your business. She’s in your life now, whether you like it or not.”

He didn’t answer.

Pepper didn’t push.

“Go home,” she said finally, turning her attention back to her screen. “And don’t fire her. You’d regret it.”

He looked incredulous, then it dawned on him.

“She tells me you threaten to fire her every day.” Pepper arched an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t really going to -” he started, then stopped. “…Whatever.”

He left without saying goodnight.

~~~~

The event had gone better than he’d expected.

A few speeches. Awkward handshakes.

But people had listened. Some had nodded. A few had smiled. He could handle that.

It was easier when they wanted to be there to listen to him. He found it much harder convincing people who'd already made up their minds to dislike him.

What he couldn’t handle was the crowd waiting outside.

Photographers. Reporters. Bright flashes already popping the second the door opened.

His chest tightened immediately. He knew this feeling, It started in his hands - both of them.

Tight, twitchy, like even the coils and springs in his metal arm were tightening.

Then his jaw, clenching so hard his teeth ached. He froze in the doorway, half in shadow, half in the spotlight.

Too many faces. Too many voices, all shouting his name.

Winter Soldier!

Congressman Barnes!

Are the rumors true? Are you stepping down?

Smile for us, sweetheart!

That was a new one - they didn't usually call him sweetheart. He realised why.

That last one wasn’t even aimed at him, it was aimed at her. Parting the boisterous group like the red sea. Appearing before him, still and quiet.

And somehow, that broke the spell.

Before the tension could boil over, before he could even think about turning around and bolting, she stepped forward. Like it was nothing.

She slid into the space beside him, hand lightly brushing his arm, not grabbing, not controlling. Just grounding.

“You ok?” she murmured, almost under her breath.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t flinch either.

“Sorry folks,” she called sweetly. “Congressman Barnes is late for a call with Captain America himself. No time for pictures.”

Someone tried to shout over her. She cut them off without raising her voice.

“And no further questions,” she glared.

He didn’t say a word until they were both back inside the car, the Range Rover felt like a little island of peace in the chaos.

She didn’t turn the music on. Didn’t start the car. Just looked at him.

“Better?”

He nodded stiffly, trying to force his pulse back under control.

“…Thanks,” he muttered eventually.

“Any time. I'm calling Pepper, you need real security. This is getting ridiculous.”

“It's fine, I'm fine.” He insisted.

“No.” she said forcefully through gritted teeth once they were on the road. She sounded angrier than he'd ever heard her. “No. You don’t have to be bulletproof all the time.”

He didn't say anything, but he felt the comment land, however off-the-cuff she made it sound.

“And you actually do need to call Sam back,” she sighed. “That wasn't a lie. Any objections if I get us a little sugar rush?”

She was in the drive-thru for doughnuts before he could reach for his phone.

~~~~

She was unusually quiet when she picked him up the following day.

No radio. No singing. No bouncing in the seat.

Just a distracted hum of energy, like her thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

He climbed into the back as usual and settled in.

She fumbled slightly with the steering wheel, then sat still for a moment too long before starting the engine.

She didn’t even check the rearview to throw a quip his way. Something was off.

She drove in silence for about ten blocks before he spoke.

“...You good?”

She blinked. Glanced at him in the mirror. “Me? Yeah. Why?”

“You haven’t said a single annoying thing today.”

That made her snort, but there wasn’t much force behind it. “Wow. That worried you?”

He shrugged, looking back down at the folder in his lap. “Not really. Just weird when things are quiet.”

She didn’t answer. They drove another block. Then he cleared his throat.

“I, uhh, got something,” he said awkwardly, reaching into his jacket. “For the… silence.”

He handed her a small, beat-up flash drive.

She frowned. “What’s this?”

“I made you a playlist.”

She blinked, stopped the car at the red light and fully turned to look at him. “You… what?”

“Songs you’ve played. Stuff I caught. Things you like. That dance crap. Some other stuff too.”

“…You made me a mix?”

He shifted, looking suddenly very interested in the pattern of stitching on the car door. “Don’t make it weird.”

She stared at the flash drive like it might spontaneously combust.

The car behind them honked, making her jump. She eased the car into gear and set back off, then carefully, slotted the drive into the dash and started skipping through the tracks.

The car filled with familiar sounds. Her favourites, blended with a few odd choices that had to be his.

Jazz. Old-school rock. One or two that made her laugh. The Supremes, show tunes, K-Pop…

“I can’t believe you did this,” she murmured.

“Don’t make it a thing.”

“It’s definitely a thing,” she whispered, half-dazed.

And for a few miles, she forgot to drive like a maniac. Forgot whatever had been bothering her.

He kept seeing her in the mirror, like she was waiting for him to say something disdainful.

But he didn't. He didn’t look smug. He looked quietly proud. Like it had been worth the effort, just to see her stunned into silence for once.

By the time they reached his next appointment, she was singing along again.

~~~~

The evening events were the worst. The events where spouses attended and made him look painfully single.

His driver had delivered him home, shoved a Prada suit bag into his hand and told him she'd wait outside.

“You could just wait in there,” he waved vaguely toward the front door.

“Ha! No, god no that's weird. I'll be here.” She shooed him into the house, “go on, hurry up, you have thirty minutes.”

Forty minutes later he was battling with his bow tie.

“Up and then under,” Sam said, his voice muffled by his hands covering his face. “No that bit goes round -”

“Round where?” Bucky turned to where he'd leaned the phone so Sam could see.

“Man, please go and get in that damn car. Your driver will tie it for you.”

“I need to learn…”

“You don't have time, you gotta get movin’. I'll send you a YouTube video later.”

“YouTube? C'mon, man -”

“Buck, so help me I will kill you if you don't get in that car. If Pepper gets on to me ‘cause you're late, I will throw you under that bus.”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too buddy.”

The faint beep of the handset let him know that Sam had hung up. By the time he made it outside, she was pacing by the car.

“Jeez, thought you'd gotten lost! What took you so long? Pepper is blowing up my phone,” she wheeled on him, scowling, but stopped immediately on sight.

“You any good with a bow tie?”

She stepped closer and took it from him. Her hands fluttered nervously but she looped the tie around his neck and used it to drag him a little closer to her height.

“You ok?” He asked. “You were about ready to kill me but you stopped?”

“Fine, totally fine.” She tied the knot carefully and tucked the band under his collar. She stepped back after tying the knot, brushing her fingertips along the edge of his collar like she couldn’t quite stop herself.

He caught the way her hands hovered for a second too long, like she’d forgotten what they were supposed to do.

“There,” she said, voice a little quieter than before. “You’ll do.”

He didn’t move. Just watched her. Her eyes flicked to the side like she was desperate to be anywhere else.

“What?” she asked.

“I told you, you were scowling. Then I walked out, and you just… stopped. Like you forgot to be mad.”

She rolled her eyes, but her voice was softer now. “You're being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he asked, stepping just a little closer.

Her breath hitched, just barely, but he heard it.

“Are you worried?” He asked. “About Pepper being mad?”

“No, of course not.”

“You don't have to be.”

“I'm not.” She looked up at him then, and there was something in her expression he couldn’t place. He squinted at her.

“Then what?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Instead, she turned on her heel and yanked open the car door.

“Bucky, just… just get in before Pepper has both our heads.”

The silence that filled the car was different this time. Not the usual, comfortable quiet they’d eased into over the last few weeks.

This was charged.

He didn’t say anything. He wasn't sure he trusted himself.

When she finally pulled up to the event, she shifted into park and twisted to look at him.

He leaned forward instinctively.

Her eyes dropped to his lips for a split second.

“You never call me Bucky,” he said, voice low.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said, just above a whisper. “It just… slipped.”

“Yeah?”

She didn’t reply, she stayed frozen, eyes on his, like something might snap between them if either of them breathed too hard.

And then…

The rear door opened abruptly, and a polite young valet with the worst timing beamed in at him.

“Mr. Barnes, we’re ready for you inside.”

Bucky stared straight ahead, past the driver, jaw clenched. A breath passed before he looked back at her. She hadn't moved.

“Enjoy the party,” she said, neutralising her expression and making her voice light and even.

He stepped out of the car, bow tie neat, posture perfect. But his hands were still shaking.

He hated these kinds of parties on a good day. There were always too many people pretending not to be watching him.

But tonight was worse. He couldn’t stop replaying that moment in the car. The way she’d looked at him. The quiet inhale. The feel of her fingers at his collar.

He was halfway through a conversation with some city councilman when he realised he hadn’t heard a word of it.

“Earth to Barnes.”

He turned to find Pepper raising a perfectly groomed brow, two champagne flutes in hand.

“You’re a million miles away,” she said, handing him one. “Did I miss a memo?”

He cleared his throat and took the drink. “Just... tired.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, clearly not buying it.

Her eyes flicked toward the entrance. “Your driver peeled out of here like someone was chasing her… know anything about that?”

His grip on the flute tightened so hard he could hear the faintest crack. He downed the contents quickly and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter.

“I think there's a tiny crack in that glass,” he told them before turning back to Pepper. “She did?”

“She did,” Pepper said dryly. “I hope you're not upsetting her.”

He didn’t answer.

PART 2

248 notes · View notes

monkebearness · 2 months ago

Text

A Cold Summer Fling

Lynn (tripleS) x Male Reader

Tags: smut, angst, (light) fluff, heartbreak, first love, fling

Word count: 9.5k

a/n: this one is more on the angst side, so it may or may not be for you. regardless, if you do wanna give it a try, I hope you like it.

Neither of them knew how he’d reached this point. They did, but the ‘why’ still keeps on running in his mind while Junghoon has his arms wrapped around Lynn’s waist as they lie down on the couch, staring in front of the television playing a music show in the past half an hour. Idols dancing has never been his most favorite content to watch in general, but he has always admired their singing, hard work, and overall talent.

Nuzzling her head on his chest, the woman turns to his direction. “Oppa.”

He looks down—seeing her face him—with an earnest and clueless smile. “Hmm?”

“I know I've mentioned it a few times before, but we have a performance coming up at the Summer Festival. If, uhh, you have the time—”

He hesitates for a second. “Of course! I’m sure that I have time to watch. Maybe I'll finally get to see what you and your crew have been cooking up for months.”

“Hmmm… I don't think it's too different from what you're seeing,” she teases him, her fingers delicately trailing from his chin down to chest. “Well, except for one thing.”

“What's that?” He entertains her suggestive cadence with his soft and suave delivery, his fingers trailing across her smooth shoulders to match the mood she’s setting up.

Her smile turns into a smirk, leaning closer. “Only you can touch me,” she whispers.

With a wide smile, the woman closes her eyes and lovingly leans her lips into Junghoon, which he welcomes as she turns the rest of her body around to face him, deepening the kiss while he tightens his arms around her, with his fingers trailing down her curves.

“I want it now, oppa,” she gasps in-between their kiss, holding his chin. “Please…”

“Of course,” he grunts as he continues taking over her mouth with his dominant tongue.

With Lynn’s fingers ticking his crotch, excitement drives him to use one hand to slide off his joggers, unveiling his hog right before Lynn's eyes, further amplifying her excitement towards him in an instant. She quickly takes her skirt and panties off and gets up to sit on his lap. Their timing couldn’t have been better—sensing his cock erecting in almost an instant at the same time she takes off her top, revealing her plump breasts without a bra to hold them. With his salivating mouth, he prowls straight to her mounds, inciting a prolonged yelp that she can't contain. “Nggggghhh, so good… Fuck! Opp—augghhh...”

“Jamkkanman.” He parts from her breast, holding her hand. “I’ll just get a condom—”

“No need,” the woman piles her hand over his, her smile glowing with lust. “I'm safe tonight, oppa…” She leans closer to his cheek, giving it a cool lick before whispering. “Just do it.” next to his ear.

Within seconds, he aligns his member into her entrance without hesitation and struggle. Sliding in her tight hole. With his rod now inside throbbing her tight walls, a determined Junghoon holds onto Lynn’s hips and begins thrusting in and out of her. In seconds, his movements find Lynn's sweet spots, as he usually does. Hearing his sweet whispers, the woman can only respond to him through her growing moans, matching the movement of his robust rams with her smooth grinds. Until now, this act hasn't gotten any older, even though it’s what they’ve been doing almost every time they hang out here.

The woman’s nails dig through his skin, her grinds on his member intensifies with each second until her tits begin to bounce. “You're so… fucking goooo—auugghhhppa!” With such a spectacle in sight, Junghoon falls into the temptation of taking a second dip with his mouth, feeling the vibrations while sucking. “Su…ssugoi!” she howls out of the blue.

“W–what… is it?” he mutters, himself still powering through their strenuous movement while feeling the contrast of pleasure of his balls deep inside her at the same time. The woman can only giggle playfully—as if she’s lost all her sanity while being impaled.

The ticking of the clock and their skins sync to their ears. The woman looks up, gasping for air as her eyes roll back to the side. “I’m… I’m close!” she groans from the top of her lungs, closing her eyes and bracing herself for her own juices to slowly spurt out. At the same time, her thirst slowly forces her tongue to stick out, her jaw opening like a shark.

“Me too,” the man huffs, tightening his embrace around his partner while his mouth continues to nibble and suck on her neck, triggering a note that prolongs her moans while they maintain their movement with every powerful thrust against each other. Finding her own primal noises as harmonious to his lust-driven senses, Junghoon cannot help but relish by rewarding Lynn a sloppy kiss as their movements begin slowing down with their stamina.

With three more thrusts, Junghoon stops and shoots his load into Lynn’s womb while the latter squeals with jubilation with her back arched, unable to contain herself from basking in the wave of pleasure which is now transmitting across her quivering body.

They stay in place on the sofa, only left with a smile of satisfaction on their faces. Lynn lays her head on his shoulder, giggling, while Junghoon steals a kiss on her cheek. As they catch their breaths beside each other, the wall clock strikes nine in the evening.

After wearing her top once again, Lynn puts her panties back on as she gets up from the sofa and heads to the kitchen. “I’ll just have a glass of water. You want a glass too?”

“I’m good.” From his seat, Junghoon looks back at her. “But thanks, Lynn-ah.”

He reminisces about how he’s gotten to this point, with this wonderful woman beside him. He has promised to sleep over her place for the night, though he was hesitant to decline her offer at first. Needless to say, he’s quite glad that he didn't turn her down.

They’ve been seeing each other for three months, not long after Junghoon returned to the university campus after a year, although he wasn’t the only one who has made this decision in mind. He simply took advantage of the situation, and now, he’s reaped the fruits of his labor. For better or worse.

His eyes glance at the calendar on the wall, it’s already May. His graduation is coming up in less than a month. Slowly, his smile fades as his mind goes blank, but it will turn out to be a calm right before the thunderstorm of his misgivings has come flooding in.

= = =

Four months earlier, the campus of Seoul State University reopens after winter break. Tons of snow have accumulated on all of the building rooftops, yet that doesn’t stop students from reuniting with their buddies in this first week of classes of this new semester, especially the ones they haven't seen even before the long, cold break.

“You two have grown up so much!” Kotone coos each of her two friends with a quite melodramatic, motherly pitch. She pinches Honggi’s shoulder, before moving on to pinch Junghoon’s left cheek. “Aww… There’s not much I can pinch there anymore.”

Their hairs have grown inches since they first enlisted, still a few inches halfway to their usual look. Their overall body shape appears more ‘toned,’ as their posture is straighter.

“Yeah, yeah,” Junghoon politely pushed her touchy hands, although the sight of his friends warms his heart. “But, I gotta say, I am glad that we’re back with you guys.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Honggi places his palm on his shoulder. “But we’re mostly gonna be on our own for this year, bud. But again, I’m glad we still have each other.”

“Yeah, but I think it’ll be fine. I don’t think being a senior should be any different.” Kotone and Myungsoo can only smile at their close friend’s wholesome optimism.

“Except for our thesis,” Honggi adds as he forms a smirk, which weirds out Kotone and Myungsoo with their raised eyebrows and tilted heads. Who even smiles at the mention of the word thesis? As Honggi nudges Junghoon’s shoulder, he only rolls his eyes with a chuckle, knowing exactly what his friend is insinuating. “Isn’t that right, Jung-ah?”

“Yah, yah… Is it what I think it is? Just because we’re all friends, you better not dare freeload our maknae!” Kotone exclaims, raising her fist right at Honggi. “Both your grades and graduation will be at stake here if you ever mess up his concentration.”

“As if I’ve ever!” He raises his hands in the air. “We rarely get paired up because most of our classes were different, but whenever we were partners, I was the only one who stood up to him. I have only met up and worked with him, whenever he wasn’t busy working!”

“That’s fair, but then again, you’re not Sohyun-sunbae,” Kotone shoots back.

“I’m pretty sure she was the freeloader to Junghoon, remember?” Honggi counters her.

“Come on, guys! Enough arguing,” Junghoon burns their fuse with his voice, something that he rarely raises. At least not when he really has to. “It’s already past noon and it's still freezing here… Plus, I’m kinda starving. Aren’t y’all?”

“Finally, someone’s thinking straight!” Myungsoo backs him up, lightly holding onto his shoulder. “You heard the soldier. Today, we’ll have the almost-veterans take their pick.”

That day, seeing his closest friends was the start of his routine going back to normal.

“Oppa!” He hears the cheery greetings from two familiar voices he hasn’t heard in the last several months since they visited him at their training center with all his buddies.

Gong Yubin and Jeong Hyerin would catch on to his return later that afternoon. They may no longer have a little club to meet up, but they didn’t want to miss out on their sunbae and old friend returning. “Omo! It’s been long, you two. How’ve you been?”

“Still kicking through a couple of semesters now… And somehow, Mad Money has yet to reunite!” Yubin confesses, running her hands through her hair. “The rest of us anyway.”

“Well… I’m sure the spirit of the club still lives on with you girls,” Junghoon hopes, even though he understands what she meant. The more their unnies and fellow members had left or graduated, the rest could no longer keep up with the passage of time and stacks of priorities weighing them. “From what I heard, you’d still meet even without the club.”

“We have.” A warm smile leaves Hyerin’s face, just before a sigh of weariness follows. “By next week, Kae-chan and I are gonna practice all night for some event our leaders aren’t even telling us about yet. Yubin-unnie here is probably gonna be sent off by her parents to culinary school in the summer.”

“Wow…” They’ve come this far. Deep down, he feels a sense of pride for them. “I don’t know what else to say, other than I know that you’ll do well.”

“And you, oppa?” Yubin chimes in with curiosity. “Were things well at the center?”

“I mean… I did pretty okay?” He answers with half the confidence, shrugging at her. “All things considered.”

“We’re just glad that you’re back,” Yubin admits, playfully squishing his shoulder. “Even if you still have the rest of your semester.” She counts with her fingers, starting with her pinky. “To finish your training, your internship, and your thesis.”

“I'm sure it's doable. It just takes a little planning and a lot more effort,” Junghoon humbly retorts. “After all, I've learned from the best club.”

Yubin only exhales a smile, shaking her head as a few blissful memories of their old crew flashes back to her.

“We know, but whenever you’re having a problem, you better ask for our help!” Hyerin slowly points her finger at Junghoon as if she’s giving him a threat, which scares him a little. “The club may be done, but we wanna repay you somehow for being there for us, with our unnies.”

“Gomawo…” Looking back, he believes more that, without the Mad Money Club, and the considerate people in it, he would not even be here, and he’ll always wear that mentality.

“By the way, your cousin has been a handful, you know that?” Hyerin adds, inciting a nod and chortle from Yubin while she crosses her arms.

“Yah… You’re the ones who volunteered—begged me even—to take her the moment she got here,” he defends himself, keeping his cadence relaxed while holding in a somewhat smug smile. “Even though Tone-yah was the first one who offered to give her a tour.”

“Oh, she still joined unnie’s club since they’re still hanging around,” Yubin corrects him. “And we’re pretty sure it was Yooyeon-unnie who really got to her without doing much.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles. “I guess she gets to have the best of both worlds.”

But joyous reunions aside, he knows that not everything is the same. And it won’t be. Still, even with this truth, he moves on with his life in many ways he can. Sentiments about the past will not help him get through it. If he has to do it alone, he’ll have to.

Back to being a senior, awaiting his graduation in the following year. Despite him having stepped down from the student council, he was able to win over his old batchmates since they knew his capabilities as an aide. By the end of the month after his return, Junghoon managed to land a gig at their University Library, agreeing to shift for two to three times a week due to his ongoing service. Afternoon and night shifts, to be precise. It pays a little, but it's enough for him to compensate for his old part-time gigs. He’s even surprised that it pays at all.

From six to ten, the library gives him a haven to study and spend more time outside his dorm so he can work on his academics in their counter without much of a disturbance.

“Annyeonghaseyo, sunbaenim. I'd like to borrow these books.”

For the most part. Though, it's not this process that bothers him, since it's his job after all. Rather, it's this familiar person right in front of him.

“Soomin-ah… What are you doing here? It’s late.”

Thankfully, his patience is better than most folks.

“Come on. I’m exercising my rights as a recent college sophomore, oppa!”

“Do that elsewhere then. Namely, your dorm.”

She pouts at him, placing her knuckles on her waist, like a whiny kid. “Hmm… That’s not a nice way to treat your little cousin.”

“Your brother does that too,” he shoots back. Of course, he can’t be angry at family.

“Hmph. That’s the problem.” She crosses her arms. “You're not Hyungmin-oppa. You’re you, which I need... And I’m here to support you on your late shifts! You didn’t complain whenever we came to visit you at your training center.”

She's done it. Talking her out of going home is no longer an option. She’s not in middle or high school anymore. “Well, you’ve proved your point. But… you can start ‘showing your support’ by keeping your voice down first, arasseo?”

“Hwaiting!” She keeps her voice down, but not without making herself sound sardonic. A few minutes later, Soomin would venture to another area in the building. The lounge where she can still bring herself out of her boredom with her laptop and a few manhwa books. Meanwhile, Junghoon is given a new task from his superior.

“Junghoon-ssi… Do you mind returning the books to the shelves? I know we still have an hour left, but it’d be better if you only got a few things to do before you wrap up.”

“Not at all, ma’am,” he complies in an instant, walking to the book cart with alertness. “I'll get to it now.”

It took him about ten minutes to return all fifty books to seven sections, but as soon as he finishes his task, his eyes catch something else that's lost. Walking inside the Korean Literature Section, he sees an I.D. has been left lying on the floor. Approaching the item forward, he picks it up, finding the face of a woman. By the looks of her identification number, she’s more likely a junior. Kawakami Lynn, from the Department of Dance. Feeling that privacy has just been violated, he quickly looks away, only for his gaze to land back at the counter, seeing three women talking to the main librarian.

The first two women are about the same height, though the one that stands out with her strangely high pitched voice, while the other’s hair is dyed brown. But finding familiarity with the third woman unleashes a surge of relief over him. Thank God she hasn’t left the building. She faces him just as he walks to her. Astonishment towards her height arises. Seeing the woman a few meters apart, she appears to be about two centimeters shorter than him, but still tall nevertheless, he almost forgets how to initiate the conversation until the woman’s friends shift their gaze towards him, giving more pressure to him.

He gives a few light taps on her shoulder. “Ma’am..? Jamkkanmanyo…”

In front of his presence, her gaze remains just as stunned as he was. “Ne?”

He raises his hand. “May I ask if this is yours?”

“Ne!” she almost raised her voice in surprise. “That is mine. Omo! Kamsahamnida!”

But she's not done. “May I ask what your name is?”

He offers his right hand to her. “My name’s Geum Junghoon. I'm a senior.”

But something tells him his own gesture might be too much. His own hesitation.

“I know you already saw it from my I.D., but…” She catches his hand quickly before he can pull it back. “I’m Kawakami Lynn. I am a junior.”

Her rush of explanation makes him chuckle. “I have, but it’s nice to meet you, Lynn.”

Whether or not her memory was shrouded in her own romantic butterflies swarming her mind and body, Lynn definitely remembers feeling a spark of electricity the longer their hands touch and slowly shake. Scanning Junghoon’s appearance from head to toe, she notices his I.D., instinctively comparing both faces in front of her eyes. His nose. His lips. His physique. Her common sense knows they're the same person, yet she can’t help but give him a second look, in awe with the finding. Junghoon awaits her response with a simper. On her left, Lynn’s brown-haired friend nudges her on the shoulder. “Psssst!” while the black-haired one giggles, shaking her head with her eyes closed.

“Mianhae! It’s, uhhhh, nice meeting you too, Junghoon-sunbae…” Her smile widens the more her butterflies start to fill her stomach. Still beside her, Lynn’s friends can only shake their heads while holding their grins and chuckles. “And these two are my friends, Hayeon and Sion,” she continues, hoping it will conceal her sudden fit of panic.

Did she just check me out? is the immediate question that pops up, since meeting her that night, but her presence has already enticed him just as well. Her smile. Her eyes. Her height, still. But he reciprocates her formalities, bowing to both her friends while such intrigue about her still lingers on. “It’s nice meeting all of you. I’ll just be here.”

Even before they leave the counter, Lynn steals a glance at her sunbae from a distance. Whether it's through his peripherals, senses, or both, Junghoon also feels her gaze from afar, but the moment his hands look back, he finds her rushing to her friends as they all exit the room. A snortle exhales through his nose, shaking his head in disbelief while he returns the book cart next to the counter desk.

= = =

Weeks have passed. Junghoon thought it was a silly encounter he and his friends would look back on and have a laugh at or wonder about what ifs. He couldn’t be more wrong, considering how the same woman would often cross paths with him since that night.

Several meetups on campus might not be the fanciest dates they’ve had in mind (even though they weren’t dating), but they made the most of their time. Aside from his bud Honggi with their thesis revisions, Junghoon didn’t have anyone else visit him in the library except for Lynn, which he didn’t mind that much. Discomfort is far from the word he would describe her presence. It was more or less fascinating. She’d ask for books whenever she can’t find something. He would comply in almost an instant.

“Have some, sunbae,” she hands him a cold bottle of caffeinated green tea.

In fact, he appreciated it, even before he realized what her moves were suggesting. He is that slow, but he managed to catch it, for her own sake.

“Oh…” He takes the bottle with some hesitation, but his own thirst has compelled him to crack it open with a sense of urgency. “Kamsahaeyo, Lynn-ah.”

Having someone as company wasn’t new to him. But it was refreshing, to put it simply. Not just because she’s a new face, but it is because she stayed with him during his late night shifts when anyone else in his life was occupied with their own personal affairs.

“If you’re gonna be here every night, you don’t have to keep calling me sunbae.”

She places her finger on her chin as she ponders. “Soooooooo… Junghoon-oppa, then?”

His sip hits the wrong pipe, causing him to let out a few coughs. Lynn rushes to her bag, unzipping the lowermost compartment to get a pack of wipes.

“Gomawo,” Junghoon takes them from her hand, quickly wiping the juice off his lips.

“Mianhaeyo, sunbaenim,” she can't help but slightly bow her head out of guilt.

“Gwenchana, gwenchana, Lynn,” he waves his hand. “It’s not your fault, it’s just…”

She keeps her hands clasped. “It’s because I like you, Geum-sunbaenim…”

And there she goes. The man’s been silenced by her words, mentally and verbally.

Her heartbeat grows even louder, having confessed those words to him. Junghoon’s heart is not that different—his palms slowly sweating around the already damp bottle. Lynn’s eyes suddenly become more captivating. Her lips appear redder. He knows well that her body isn't his business, but his eyes are already trapped by how striking, even a bit more revealing than before, her dress is; not to mention her stronger and enchanting spring-themed perfume. The woman’s confidence has captured him, and he’s more than willing to surrender to it. “I, umm, I like you too, Lynn…” Slowly, his lips curve upwards.

= = =

April and May became their courtship period, if that's still even a thing that people call.

For a start, proper dates have started to become a weekly thing for them after classes or outside their part-times. The first one was like most first dates. Awkward at first, but it ended smoothly. What made it more special was the fact it was on Lynn’s birthday. The second was a bit rough, not because of either one’s faults, but it’s more on their personal priorities clashing with their plans. It ended with their first kiss, so that compensated for it. The third date was better, even though they've only met up on campus that night.

Within those two months, the two learned a few more things about each other. Their mannerisms, habits, favorites. Junghoon would open the door for her whenever they entered the same building; Lynn would often buy him drinks or snacks whenever he’s working late. Still they always preferred meeting at affordable diners outside campus.

Now on their fourth date, they're no strangers to surprising each other with flirtations while facing each other on their table—but everything diverges the moment Lynn asks him the question: “Do you wanna head into my place?”

Junghoon’s eyes can only grow at the same time as he feels his parched throat.

As far as most of the dorm rooms he’s visited, Lynn’s place is pretty tidy, definitely more organized than most of his friends, Kotone included, though she lives with her family, so hers doesn’t count. Besides them, he hasn’t visited a tidier place since… The Mad Money Club. He brushes them off, reverting his attention back to his date while she’s watching the television… And stealing a few glances at him beside her… Just waiting and hoping for something, anything, while they’re on the sofa in the last seventeen minutes.

Lynn’s look has always enthralled him. Even if he couldn’t read her mind, something in Junghoon’s body pushes him to make the first move—leaning closer into her lips in the silence. With the remote control still in her hand, she extends her left hand without looking and presses the off button before tossing it on the floor, as her focus now shifts on his lips by placing both hands on each of his cheeks. Only following the desires of their bodies, Lynn’s lustful curiosity compels her tongue to stick out and touch his lips. Immediately sensing the sticky and slithery yet irresistible sensation from the woman’s mouth, Junghoon complies by widening his mouth, allowing his partner to initiate a dance between their tongues, having a taste of each other’s meals and drinks tonight.

With Lynn’s arms wrapping around his neck, their bodies lower down on the sofa, inadvertently pushing two pillows on the carpet below.

“Can I?” He asks first, even though the woman’s hands have already reached his crotch. Still, she nods at his question, allowing him to take the lead this moment. Taking off her shirt, he allows her to do the same to him. Junghoon leans to give her another kiss while his fingers trail up to his bra, unlocking them as they lock lips. Her breasts astound him, a reaction that even garners a giggle from Lynn herself. “Don’t just look…”

“Oh, majayo…” he stutters, forming an embarrassed smile. “Mianhae.”

He gives each mound a kiss, which tickles the woman with a titter. He stops to stand up from his seat, much to her confusion until she sees him unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants in front of her, also encouraging her to unzip her skirt while remaining seated, lifting up her legs in the air while taking her panties off.

With all their clothes on the floor, both parties are now in their bare forms, awaiting for one to take the other to the next step. Junghoon’s pubic hair is slightly trimmed, but his partner can't take her eyes off it nonetheless. Seeing something real up this close is just different from whatever she has watched through her phone screen, accidentally or not. Her cunt is also unshaven, but it doesn't faze him. Yet, a sudden thought is only making him hesitate—because of one unresolved question.

Before going in, he wants to make sure. He has to. “Is, uhh, this your first time?”

With a look of hesitation and embarrassment, Lynn only nods in silence a second time while turning her eyes from her partner, whose mouth slightly opens at her revelation.

“Gwenchana...” Deep down, he knows he has to say those words to her. “I’ll be gentle.” Hoping to provide more comfort and assurance, Junghoon slides his right hand across her shoulder, inciting a relaxing yet tingling sensation to Lynn as she braces herself with another nod, instinctively biting her lower lip, as Junghoon reaches to his pants lying on the floor. Pulling out one packet of condom—he can only thank his overthinking self that he even bought one from the convenience store on their way here. Lynn’s eyes are mixed with excitement and hesitation as she watches him wrap the latex around his erect shaft. He guides her on the edge of the sofa with his hand on her head, holding his other hand.

His cock has aligned with her entrance. “I’m putting it in, okay?” he reminds her gently. She nods for the third time, just as he slides inside her. “Auuuuggghhhh,” Lynn moans, unable to contain her mixed sensations of discomfort and arousal, her walls tightening around this foreign object as a quarter of it has entered her. It’s as tight as—No—don’t compare, he snaps into his thoughts, fixing his eyes only to this mesmerizing woman.

“I’ll start,” he reminds her again. “Just let me know if it hurts—”

“Just do it, please,” she whispers. He senses tension and desperation in her voice.

Junghoon nods and, with his hands gripped on the sofa’s arms, he makes his first thrust. “Nggggghhh,” Lynn’s teeth tightens its grip on her lower lip, mirroring the sensation of her cunt’s response to the movement of his shaft, feeling the motion around her walls. Her hands latch onto his waist before begging “Keep… going” with her soft cadence.

The longer he maintains his rhythm, the more he can feel her walls loosening. With this, her growing pleasure gradually diminishes the pain she initially felt upon his entry—her body finally giving into her libido. Now that Junghoon is reaching deeper with stronger and faster thrusts, he finds more of her sensitive spots, as if his tip was able to find and plucks invisible strings with every plunge, triggering moans from Lynn as their volume grows by the minute until pleasure overwhelms her senses. It’s a sensation she never expected she’d feel with someone. “Oppa… I–I can feel it. I'm c--close!” she howls.

The man triples his own speed, desperate to catch up with the woman’s nearing climax. Without much thought, he leans into her face, latching on his lips with hers in hopes of slowing her down until he begins to feel the buildup rising on his shaft. As his voice of reason strikes fear through his mind in the final thrust, he tightens his grip on the sofa arm—before pulling his cock out with a grunt, spilling his seed inside the condom. As he examines it, it's soaked with little blood. Thankfully the latex didn't break, he concludes with a sigh of relief. But, I’ve gotten a little rough than I should have. He takes a look at Lynn, as she huffs and puffs with her eyes half closed and a smile on her face. Seeing her cunt also leaking with fluid, Junghoon leans close to her forehead, giving it a smooch.

Both gasping for breath in the afterglow of their hard night work, having overcome their own lingering misgivings and hesitations and felt each other’s bodies for the first time.

Aside from her smile, Lynn's eyes appear to water, yet no tears are pouring. “H-how… How was I, oppa?” her smile remains uncontained.

“You were… amazing… Lynn,” Junghoon wheezes in disbelief. “I hope… I didn’t disappoint… You,” he continues, still voicing his concern for her. “Or hurt you.”

She places her hand on his left cheek, feeling each other’s warmth through her touch.

“You didn’t…” she chuckles. “Oppa, I'm glad… my first time… was with you.”

She moves her head upward, reaching his lips one more time, fueled with more passion, expressing her exhilaration, now that they have reached this point in their relationship. It may have been her first, but it’s the first of their many private adventures, exploring almost every corner of their bodies inside this safe space in the months that followed.

= = =

Two months later. The Seoul State Summer Festival has begun. It’s only been an hour since Lynn’s performance with the rest of her team had concluded, a special event that received a thunderous series of cheers and applause from the audience. And no thanks to his own training and errands outside campus, Junghoon barely managed to make it in time, but even up to this point, he still can’t get that sense of discontent off his skin, holding a red cup and standing inside a clubhouse living room, where dozens of other students have been celebrating in the past half an hour.

“You made it!” Lynn cheerfully runs to him with her wide smile.

“Thankfully, I did,” he chuckles. “But I almost missed your performance, Lynn… I didn't want that to happen.”

“It didn't, oppa…” she reassures him, reaching out to his hands. From her eyes, his face radiates uncertainty, perhaps discomfort, trying to be concealed by his usual easy going gestures. “But, I know what’ll make you feel better,” she softens and deepens her voice.

He raises his eyebrow, sensing the strands of his hair stand up at her tone. “What will?”

She leans to his ear, whispering “Follow me.” Without another word, the woman walks out of the almost crowded room, compelling Junghoon to start following her before he can lose track of Lynn amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces.

This afternoon has been a wild celebration for everyone present. As they walk outside the living room, he finds the pool filled with crazed and naked folks, some of whom are drunk under the sunlight. After a minute of following the leader, Junghoon tracks Lynn down inside a storage room.

She locks it in as soon as he enters, surprising him with a new look, albeit one he's already seen earlier. The rest of her clothes are hanging on the coat rack next to the shelf. “You like it, oppa?”

Under her attire, she’s wearing the same outfit from her performance. “I saw how wide your mouth was when I had my solo performance…” Junghoon tries to deny it, but his stutters have gotten in the way. “So I thought, why not give you a little surprise..?”

Without his restraints and through her kittenish move, he gives his answer by hungrily pouncing on her lips, mindlessly pinning her into the shelf of cleaning supplies behind her, immediately moving her to the wall on their right before they break something.

While their lips remain locked and their tongues tangled, Lynn gently pushes him to the other side of the room, pulling down his cargo pants from his garter in anticipation just as he also pulls down hers. At this point, it's open season with what they’ll do, with the only restraint that’s been holding themselves back being their own imaginations. Lynn makes her next move; the heat within the closed space compels her to take off her top.

“If it's alright with you,” Junghoon stops Lynn with his gentle hands, guiding them until their clothes are only halfway off her chest, accentuating them. “Keep ‘em… Like this.”

His move intrigues her, but she welcomes it nevertheless. She looks down on her own breasts, making her lips curve upwards. “Where do you get these kinds of ideas?”

“I’m not sure,” he confesses. “I just thought you'd look good in it. Try something new.”

As minutes have passed, Lynn keeps her hands gripped on both the edges of the shelf, while her lover gives her cunt a wild and somewhat rageful pounding. He takes turns putting her breasts into his salivating mouth, as he nibbles on both nipples while his hands make their way to her ass, doubling the volume of her moans. Alerted by her, Junghoon takes one hand to cover her mouth while continuing his deeper plunges. Eventually, he catches her mumbling through his hand. “What is it?” he whimpers, releasing his hand to fix her scruffy and now sweaty hair to the side of her left ear.

“I’m safe—today,” she murmurs before mustering enough breath to yell, “Please, do it!”

Holding her onto her tender cheek as firm as he can, he gives a final thrust and fires his load inside her womb. Lynn’s final orgasm-triggered holler stops as her voice creaks into silence and heaves with peace—exchanging each other’s breath without complaint. Their bodies remain in embrace, with his member still inside her. Lynn tightens her hold of her, with her arms wrapped around his back, feeling the warmth of their seeds leaking while their chests are compressed together.

Junghoon leans in to give her another long kiss, which neither of them hope would end, if only his phone didn’t start flickering and buzzing loudly inside his pants, on the floor. He pulls his shaft out of her carefully to reach the device, leaving his partner with a look of concern towards him.

Putting his right ear on the phone, Lynn can only watch and listen to his polite responses. “Ne, ne, I understand. I'll be there in five minutes… Joesonghamnida, gyosunim.”

As the call ends after half a minute, Junghoon faces her with a face that she has and can only read as one expression. “We’re supposed to have a consultation with our thesis advisor. Mianhae.” Disappointment emerges on both parts, albeit different ways of expressing it. “I promise that I'll make it up to you next time, okay?” he tells her while putting on his underwear and pants. “I'm really, really sorry, Lynn-ah.”

“It’s…” She wants him to stay. Just a couple more minutes. Introduce him to her friends. Have a late lunch, even by themselves. Hang out back at her place. “It’s okay, oppa. Just work on your final requirements. Hwaiting!” she cheers on him with a raised fist.

“Gomawo,” he tells her. After giving Lynn a quick peck to her lips, Junghoon walks out of the storage room, caring little about any passersby in the hallway, and rushes outside the venue. Thankfully, there aren't any, for Lynn’s sake while she dresses up.

Left inside the room, she stares right at the door, with her mind going blank. Her index and middle slowly touch her own lips, forming only one deduction. His lips don't feel as warm as they used to. On the other hand, her sense of optimism hopes that this will be the only time she’s felt him ‘like this,’ but hope… It can only get someone so far.

= = =

June. Only a month has passed since their most intimate time, yet things between them have become… Colder, to say the least, as it’s blistering through the summer heat. Their routines would continue, but not always together. Junghoon ended his library duties. They would only text each other. Lynn finds more time to hang out with her closest friends, at least more than she usually does in the past few months. And despite his physical absence, Junghoon kept lingering in her mind the longer they parted in person. As her patience runs thin, Lynn would ask around some of his friends whenever she crossed paths with them on campus.

“I haven’t seen him today, no. Not even last week,” Hyerin told her on Monday, moments after their practice. “Is everything alright with you two, unnie?”

“Unfortunately, no, Lynn-ssi. We’ve only been texting lately, ‘cause our schedules are too different.” On Tuesday, she asked Kim Myungsoo, whom she only knew was taking his masters degree. “Do you want me to call him up? I can tell him you—” She politely declined, realizing that she’s not the only one who he has been seeing a lot less lately.

“Oppa’s been very busy, unnie.” Soomin didn’t have much to tell her on Wednesday. “Even after his thesis with Honggi-oppa worked out, he kept working and working. My parents tried to talk him out of it, but I’m not sure if he even listened... Wait, did he not tell you?” Of course, she wouldn’t know. He wouldn’t have told her either. But Soomin is his family. She’s his cousin, her mind justifies.

On Thursday, she spotted Honggi outside the Tourism and Hotel Management Building. “He didn’t tell you? He’s been cooking for the training center for a month now. Most of his training ended in April, but he wanted a gig until graduation.”

On Friday, she stopped when Sion and Hayeon had asked to meet up at a campus café.

“I know I said that I liked you with him before, but I also said it to you before, unnie. With what's been going with you lately, I’ll say it. Junghoon-sunbae may not be that different from other men.”

She’s in a state of limbo, stuck with unresolved and unanswered questions about him.

“Hayeon-ah!” Sion slightly raises her voice at Hayeon, snapping Lynn back to their concerning conversation. “This isn't helping anyone.”

“It's okay, girls,” Lynn tries to de-escalate the tension between the two with her gentle tone. “He must have been working and training a lot...” She remembers all the things Junghoon’s friends have answered, yet doubt already takes over her mind.

“So have you,” Hayeon interjects, maintaining her firm tone. “You're a freaking dance major. You’ve been practicing for almost three years now, and yet—you still spent most of your time meeting up with him for three months, for some reason! Where's his effort to meet with you?”

“We’ve gone on a few dates this—”

“All you do is go on dates or ‘hang out’ elsewhere… But are you guys going anywhere?”

Not even Sion can keep raising her tone. She heard Hayeon loud and clear. “As much as Hayeon is too out of line… she still has a point. We just don't want you to get hurt.”

“Majayo, unnie,” Hayeon adds, lowering her voice out of respect as her eyes beg Lynn’s. “Think about yourself too, unnie.”

“I'm doing fine, Sion-ie… Hayeon-ah, we’re doing fine.” She keeps telling them, just as she keeps telling herself those three words.

Unbeknownst to the two, Lynn has seen a few glimpses of Junghoon having his own nightmares to deal with, but she was too hesitant to ask him about it. And he's not letting her in while his own phantoms and nightmares tear him up from the inside, making it more burdensome for her since her frantic mind can't help but speculate and speculate for days and weeks, while her friends can only watch her make up excused and voice out their worries for her during their hangouts or virtual conversations.

Ding. She finally receives a text, opening it within a second.

[Junghoon-oppa: Hey…]

[Can we talk?]

The woman swallows her throat, feeling mixes of relief, irritation, and nervousness.

Both the two senses her unease. “What's the matter?” Sion asks first.

“Is that him?” Hayeon asks, before taking another sip of her milk tea. Rolling her eyes, Lynn only types her response to him in silence. Sion slowly shakes her head at Hayeon, only glancing at their friend with concern while she takes a smaller bite of her croissant, unlike she usually does. As much as they’re compelled to help, they let this one play out.

[Lynn: Sure, oppa]

[Where do you wanna meet?]

= = =

Later that afternoon, they meet up at the restaurant. One they had their first ‘proper’ date in. There's no orders from either, only each a glass of water on their side of the table. Awkwardness and uncertainty spread across the air-conditioned atmosphere.

She takes a risk by shooting a certain question at him. “Have you been cheating on me?”

“No,” he answers. She looks deep into his dead eyes, he doesn’t seem fazed by her interrogation, even if they both know it came out of nowhere. “I wasn't.”

“Who is Hyerin-ssi to you?” she continues pushing through. “And that other woman?”

She herself has known Hyerin. But not as much as Hyerin knows Junghoon. As much as she knows Junghoon from Hyerin, or any other friends he’s had on campus. Since their second date, a lot of new things she’s heard and learned about him were from them.

“Yubin? They’re both my friends… Lynn, I've known them since I was a sophomore.”

Lynn is aware of that, considering Junghoon has told her since they first got acquainted. Nothing she’s learned about him seems to raise a red flag, because she’s witnessed those things about him, and it’s what’s been bothering her for a while—eating her from inside.

She knows this won't lead anywhere else, even if she keeps accusing him of things. Even if he is only opening up now and answering all her questions, it is not helping her regain her trust towards him. Towards herself. If they’ve only talked about these things earlier.

“Oh…” She freezes in silence, slowly realizing her own misstep. “But I don’t know if I can believe that. Believe you.” Yet her pride keeps her going. Going past her voices of reason.

“You don’t have to…” he shoots back, maintaining his lower tone. Her eyes slowly darted at him, trying to read his face. Through his soul, it’s as if she feels Junghoon’s loneliness. “And I know we haven't spent more time lately, but can we just talk—”

“Talk about what?” A hint of annoyance and bitterness mixes in with her tone, having had enough of his innocent voice, which kept on enticing her since the night they met.

“About this,” he sighs. “About whatever’s going on with us.”

Her eyes widened. Hearing those words It's inevitable, he realizes. “What about us?”

He clenches his hands under the table, mirroring the feeling of his own tightening heart. “What do you feel about us..? About me?”

She wants to tell him how much she has loved his company. His touch. His voice. His presence. “You've barely opened up to me.” She’s realized what his question insinuates. “I just, I don’t even know how to feel because you wouldn’t tell me what’s been worrying you whenever I see you worried… I don’t even know how you're feeling or what you have been up to lately.”

The moments they’ve had throughout the months, she’s explored every corner of his face and body. Yet as a person, she knows little of him, beyond some of his favorite things or his interests. Just this point—a realization strikes her. She doesn't know what they are. Everything in the last couple of months has felt mundane, overindulgent—incomplete.

“I know,” he mutters, still holding his stone cold front together with her. “I messed up.”

“Why are you agreeing to everything I'm saying?” almost raising her voice, clawing the wooden surface of the table. As her hands clench, her long nails leave their marks. The customers nearest to them can only peek a glance at them, but this pair can’t care less.

“Because you're right…” His voice almost cracks. “You didn't deserve any of this. You're a sweet and kind woman, Lynn-ah. And I took you for granted… I was being selfish. I’m at fault for not paying attention, for not finding and making more time to be with you as much as you have with me. For not being open with you enough.”

Silence follows their table for a moment. He has taken her words right out of her mouth, and she can only let him speak out with a disheartened spirit. He’s given up, she dreads.

“Look me in the eye… And tell me if this is still something that you wanna keep going.”

Through his eyes, she catches a glimpse of his soul. There’s nothing to read between the lines. Just hints of fatigue, loneliness, insecurity. There are no words for her to counter. Her beating heart yearns to say ‘yes’ till her mind stops her from doing so, encouraging her instead to consider his sincere words. For her to listen to her own reason.

“You know too,” he surmises in her absence of a response. “There's nothing to have from this. I don't want you to keep getting hurt and disappointed because of my excuses.”

“They weren't excuses,” she tries to defend him, quickly picking up the shrapnel of his crumbling façade, even if his continuous barrage of discouragement keeps on prickling and piercing her confidence from the inside. “They’re not even lies.”

“What do you call them then? False promises?” he sighs in discontent. “In the last few months, that’s all I could give you while you gave more than company and attention.”

Even if her mouth can’t say it to him, her heart doesn't regret any of it. ”So have you. Did you just throw away all those memories, all those moments we’ve had, from your mind?”

“I didn’t…” he looks down, still racked with guilt. “But will those things be all that we do? Will you be fine with that, Lynn? Will your friends even be okay with that?”

A burning sensation surges through her voice. “Why the hell would my friends care if—”

Lynn halts herself, realizing the error of her own words. Even Junghoon is in disbelief. The woman can only cover her face with both her palms—groaning at her own actions. Sion or Hayeon will let it slide if they hear her say it, but she won’t ever forgive herself. She knows that leaving her best friends for some guy she’s seeing is the last thing she’s doing. Even if it’s someone like Junghoon.

She lets out a chuckle. “We've been pretending like things are fine, aren’t we? At least, I am. And we still kept on going, dinners, sleepovers, sex, and all that... For a second, I’ve forgotten my friends, while we forgot how to act like a normal couple. I’m not even sure if we were one to begin with.”

Junghoon himself doesn't have an answer for her last sentiment. He can only hear his own heart beating faster.

“What am I to you, oppa?” she continues, her deepest, more hopeful yet desperate self craving words and phrases. Someone he wants to spend more time with. Someone he wants to fight for. Someone he wants to make up with. Someone he wants to love.

But he looks up to her, his eyes now radiating with guilt and sorrow. “I—I’m not sure…”

She feels a pang in her heart, hurting with every beat the longer she faces him. Voices in her think in various ways to cope with the inevitable, as facts and her speculations clash. Cheating would have been better. Maybe he is, we should keep going. It doesn't matter. He's leaving, anyway. But that doesn't mean we can't stay together! I hate this feeling, but I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels like shit right now, even though I’m the one getting dumped after all. There’s no point in fighting him over this. She thought she’d felt something special with him. Now, she realizes… They’re not different from others.

Yet, with all the conflict going on in her mind and heart, she simply straightens her posture and looks up to him with a soft smile on her face. “Geurae… Let's end this.”

Her response confounds Junghoon, contrary to what he’s been bracing himself for. Her smile doesn’t match with her watery eyes, racking him up with more guilt as he pushes through, feeling that whatever he could’ve done better wouldn’t make much difference.

“I felt like I was using you, and I didn't keep up with you… I'm sorry for not being—”

“You weren’t,” she interrupts him. “I could argue the same thing with myself… I know you weren't my first, but you were still the first one who treated me like I was enough. Like I was worthy of being loved.”

His eyes widened at her confession, the impulsive region of his mind urging him to say that she’s worthy of love. But not the other way around, as it's something he can't give.

“Still, I understand what you mean,” she continues. “About us not spending too much time together. Our lives haven't been aligning with our plans, I get it. With whatever I wanted to see ourselves... With whatever we don’t… I think it’s better this way, oppa.”

They both knew whatever they had wasn’t love. But they’ll have to live with that truth. They rushed in, and they made a fool of themselves for not handling the consequences now that they’ve reached this point.

She offers his hand, much to his surprise. “It was nice knowing you, Geum Junghoon.” She has nothing left to gain if she keeps up this front, only what remains of her pride. Even though it's already been shattered by their cold and rough yet honest exchange.

Junghoon hesitantly takes her hand. Slowly, he gets up from his seat, his somber face remains as he looks down to face her. “Take care, Lynn-ah…”

Lynn gives him one final look, hiding through her smile. “You too, Junghoon-oppa...”

Without him around, Lynn slowly feels moisture building up on her vision while the beats on her chest slows down, becoming heavier—like an anchor plummeting on the seafloor, over and over again. She knows this feeling will pass; she knows there was no love between them, but she has already been overwhelmed by the silent yet tumultuous clashing of different emotions in her heart. Outside, Junghoon walks along the sidewalk as his tears drip down, yet his face remains stone cold. He knows he's broken someone's heart, and he can't take that back. Inside the restaurant, muffled whimpers grow louder.

The sun starts to sink on the horizon as the purple skies hover above a sleepless Seoul.

= = =

A couple of weeks later, Junghoon finally graduates with flying colors, accompanied by his closest friends and relatives with a humble smile. Lynn goes with her morning class with her friends, but not without catching his presence from afar. From the fourth floor of their building, she looks at the window, seeing the outdoor stage, still swarming with graduates yet somehow, her eyes catch Junghoon walking with joyful faces she can only recognize as Kotone, Honggi, Myungsoo, and Soomin, while the rest appear new to her. She barely knew any of them. Maybe in another life, that was the case. In a warmer, less rushed, and more balanced season, she’d probably get along well with him and his small social circle.

Such a wishful thought allows a soft smile to form on her face, trying to ease the pain that is now simmering through her still recovering heart.

“Lynn-chan!” She hears Sion’s high-pitched voice before turning around to see her and Hayeon standing next to the pair of doors, waiting for her while the remainder of their classmates flock outside. “It’s lunch break… You coming with us or not..? They have a new milk tea at the bakery. I don’t wanna miss out on their restacked soufflés either!”

But enough what ifs… Enough of him and his friends. She has her own.

She chuckles out of embarrassment, pushing herself to wrap up her bags in a rush and rush to their spot. “Mianhae, mianhae, girls… It’ll be my treat, arasseo? Both of you.”

“Daebak! You should know that’s one deal we definitely can’t say no to now, unnie,” Hayeon cheers on just as she rushes out through the open doors while wearing her brown, spiky-textured backpack. “Gaja!”

Sion can only give her friend a comforting and empathetic smile, rubbing her back. Lynn expresses her gratitude with a smile and her watery eyes, yet not a drop of tear has fallen out of them. “You doing okay?” she asks.

“I—uhhh—I don’t know,” she admits. “But… I am feeling better, I guess.”

“It will get better, Lynn-chan,” she reassures. “Don’t hesitate to tell us about it, okay?”

“Gomawo,” Lynn nods, pulling herself and wrapping her arms around her dear friend. “You know, I don't think I can get through this without having you two around, right?”

“Of course,” Sion murmurs, offering the warmth of her embrace in hopes that it will heal Lynn's broken heart. “We’re always gonna be here for you, Lynnie… Whether you meet some tolerable bad boy or another nice guy with baggage, we’re not letting you forget your worth.”

They chuckle at her remark, before taking a glance at the hallway to see Hayeon still walking fast, now a few meters away from them. “Come on,” Sion takes a step forward. “You better not let Hayeon wait for us in the lobby downstairs... Otherwise, she’s gonna try and double your treat.”

“Hayeon-ah!” Sion hollers as they both follow Hayeon’s steps through the hallway. “Yah, just wait up, you hungry hedgehog!”

“The deal's off once you've made it to the elevator!” Lynn chimes in with a wide smile, remembering Sion’s advice just then. “Maja!” Sion adds. “You heard that, Hayeon-ah?”

Within seconds, they see their friend rushing back to their direction, prompting the two to slow down their pace as they cackle at Hayeon’s instant change of movement. “Fine!” she whines with a pout. “But now that I'm here, no more backsies, arasseo?”

To others, their short-lived relationship might as well be simplified as a spring and summer fling, and they’re not entirely wrong. But, to themselves, it is one that would shape their futures. Their seasons of memories and mistakes would mold them with their decisions on how they would perceive love, how they would act on it. How they would learn from it and live with it, even if it may hurt them in the end. Perhaps it’s better to feel the thrills of lust, the pains of heartbreak, and the hardships of romance—even if it may not be “true love”—than to never feel those things at all.

= = =

This went longer than I originally intended. it may also feel rushed in some parts, but I just wanted to get it done, even if it may not have come out amazingly.

Although this fic has always been my plan, I'll also write a lynn fic that's more hopeful down the line. I know it's a fic, but I still kinda feel bad lol, though this is my attempt at an angst-slash-smut fic.

Still, my next one (about someone else) will def be less angsty than this. However, for now, thanks for reading, and have a nice day!

#kpop au #male reader #kpop fluff #male reader smut #kpop smut #male reader fluff #triples fluff #triples smut #kpop angst

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mrrharper · 10 months ago

Text

Army Surplus

Why Jake walked into the Army Surplus store, he didn’t know why exactly he did that. It was probably boredom. He’d been roaming the streets of downtown for a while, not having anything to do before his date that evening, so on a whim he decided to go inside. The store was located in a basement of one of these old, 19th century row houses and the entire space was filled with clothes, used gear and tons of little things left behind by the military.

As Jake walked around stacks of boxes he noticed the guy sitting behind the counter. He was an older man wearing a camo jacket and aviator sunglasses, and his haircut screamed Army. Maybe he was a veteran and ran the place as a way to connect with his past.

He didn’t find anything really worth buying, after all Jake was not into anything military related, but he would feel guilty walking out empty handed, so he ended up with a cheap pair of sunglasses and a chain with a pair of random dog tags attached. He walked up to the counter and handed the items to the older man, who looked at him and a slight grin appeared on his previously very stoic face.

“Haven’t seen you around here.” He extended his hand towards Jake. “I’m Lieutenant George Foster.”

“Oh, uhm” Jake clumsily shared the man’s hand, not expecting an interaction to occur between the two of them. “And uhh… I’m Jake… sir. I was just walking along the street when I uhhh… when I noticed this… place.”

“I see, I see” The veteran nodded as he added up the price of the items Jake picked up. “I hope I’ll see you around more often, son.”

“Well, uhhhhh, maybe, I’m… I’m not really into…” Jake didn’t know hat to say so he vaguely moved his hands around. The older man chuckled.

“Of course, son” He handed Jake the dog tags and the sunglasses back. “That’ll be 12.55.” Jake quickly paid for the items with his phone and put them in his pocket.

“Thanks” He nodded to the other man and left the store, even as he heard the veteran say something in his direction. That entire space didn’t feel quite right and the way the older man behaved didn’t help that feeling.

But as he walked out of the store and into the street a thought appeared in Jake’s mind. He had to put the dog tags on. Just to see how they looked on him. He was a never the type of guy to wear necklaces, jewelry or stuff like that, but he felt an urge to see the two pieces of metal dangling over his chest. He took them out of his pocket and put them on, then quickly shot a selfie of himself to see how they looked. And they looked fine. Just a thin steel ball chain around his neck and the dog tags resting on his rather flat pecs. Jake shrugged and started walking again, still having a lot of time to spare before his date.

He didn’t realize that the moment he put the chain around his neck, his body started changing. Slowly at first, a bit more hair appearing under his armpits and on his chest and legs, his neck getting thicker and his cock gaining girth and length. But after that, the big changes began. His pecs shot outwards, turning into meaty pillows. His shoulders widened, his arms exploded with muscles, his biceps now the size of footballs. His stomach expanded, now thicker and with abs clearly visible. His legs grew longer as well, and the muscles on them ballooned and hardened.

When the physical changes were complete Jake, still oblivious to any of them, stopped walking. Another thought appeared in his mind. A similar urge as last time, but now it was about the sunglasses. He needed to put them on. He reached into his pocket and took out a pair of basic military-style sunglasses and put them on his head. Right after that, he felt a sharp pain at the back of his skull, as if a needle had been forced into his brain. He leaned against a nearby tree and waited for the pain to go away.

When the pain did go away Sergeant… wait, what was his name? He looked around and realized he did not know where he was. That was concerning. But he knew he couldn’t panic. He was a soldier, he would deal with this. First thing. For some reason he couldn’t remember his name. That was concerning, but he decided to deal with this later. Now onto the second, more important thing - where was he. He looked around for a few minutes, but nothing came up in his mind. He was lost. Then he realized what he had to do. He had to find his commanding officer, who would know how to deal with Sergeant’s issues. Yes, that was the solution.

As if on autopilot, the soldier turned around and quickly walked along the street, led by something akin to muscle memory. After a shot walk he went into a store located in a basement of one of the row houses and walked up to the counter.

“Sir, Sergeant reports on duty.” He barked as he saluted the older man standing on the other side of the counter.

“At ease, soldier.” Lieutenant had a grin on his face, he was clearly glad that Sergeant found him. “I applaud You for coming here so fast, Sergeant Fox” Oh right, Fox, that was his name. “I need men like you in my team.”

“Sir, yes Sir!” Fox responded instantly.

“I’m glad you’ve decided to become a member of my squad, serving obediently under my command.” The older man walked around the counter and came up to one of the boxes standing on the floor. From there he picked up a combat shirt with the US flag on one shoulder and a patch with the words “Army Property” on the other. He tossed it to Fox. “Put this on, son. From this point you officially become an American Soldier under my command. And the property of the US Army.”

Fox felt an instant urge to obey the order coming from the Lieutenant, so he quickly ripped the thigh t-shirt he was wearing previously and put on the uniform form his commanding officer. After a few minutes he was also wearing dark green tactical pants and heavy military boots. He was in full uniform.

“Now tell me Sergeant, are you ready to serve this country? Serve me?”

“Sir, yes Sir” Fox saluted once again, feeling the weight of the Lieutenant’s questions. “I will fulfill my purpose as a soldier! I will obey your every word, Sir!” That earned him a smile form the older man, who walked up to him and patted him on the shoulder.

“I’m glad to hear that son.” He then turned around and was about to go back behind the counter when he thought of something. “And one more thing, soldier. Are you gay by any chance?” Fox didn’t flinch at the question, just looked straight ahead and nodded.

“Yes Sir, I experience homosexual tendencies.”

“Do you act on them?”

“Yes, Sir.” Fox barked in response, his face completely neutral. The older man was clearly displeased by the answer and he walked to the other side of the store, looking for something, with a scowl on his face.

He came back a minute later with a camo baseball cap with the words “Property of US Army” on it.

“Put it on.” He ordered, and Fox obeyed instantly. He put the cap on his head and instantly felt a little dizzy. His brain was bombarded with images of hunky military men dominating women, relentlessly fucking their tight pussies. His balls expanded slightly and his cock got hard in a flash. His ass changed slightly, becoming smaller but more muscular, and his hole closed in tight - from now on it would not allow anything to enter.

“Soldier, are you gay?” Lieutenant asked after a few moments. Fox growled in response, looking at his superior officer with anger and disgust on his face.

“No sir, I’m not one of these degenerates.” He responded quickly.

“Good, I need real men in my army.” The other man said, pleased with the response he got. “How let’s get to work, soldier. We have a country to make right.”

#gay to straight tf #soldier tf

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hexwhore · 5 months ago

Note

OMGG YASS maybe #13 w Vik and Reader finally taking it to 3rd after dating for a while and at first they’re kinda beating around the bush and then they both get super needy and desperate??

Hey bad news. I kinda forgot what 3rd base equated to until, uhh, right now. After I wrote this whole thing. Oops. 🫠 Ya get 1.2k of a home run instead.

Tags/Warnings: 18+, Viktor x GN Reader (any anatomy), sloppy undergrad makeout, penetrative sex, first time (together or in general, you decide!), he fucks but the rizz is still in development.

In the quiet dark, warm and unravelled, Viktor remembers the window. First, that he left it unlatched, then that he has nothing worth stealing. He would—a tidy set of thermodynamic calculations, due next week—if not for two sharp taps on the dirty glass windowpane that made him put down his pen oversoon.

He remembers it clearly, how he reached over and tucked aside the curtain. A face staring back out of the dark should’ve startled him, but it was only yours: impatient and beseeching in a sliver of yellow light. He stared at you like a figment of his calculus addled mind for a beat too long, until your anxious gestures that spelled hurry the hell up spurred him from his desk. He flipped the latch and eased it open so that, well past midnight, you came scrabbling in through his dormitory window and kissed him breathless where he stood.

In hindsight, he was lucky that you did. Would he have licked into your mouth with as much fervor had your roles been reversed? Had you laughed into that kiss and called him ridiculous, brimming with affection though it was?

“All the doors were locked,” you said in your defense, and he merely devoured it. Let you weave your fingers through his short, neat hair and pull him impossibly close to sway in your arms, in the current of your affections, until his lungs ached for a full breath.

He broke to nose against your cheek and murmured, “As it’s late, yes.”

As if the spell had been broken, you eased away further. The hands that clutched and cradled his face slipped down to cup his elbows instead, supplementing his balance more gently than any cane. “Too late?” you asked, and he could hear which answer you wanted.

Viktor wanted the same.

And then when he got it, when you kicked off your shoes and crawled into his bed, he simply wanted.

But tucked together on his narrow, academy-standard mattress, the natural progression of lips and teeth and tongue ran up against a familiar limit. You’d let him spill down your knuckles. Watched him fuck his own fist. You’ve knelt with his cock in your mouth, and had his fingers in the hot clutch of your body. He’d helped you rut against the hard seam of his pants until you shuddered apart into the crook of his neck, embarrassed, and then helped you do it as many more times as it took for you to never feel that way again. And while he understood that intimacy didn’t always follow a linear progression—that it didn’t have a fixed mouths to hands to holes trajectory—the base, human urge to shove his cock between your legs bled into his thoughts. Constantly.

Painfully hard, it twitched as if rubbed against the cloying warmth of that long held fantasy. No doubt you felt its insistence against your leg, draped across his lap, as you punctuated each throb with wet little bruises left beneath the edge of his collar. Your hands roamed. You urged your chest into his. You seemed eager, certainly.

But there had once been a discussion of taking it slow, and he did not know propriety’s rate of decay. He supposed it was instinctual. Wondered if he’d be able to differentiate intuition from selfish need. And thus a quiet fear had taken root: that he would lose his first and only friend here having first pushed to be more, then for more from you before it was right.

The very same you who blindly plucked open his shirt buttons and shoved it off his bony shoulders; who reached for his trousers next and eased them open, smearing his lips with the sort of desperate, earnest affection that made his blood burn and his hands shake. They seemed to move of their own volition.

One slipped from your face, his finger hooking the neck of your shirt. He breathed a hasty, thoughtless, “Off,” into your mouth, then added, “please,” but your hands stilled at his waist. He pulled a hair’s breadth away, just enough to search for discomfort as he knew it on your face. “Is it so wrong to want you naked in my bed?” he asked quietly.

The cant of your head betrayed nothing. “What for?”

“So that I can…” Taste your skin, breathe its scent, learn your body’s blueprint. Know you, touch you, kiss you; slake your filthy thirst better than anyone who came before. “So that we may…” But what if you don’t want to?

You drew a long breath in through your nose, then filled in the word: “Fuck?”

“Yes, thank you, I—” he swallowed audibly “—didn’t want to be presumptuous…” You seemed very, very pleased. It empowered the crude, languid way he echoed, “Fuck,” and that first hard constant struck like flint to kindling.

Your shirt hit the floor first, everything after it a blur of grasping, groping reverence until you knelt stripped bare beside him; traced his clavicle with great care and asked if he was ready.

He nodded.

You slung your leg back over his lap. He felt lightheaded enough just watching your lips part, concentrated, lining him up where you ought to be filled, but then you sunk down. Then you started moving—riding him until the headboard struck the wall in time with your hips, and he truly had no other fucks to give about who heard that rythmic slam or the sounds that came out of him. Out of you.

His heels dug against the sheets, his fingers into your thighs, and suddenly the hot wave of pleasure wasn’t building so much as breaking, far sooner than he wanted. But you knew. Knew exactly how you wanted this to end too, and from above you said—

“What are you thinking about?”

He blinks your face into focus. It fills his field of view—not above, but curled beside him in the gauzy aftermath of it all. Sleepy and spent and sharing his pillow like a secret, your limbs thread together in lovers knots. Yes, this is good too.

“You feel…” he murmurs, his hand tracing down your back, mapping the feel of your skin. No word for it is all-encompassing; can’t do the high of this proper justice. After so much guilt-stricken time, still but friends then, imagining how you might look and feel slotted naked against him, it would take a dissertation.

The wires cross, and he defaults to blunt observation. Chooses the word, “Warm,” when he should’ve reached for amazing. Wishes he were ready to call you something like milovaný after that, but it will come in time: an endearment that is entirely, uniquely yours. Not one so tied up in his childhood memories.

You sweep the dark, sticky hair from his forehead, lulling his heavy eyes shut. “You’re very sweaty yourself,” you hum, and he can hear the smile in your voice. “Don’t worry, you’ve turned my brain to soup too.”

He asks, “What kind?” because it is in his nature, even though he’s starting to slip away.

He’s still present enough, though, to hear the answer and huff a laugh. It’s a good one—his favorite. It’s, “Borscht.”

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor x gn!reader #reader insert #arcane x reader #mdni #my writing #if you know what or who I was referencing we're making out sloppy style next #what is the point in writing if i cant lovingly point at my buddies fics

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eliciana · 4 months ago

Text

Reverse SAGAU: The Weird Door At My Café

Masterlist

Blog Navigation

Tw: Reverse!Isekai!Sagau, Normal Au, Café Au.

Reader: Gn!Reader, Adult!Reader, Cafe Owner!Reader

Characters: Reader, Traveler, Paimon

Note: Restaurant to Another World animanga inspired au. There is a taglist if you want to be tagged.

I am also sorry about the sudden disappearance guys. I fell down the stairs and somehow got into a coma. I fear that this is because of the AO3 curse bcs I was going to publish one of my works there so uhh ig I won't now bcs of what happened. Sorry about that guys. I woke up a week ago and I'm now a-okay. }

As a compensation, I am planning to release 3-4 chapters after this week :)

____________________________________

Its been 2 weeks since the Traveler and Paimon had known about the existence of your otherworldy café, and within that time period, you guys have learned that the door only appears on Teyvat at weekedays. Both of them were devastated at the news. Literally. They spent their whole weekdays with you, they were pouting and whining at how they won't be able to talk to you much more or taste your meals, pastry, and refreshments though, the complaints mostly came from Paimon.

Their sincere sadness, pouts, and sorrowful eyes tugged at your heartstrings, evoking strong sympathy for both of them. They seem to clearly love your creations far more than anything they could prepare or purchase for themselves, so you made up your mind to surprise them for their lovely company and advices in making much more better food. You put your very heart and soul into making something special for your dearly beloved friends, hoping that they won't look so down as much as before when it is time for them to say goodbye.

You were so absorbed in organizing and preparing your suprise that the weekend almost passed you by. You looked at the old ticking clock besise the cashier register and saw that it was 6:55 pm, which was only a few minutes before your scheduled meeting time. You hastily cleaned up after hiding the suprise somewhere they can't quite see. You didn't want any people to recognize them because it would cause tons of trouble not only for you but for Traveller and Paimon as well. So you decided to meet up every 7:00 pm after you close for the day.

At exactly when the clock struck 7:00 pm the door you were once so afraid opened, the soft chime of the bell announced the arrival of your guests. Clearing your throat, you called out cheerfully, 'Welcome, dear customers! Feel free to sit anywhere you like!' The sound of the Traveller’s soft giggles reached your ears, and you turned to greet them with a warm smile. 'Hello, Boss!' they responded in unison, their familiar voices filling the room with an air of comfort and familiarity.

"(Reader)!!!!", Paimon exclaimed, twirling around you like an excited cat seeing its owner after a long time of absence. Though, instead of nearly tripping over her, you found yourself feeling quite a bit dizzy with her rapid spins round you. Thankfully, the Traveller noticed and swiftly grabbed Paimon by the collar of her clothing. "GAAHHH!", she yelped, her playful demeanor momentarily interrupted. "Could you stop spinning around (Reader) for a moment? They're getting quite a bit dizzy with your twirls." the Traveller gently scolded her, a hint of amusement in their voice.

“Hehe, it’s okay! But, Paimon, could you keep your spinning to a minimum? I won’t be able to greet you properly if I suddenly pass out from all the dizziness,” you teased, a playful smile on your face. Paimon’s expression shifted to one of shock. “NOOO! (Reader)! You still need to make me delicious foodddd!” she exclaimed, kicking her feet in the air as if throwing a tantrum. “Come on, Paimon. (Reader)’s just joking with you,” the Traveller said with a sigh, rolling their eyes at Paimon’s dramatic antics.

“Now, let’s settle down, shall we? I have a new item on the menu today. Would you like to give it a try? Here it is; you can read the description and decide if you want to sample it,” you said, handing them two menus. Paimon scrutinized the menu intently before shouting, “The same as usual, (Reader)! And also, one order of the new item!”

The Traveller smiled and added, “I’ll have one Cheesy Tortellini and Sausage Bake, one Creamy Chicken and Rice Soup, and one Iced Pumpkin Cream Chai.”

“Oh my! That’s quite a feast! Rough day?” you asked, taking notes of their orders. “I’ll make sure to throw in some extras for you.”

"*Sigh*, yes. It was a really rough day. *mumble**mumble*." You couldn't quite pick up what they said after but it seems that they truly had a real hard time judging by their deep sigh and slumped shoulders.

You went straight to the kitchen to whip up their orders while you kept a close eye on the suprise that you still kept hidden.

After a flurry of activity in the kitchen, you finally finished preparing their orders. With a warm smile, you approached the table, balancing the plates with practiced ease. "Alright, you two, no more frowning," you chided playfully, setting the dishes down one by one. "Dig in! You must be starving by now."

As you arranged the plates, you added with a wink, "Oh, and I threw in some Strawberry Creampuffs—compliments of the house. Consider it a little treat for my favorite duo."

Paimon's eyes widened to the size of saucers, her tiny hands already reaching for the pastries before you could even finish speaking. "Wait, for free?! (Reader), you're the best!" she squealed, clutching a creampuff like it was a treasure. She took a bite, and her face lit up with pure delight. "Mmm! These are heavenly! Paimon could eat a hundred of these!" She floated in the air, twirling with joy, her excitement infectious.

The Traveler chuckled softly, shaking their head at Paimon's antics. "Thank you, (Reader). You really didn’t have to, but we appreciate it." They picked up a creampuff, their expression softening as they took a bite. "These are amazing. You’ve outdone yourself again."

You leaned against the table, watching them enjoy the food with a satisfied grin. Seeing their smiles was always worth the effort.

"Alright, alright, take your time eating," you said with a soft chuckle, stepping back from the table. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything." With a warm smile, you turned and made your way to the back, your mind already buzzing with excitement.

You had a surprise for them—a special thank-you gift. Since the door doesn't appear on the weekends, you’d spent the last few days preparing an extravagant feast. It was your way of showing gratitude for their constant companionship and the joy they brought into your life. The portions were enormous, enough to last them for days—or, knowing Paimon, maybe just one. You smirked to yourself, wondering how they’d even carry it all. But then again, the Traveler’s magical inventory space was a blessing in disguise, so you’d gone all out without a second thought.

Your café had been thriving lately, with a steady stream of wealthy customers placing large commission orders. The influx of money was more than welcome, though the workload was starting to wear on you. Juggling the demands of your high-profile clients and the everyday crowd was exhausting. Maybe it was time to hire some help. The idea struck you like a bolt of inspiration, and you quickly pulled out your phone to jot it down in your notes. Hire workers. Soon. 3 workers perhaps.

But for now, your focus was on the present—literally. You glanced at the array of pastries you’d set aside earlier. Paimon’s delighted squeals from the dining area echoed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but smile. Why not add a little more? You had plenty of leftovers from today, and serving them tomorrow didn’t sit right with you. Giving them to the Traveler and Paimon was a far better option than tossing them out. Besides, their magical inventory would keep everything fresh indefinitely.

With that decided, you grabbed a large container and began filling it with an assortment of treats. A half Greek Yogurt Tangerine Cake, eclairs, chou à la crème, flan, lemon tarts, and egg tarts—each one carefully placed inside. The container was soon overflowing with a colorful variety of pastries, each one a testament to your hard work and creativity. You left a little bit to yourself to eat at home later as a good job treat.

You stepped back, admiring your handiwork. This was more than just food; it was a token of your friendship, a way to say thank you in the sweetest way possible.

Stepping back into the dining area, you found the duo slumped in their seats, looking thoroughly satisfied—and perhaps a little too full. Their slightly bloated appearances were hard to miss, and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Oh deary me, you two look like you’ve been through a feast fit for a king!” you teased, walking over to clear the plates. As you picked them up, you noticed, not for the first time, that not a single crumb remained. It was impressive, though not as shocking as the first time you’d witnessed their bottomless appetites. Back then, you’d been utterly floored. Now, it was just another reminder of how much they adored your cooking.

The Traveler’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but they quickly recovered, flashing you a sheepish grin. “Well, what can we say? Your cooking is to die for, (Reader).” Their tone was smooth, almost suave, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at their attempt to save face.

“Thank you, Traveler,” you replied warmly, stacking the plates neatly. “Coming from you, that means a lot.”

Just then, the Traveler reached into their pocket and pulled out a small pouch, placing it on the table with a soft clink. “Oh, right! Here’s our payment. As always, it’s worth every mora.”

You picked up the pouch, feeling the satisfying weight of the mora inside. “Thank you, dear customer,” you said with a playful bow, tucking the pouch into your apron pocket. “Your patronage is always appreciated.”

“Oh, right! Stay there for a moment—don’t come into the kitchen,” you said, holding up a hand to stop them as you hurried back to the kitchen with the stack of plates. Paimon and the Traveler exchanged curious glances, their usual routine of following you to the front bar momentarily interrupted. Reluctantly, they took their usual seats, waiting patiently but with growing curiosity.

From the kitchen, they heard a faint grunt, followed by the sound of something heavy being shifted. Paimon’s ears perked up, and the Traveler leaned forward, concern flickering across their face. “(Reader), are you okay? Do you need help?” they called out, halfway out of their seats.

“No need, no need!” you replied, your voice slightly strained but cheerful. “This thing’s just a bit heavier than I expected, but I’ve got it under control!” Moments later, you emerged from the kitchen, carefully balancing two large, cloth-covered containers in your arms. You set them down gently on the counter in front of them, your face flushed but triumphant. “Wait, there’s still more. Don’t touch them yet!” you warned, holding up a finger before darting back into the kitchen.

When you returned, you were carrying yet another cloth-covered container—this one filled with the assortment of pastries you’d prepared earlier. Paimon’s eyes widened, and the Traveler tilted their head, their curiosity now fully piqued.

“(Reader), what are these? They smell amazing—and they look huge!” the Traveler asked, their voice tinged with awe.

With a dramatic flourish and a smug grin, you pulled the cloths away, revealing the contents. “Ta-da! This is my surprise gift for you! Are you shocked?” you announced, clearly pleased with yourself.

Paimon gasped, floating closer to inspect the containers. “Wait, these three ginormous things are for us? Paimon loves them already! But, uh… what exactly are they?” She scratched her head, her tiny face scrunched up in confusion.

You chuckled, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Well, since we can’t meet on weekends, I thought I’d send you off with enough food to last you a while. Consider it a thank-you for always keeping me company. There’s a bit of everything in there—main dishes, snacks, and, of course, plenty of pastries for someone with a particular sweet tooth.” You shot Paimon a knowing look, and she beamed, already reaching for one of the containers.

The Traveler’s eyes softened, a grateful smile spreading across their face. “(Reader), you really didn’t have to go through all this trouble… but thank you. This means a lot to us.”

“Nuh-uh!” you said sharply, your eyes narrowing as you caught the Traveler’s hand reaching for the pouch of mora at their waist. “It’s on the house! The payment you’ve already given is more than enough to cover all of this,” you insisted, waving your hands emphatically.

And it was the truth. Thanks to the connections you’d built with your high-profile regulars, you’d found a discreet way to convert mora into gold bars, bypassing the government’s watchful eyes (fanfiction logic, of course). Those gold bars had opened doors to even more lucrative opportunities, leaving you with more than enough wealth to afford this generous gesture.

“But—” the Traveler started, their brow furrowed in protest.

“No buts!” you interrupted, placing a hand over their mouth to silence them. “That’s final,” you said firmly, though your eyes sparkled with warmth. “Besides, this is my way of saying thank you—for your companionship, for listening to me rant about rude customers, and for always brightening my day. You two mean a lot to me, and this is the least I can do.”

Paimon, who had been floating nearby with a pastry already in hand, grinned from ear to ear. “See, Traveler? (Reader) says it’s fine, so stop being so stubborn! Paimon’s not complaining about free food!”

The Traveler sighed, their resistance melting away as they shook their head with a soft chuckle. “Alright, alright. We’ll accept your gift—but only because you’re being so insistent.”

You laughed, stepping back and crossing your arms with a satisfied smile. “Good! Now, make sure to enjoy every bite. And don’t even think about trying to sneak mora into my apron later—I’ll know!”

The Traveler simply smiled at you, a look of helpless gratitude in their eyes, and nodded in understanding. They knew better than to argue with you when you were this determined.

The café was soon filled with the sound of laughter and lively conversation as the three of you shared one last chat before it was time for them to leave. The warmth of the moment made the impending goodbye a little easier to bear.

Finally, Paimon floated toward the door, her tiny hands waving excitedly. “Goodbye, (Reader)! We’ll see you again in two days! Make sure to take care of yourself, okay?” she chirped, her voice brimming with genuine affection.

Beside her, the Traveler stood, balancing the three large cloth-covered containers with ease. They gave you a nod, their expression soft but resolute. “We’ll be back soon. Don’t overwork yourself,” they added, their tone gentle but firm.

You smiled, feeling a bittersweet tug in your chest. “Same to you two. Safe travels, and don’t let Paimon eat everything in one sitting!” you teased, earning a playful pout from the floating fairy.

Paimon reached for the door and swung it open, revealing the sprawling landscape of Guili Plains. In the distance, the towering silhouette of Wangshu Inn stood against the horizon, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.

You waved as they stepped through the doorway, their figures framed by the breathtaking view of their world. “See you soon!” you called out, your voice carrying a mix of fondness and anticipation.

The door closed softly behind them, leaving the café quiet once more. You stood there for a moment, the warmth of their presence lingering in the air, before turning back to the kitchen with a smile. Two days would pass quickly, and you already couldn’t wait to see them again.

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@kameyo-kumo @esthelily @haru-tofuu @udretlnea @shining-nebula2000 @ifeellikejumpingoffacliff @resident-cryptid @allblognamesaretakenlikereally @leilakaro @stvrbrighttt @chericia @evaline-ethan @ra404 @mmmhyperfixation @original-person @chaoticfivesworld @lexal-amber-rose @floofeh-purpi @time-shardz @animeobsessed56 @fantasyhopperhea @yuan1819

I'm sorry to those in the taglists whose names didn't tag them. Tumblr doesn't want them. I even double checked your accounts.

#genshin impact #genshin impact traveler #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin impact reverse sagau #genshin reverse sagau #genshin reverse isekai #cafe owner! reader au #gender neautral reader #gn!reader #sagau x reader #genshin x reader #•works[🍡]•#genshin series

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