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joelsgoldrush · 1 month

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“GUILTY PLEASURE” | 8.6k

logan howlett x fem!reader

“I want this like a cigarette / Can we drag it out and never quit?” Guilty Pleasure by Chappell Roan

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut - mdni 18+ fluff, angst, drinking, dirty talk, slow-burnish, grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader, reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes, age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, soft dom!logan, wade being the funniest asshole, logan calls reader "kiddo/kid"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you.

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.”

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend.

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison

Allison:

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss.

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.”

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features.

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules.

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up.

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail.

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients.

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment.

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you.

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him.

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his.

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic.

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on.

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?”

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days.

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble.

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

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reiderwriter · 3 months

Text

💫 Starry-Eyed 💫

Pairing: Porn Star! Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Summary: For work experience, you take a job working the cameras on a porn shoot, but after becoming suddenly attracted to a new coworker, you shortly find yourself as a fluffer, the person whose job it is to keep the "talent" aroused between takes.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Porn AU, College AU kinda, exhibitionism, oral sex (f receiving), consensual voyeurism, masturbation (male), blow job, deep throating, messy orgasm.

A/N: Well, look at where we are. I think this actually counts as my first Alternate Universe fic, which is crazy all things considered. I'm really enjoying the Kink Bingo Challenge as it's leading me to so many new ideas for fics!! I hope you all enjoy this one 🥰

Masterlist || Bingo Board

Being a college student still at age 25 meant many things, but mostly, it meant you had friends at many different stages of their lives. Some were fresh out of high school halls, enjoying their first taste of freedom, some were enjoying their first drops of alcohol. Some were giving up alcohol for good and starting families.

Some of them were successful porn stars who'd funded their own start-up porn production company. It certainly was one way to use a film degree. You knew a professor or two who would enjoy her work more than half your syllabus as well.

Candi Rapper had become famous doing cam shows in her first year of college and had gone all-in after graduation. You'd shared a few classes in the early days, before you took a break from college for financial reasons, of course. By the time you'd gone back, she was a big time and now in the position to offer you a job.

“One of my crews is down a cameraman this weekend. If you're open to it, I pay a fair wage?” she'd offed at your weekly brunch.

“Will you be the star?” You joked back with her.

“You wish.”

You took the job, of course, along with a ride from Candi (her name was Kate, but you'd let her pretend) and pulled up on site bright and alert at 7am.

The set was a large mansion - typical, Candi said - and you'd be mostly shooting in the living room - typical, Candi said. You'd had to tell her after her second typical that you were, in fact, an adult and had seen at least one porno before until she cut out pornsplaining everything to you. She introduced you to the key staff and the director, and they got you set up at your camera.

“The shoot today is going to be around 5 hours. You'll be on camera three. The papers in front have your cues and directions. You can have some free time until we start. There's a breakfast spread in the kitchen, help yourself.”

Not one to turn down free food, you bee-lined there and stood awkwardly in line for the coffee with the dozen or so other crew members, eyeing up the take-out pancakes organised across the granite surface.

“Your first time?” An older man asked from behind you, smiling in a friendly manner.

“You can tell?”

“You're thinking about eating the pancakes, and the rest of us are remembering the scene filmed there last weekend," as if on queue, a shiver ran down his spine. "Yeah, we can tell.” You laughed along with the man's joke and finally grabbed your coffee.

Luck just wasn't on your side, though, as you turned and immediately ran into someone immediately sloshing the coffee onto your shirt.

“Oh my god, I am so - I'm so sorry, I need to watch where I'm going.”

You'd run into 6’3” of lanky, awkward male perfection. He looked young, your age or younger most likely, and was fidgeting as he stood, the most obviously uncomfortable person in the building.

Your first thought was “Is he lost?” closely followed by “Can I beg him to get lost in a linen closet somewhere with me?”

He grabbed a handful of tissues from the counter nearby and began attempting to wipe away the coffee you'd spilt down yourself, completely unaware that he was fondling your breasts in his haste to do so.

“Slow down there, tiger, shoot doesn't start for another half hour,” you said, winking at him as you took the tissues from his panicked hands and dried yourself as best you could.

“I know, I memorised the call sheet. Who are you?” His question was blunt, but you weren't taken aback at all, your smile even deepening as you enjoyed his subtle attention.

“I'm Y/N. It's my first time.”

He spluttered, coming up with an answer to that, and you immediately cursed yourself for the slip.

“My first time on set, not my- I'm 25. Not that age determines experience per say but-”

“I'm 22. And my name is Spencer,” he said, grasping your hand and shaking it.

“So, it's your first time on set?” He asked, relaxing more into the conversation as he stepped closer to you, letting the other staff members come and go from the kitchen.

“Yeah. My friend offered me the job, you know Candi?”

He nodded but didn't speak, so you continued.

“She thought the experience would be good for me. And the cash. Gotta put myself through college somehow, and it was this or stripping.”

He laughed, and you felt a flash of warmth in your stomach, a familiar hunger spreading across your lower body. Maybe it was just the atmosphere of the set, but the air was charged with arousal.

“Well, you're certainly attractive enough to do both jobs. I'm sure the camera is going to love you,” he said, sounding so genuine and enthusiastic that you almost felt bad you had to correct him.

“Oh! Oh, no, Spencer, I'm not - I'm, uh, I'm going to be behind the camera. Behind camera number two.”

His face instantly flushed, and you thought you saw a pang of disappointment there for a second, too. The thought of him being disappointed made your skin heat, that he'd been looking forward somehow to watching you get fucked? Your cunt throbbed and suddenly, you found you did wish to display yourself, to let everyone see if it meant that he got to.

“I am so sorry. I didn't - I thought… No, I didn't think, I… I'll shut up now, please excuse me-”

“No, Spencer, wait-”

You tried to call after him, but he sent you an embarrassed smile and walked off in haste, leaving you behind as the director called people to their places.

You were still flushed with arousal as you moved to your station, getting your camera ready for filming. You were distracted even as the scene started, and the female actress came on set, already stripped down to her underwear and touching herself, teasing the camera.

Surprisingly, you found the work easy enough, too busy focusing on the settings and the gaze of the camera to even care about what was going on down the lens. She was moaning and writhing and gasping sure, to the benefit of the cameras, and although strangely intimate, nobody in the room seemed bothered, so neither did you.

Or neither did you until the actual scenario started, and your actress got ‘caught’ doing the dirty by the needy boy next door. You hadn't looked at the call sheet closely enough as Spencer peeped through the door to the bedroom, entering the scene not by accident but as a scripted part of the show.

Your eyes bulged out of your head as you immediately looked down to your prompt sheet to find his name there.

LEAD ACTOR: SPENCER REID

His stage name was scribbled next to that, but you paid it no attention as you steadied your camera again and got to filming seriously again.

The actress had pulled his glasses off and led him to the bed, letting him keep on his sweater vest and tie as she pulled his head between her legs, and he started doing his job.

Even from your view to the side of him, you could tell this wasn't his first time doing that. His tongue spread across the expanse of her heat, first, letting her grind into his face, getting comfortable before he snaked a hand up to her stomach and held her in place for as long as he so desired.

Then, he rolled her clit into his mouth and sucked. The fake moans and whimpers suddenly became real as you saw the sheer skill of his tongue ripple through the woman's body.

You couldn't even be jealous at this point, despite how much you sorely wished that were you on the bed. Surely no girl had resorted to porn out of pure horny desire before, right?

After a while of letting her gasp and moan under his tongue, Spencer's fingers curled inside the other woman as well. The director called cut, and he kept his fingers there, even as they walked him through the next few shots, and instructed him to unzip his pants in the next few clips.

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself as the cameras started rolling again, and he did finally free himself from his tight khakis.

You knew you'd probably sign up for whatever was on offer at this company next to see that gift again. Spencer wasn't an impressive size or girth, nothing so alien or out of the ordinary that it only belonged in porn. It was just that his cock looked so… pretty.

He was an inch or two longer than any man you'd ever been with, you were sure, but his cock seemed to have an air of dignity about it.

You had to stop yourself at that thought. Dignity? Really? You were working part-time on a porn set, and there was suddenly dignity involved?

You rolled your shoulders back and tried to find your earlier unbothered attitude. But with his cock in his hands and his face slick with female arousal, you really couldn't bring yourself to think about anything less than his fingers roughly finger-fucking you.

You tried to close your eyes to it, to be blind, but the wet, sticky sounds only distracted you and you found yourself soon swaying, swaying, swaying until you had to catch yourself before the camera dropped.

With a shout of “yes, baby, yes,” the female star came on his face, sending up a furret of fluids as he just kept diligently stroking his cock, only stopping at the director's final yell of “CUT.”

“Perfect guys, let's get her up and drinking water again. You need to stay hydrated after all that,” he joked, a PA walking over to pass the actress a robe and a bottle of water as she walked off set.

You relaxed for a second, trying to find your quickest route out of the room so you wouldn't have to drool over the man's cock so obviously any more.

“FLUFFER? Where's the fluffer?” The director yelled, looking around for someone who obviously wasn't there yet.

“Well?”

Still, no one arrived to do whatever job they needed doing, and you felt desperate for escape.

“New girl, would you mind?” Some crew member called out from the sidelines, nodding at you.

“Oh, uh, sure,” you said, hoping that whatever job you agreed to would get you far enough from this room and the heat between your legs as possible. You were not a prude, and you would not bolt from your very first film shoot.

“Great, get on the bed and keep the boy company,” the director said before exiting the room.

You were absolutely on board with becoming a prude and bolting the scene as fast as your legs could carry you. Unfortunately, eight people still sat around, monitoring equipment and chatting on their breaks, and so you were forced to comply with the task.

“We meet again,” you greeted the man stiffly as you found him on the bed, an apprehensive, tight smile on his own face.

“You don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable, I can keep myself… occupied.”

You noticed then that his hand was still wrapped around his cock, giving it slow strokes, not enough to tip him over the edge, but just enough to maintain the erection.

“So the fluffer….?”

“Prepares the actors for the next scene? I need to stay- let say in shape.”

His face flushed crimson as your gaze slipped down to his cock in his hand.

“So you want me to-”

“NO. No, I usually only talk to the Fluffers. Look at them, you know?”

You nodded and found yourself suddenly going still, watching his face contort with pleasure as his eyes raked over your chest and legs.

You couldn't help but let your eyes dart south again, and fuck did you wish you hadn't. His spare hand fisted the sheets as he stroked himself gently, practically taunting himself with the light touch.

“You do this often?” you asked, trying to pretend you were open to having a normal conversation even while your brain begged you to climb into his lap and sink down as fast as you could.

“You mean maaturbate or the porn thing?”

“Porn.”

“No. No, I come in for a shoot every few months. One of these shoots tends to fund another semester of my PhD, so-”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were impressed by that admission, but your predominate thought was still “shit, shit, shit, shit.”

“That's impressive,” you said, only catching your words as they tripped out of your mouth. “THE PHD! The PhD, I mean not your… penis? Not that it isn’t appealing, or- or-.”

You tried your hardest to use the most clinical word you could, distancing yourself from the honeyed words you so wanted to drop in his ear to get him to crawl further up the bed and entice him to make his own scene with you.

“Thank you. It's my third,” he said, slightly more relaxed now that you were the flustered one.

“PhD that is. Not cock. I only have one of these.”

“One is enough,” you say, unable to stop the words tumbling out as your eyes again find themselves following each pump of his hand up and down his cock. Inwardly, you curse your friend for starting up her stupid business and paying you to simply exist in the same hemisphere as this man without being able to ride him.

“Do you want to touch it?” He asked, blurting the words out suddenly. As if God had answered your prayers, your heart leapt up into your throat, your pussy clenching around nothing as you shifted your hips closer to him.

You'd thought then that you'd quite enjoy bouncing on that thing yourself, but a handshake would have to do.

“So you have to stay hard, but-”

“But it's best I don't cum, yeah.”

“Okay. Noted.”

Slowly, you reached out a hand and gently wrapped each finger around the tip of his cock. He released himself and wrapped his now free hand around yours, setting the pace for you quickly as he engaged you in conversation again.

“So, where are you from?” He asked, as inept at small talk as you felt in that second.

You answered him without a fuss and returned the question. Las Vegas. That seemed to check out with how easily he'd broken into porn. There was always something happening in that city.

"How'd you get into the business?"

"Well, Vegas, you know. A producer saw a group of... street ladies offer me a freebie and gave me his card."

You went back and forth on questions like that for a few minutes before you noticed he was coughing every few seconds to mask moans and groans, evidently too into this to request you stop.

“Is it okay to…Can I touch you?” He asked, sounding very afraid of rejection at that second.

“Oh, um, yes. That'd only be fair, right?”

He ran a hand up your waist to the curve of your breast and pressed his fingers into one, digging into the skin as though it were a pillow, and he was testing it before he fell head first into it.

Maybe that was just wishful thinking, though.

Temporarily, you let go of him, popping the front buttons of your blouse until he could freely see all of your black and red bra, and feast on the tops of your dusty nipples, peaking out just above each cup.

You heard him inhale sharply, even as he tried to hide it, but you didn't care, too transfixed on the precum decorating his tip.

“Would you mind-” You started, but cut yourself off quickly, biting your lower lip.

“Mind?”

“Can I suck it?”

You didn't know where it came from because there were probably half a dozen other people still in the room, and mostly men. But dear god, he looked delicious, and you wanted just a little sample.

“Fuck yes,” he said, finally giving in and letting out a whole gust of breath as he slumped down a bit further, no longer holding himself rigid. “No, no, actually, please do. I'm begging, I'll beg-”

You cut him off by pushing yourself to your knees and crawling in between his, and seconds later, you were licking the length of his cock from the base of his balls all the way to that precious drop of precum.

Hard, but no cumming. You could do that. You'd never done it before, preferring to fully pleasure sexual partners any chance you got, but there was no time like the present to start learning.

Slowly, you wrapped your lips around his tip and sank down, taking one inch, then another, and then another. When you reached the base of his cock, you pushed that little bit further down, calming yourself and going slowly so you didn't gag, nose pushing into his neat public hair before pulling away just as slowly and doing it again.

You took him as deep down your throat as you could manage, and suddenly, it was like everything that kept your conversation casual and civil earlier had flown out the door. He threw his head back, fisted his hand in your hair, and moaned deep.

The sound shook you so much you almost pushed a hand into your own underwear and started fucking yourself, needing to prepare yourself for him like a good girl.

Around you, you could hear signs of the shoot starting back up again, people finding their places, still all but ignoring you deep-throating a porn star.

Spencer's breaths grew more rapid as you sucked him, hips becoming restless as he tried to lift up into your mouth, hand in your hair tightening as you realised your mistake.

You pulled off his cock and grasped it again, stroking it slowly, but it was too late. With a sharp moan and a twitch of his hips, Spencer so prettily decorated your chin and chest. His cum dripped down your face, hitting your cleavage and pushing further down to stain your nice black laced underwear white.

“Fuck! Sorry, I wasn't meant to do that, let me get some - Can I get a towel please? A baby wipe? Some tissue, anything?” His voice was panicked, but his hand on your head relaxed, and he brushed your hair gently behind your ear, as if comforting you.

He was panicked, for sure, but the crew calmly handed him everything he needed, as if they'd been in anticipation of just this thing happening. You supposed they probably were, this being a porn set. You were sure you were supposed to clean yourself up, but instead, he grabbed a wet tissue, leaving the pack just out of your reach.

He managed to clean your face off a bit before the director returned to the room with a laugh. Running a hand through his hair and messing it up slightly, the director turned back to you.

“We're five minutes out from shoot time,” he said, shaking his head. You started to apologise, but he stopped you with a hand.

“New girl, work whatever magic you just did and get him hard again. Five minutes.”

“W-What?” You spluttered, trying your best to rise from your knees, but ultimately failing. You were either stiff from the position or just weak with arousal.

“He just came, I don't think I can-”

“10 pictures I've done with that kid, and I haven't seen him cum that quickly ever before in my life. And certainly not just for some kitten licks. Do it.”

You turned back to Spencer, his cum still trickling down your chest, creating an almost uncomfortable stiffness as it dried up.

“Pleasure working with you?” You said, not-so-secretly ecstatic that you got to sample him once more.

“I'll be in your care,” he replied, as you begin softly kissing the head of his cock again, tipping his head back again and losing himself in the pleasure or your tongue.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #reiderslibrary #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #cmkinkbingo2024

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suosgirl · 3 months

Text

Keeping It Cute (& Dangerous) - Hayato Suo x Reader | Ch. 3

Word Count: 4100

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nirei, Taiga Tsugeura, Mitsuki Kiryu

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers (?), ooc (?), loss of loved one, violence, panic attack, breakdown, slowburn, knives, stabbing, blood/bleeding, broken bones, harassment, survivor's guilt, misunderstandings, fighting, grief, swearing, ptsd – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: I wasn't feeling the original image because I really want this fic to feel real – so, updated it so it looks like a manga panel (˶˃⤙˂˶) Also, remember when I said this would be 4 parts? I lied, haha. Definitely will be longer (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

୨ৎ Keeping it Cute (& Dangerous) Masterlist

“Bunny,” he repeats himself – simple and matter-of-factly. “That’s not my name.” “But you’re just so cute –” Your nose scrunches up at his words, and he laughs as he claps his hands. “Oh! See, you are a bunny!”

This was a situation that you did NOT have on your bingo card.

Sat in between Kiryu, whose name you had just learned, and Tsugeura, whose name you had also just learned, you found yourself cursing the universe for the streak of bad luck that just kept coming.

(They had originally all sat across from you, something you were thankful for – but when you had excused yourself to use the restroom, they thought nothing of it until they saw you fly past the shop windows.

Sakura and Nirei had to drag you back.

You blame your weakness for puppy dog eyes.

… Fun Fact: Nirei was really good at doing puppy dog eyes.)

You just couldn’t understand it – you had apologized for what you did, and they had told you that you did nothing wrong, so why were you still here?

And also – nothing erases the fact that they’re all still so good-looking. Especially Suo.

Ugh, even his name was pretty. So pretty, in fact, that you couldn’t stop repeating it in your head.

You could still feel the ghost of his hand on your shoulder and the warmth of his breath on your ear.

Bunny…

Is that what he thought of you? A harmless, dainty little ball of fur? You’re irritated at the mere idea of being compared to such a powerless animal.

For goodness sake, you had fractured a man’s hand – bunnies don’t do that.

What’s worse – he had continued to call you that stupid nickname the whole walk here. You had ignored him, of course, but it seems that only fueled him more, because he hasn’t let up on the name since then.

How can someone so handsome be so aggravating?

You’re brought out of your thoughts by the sound of a poorly veiled excuse of a cough, and you see that they’re all looking at you expectantly.

“Oh – I’m sorry! Did you say something?”

Sakura lets out a sharp tsk, no doubt still annoyed about earlier, before responding to you.

“We were askin’ for your name.”

Oh.

You don’t mean to, really, but you let out a laugh. It bubbles out of you, unrefined and uncontained, because the situation in its entirety is just so ridiculous. Of course you hadn’t introduced yourself to them because you didn’t think you’d still be talking to them. Or rather, that they’d still be talking to you.

Once your laughter dies down and you’re wiping the stray tears from your eyes, you quickly apologize and introduce yourself.

It’s silent for a second, and then Suo hums and you eye him warily.

“I think I like bunny better,” he concludes, smiling at you.

You shake your head, before correcting him with a forced smile of your own.

“Bunny,” he repeats himself – simple and matter-of-factly.

“That’s not my name.”

“But you’re just so cute –”

Your nose scrunches up at his words, and he laughs as he claps his hands.

“Oh! See, you are a bunny!”

Suddenly, you don’t like him anymore.

You turn to Kiryu, even though you barely know him, because you need support and validation and he looks like the type to run to your aid in times of need. He’s already looking down at you, his eyes thoughtful and sensible and you’re sure that he’ll be the one to put an end to this endless teasing. He’s so reliable, you think. And handsome. And Kind. But now he’s smirking at you and you’re not sure why –

“Kitten! You look like a kitten right now~”

You almost flip the table. Keyword: almost. You are, after all, just a girl – but girls don’t flip tables. No matter how irritated they are. And you know what? You pride yourself on how poised and collected you are in the face of hardship. You are resolute – unbreakable. This is child’s play.

“I don’t think you’re anything like that –” Tsugeura chimes in, and you’re so glad that someone finally sees you for who you are.

Perhaps… perhaps Tsugeura was way more emotionally aware and attuned to others' feelings than you had first thought. You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, and suddenly, Tsegeura is just so dreamy and handsome and –

“– you’re more like a banana! Banana is my favorite protein flavor, the other fla-”

You slide your hands under the table.

First, you were going to flip this shit. Then, you were going to rock their shit.

“I-I think you’re really cool … and strong!” Nirei interrupts your silent rampage, and you feel the anger dissipate from your body.

You decide then that Nirei is your favorite one from the group, and you grant him a smile – because kindness is supposed to be met with even more kindness. And he was kind, and cute, and sweet, and –

“But … I feel like I’ve heard your name before… I just can’t remember where…,” he mutters, and you watch him pull out a small notebook from his jacket.

You feel your skin prickle at his words, and you quickly ask Kiryu what he’s looking at.

“Ah – he collects information about people –”

Kiryu’s still talking, but you tune him out.

If people from this town knew who your brother was, then you weren’t safe here either.

You watch Nirei flip through his notebook in earnest, and your hands start to get clammy. You had to leave. Whether he found the information he was looking for or not, you didn’t want to stay to find out. You decide that you had entertained them long enough, and it’s when you start to slowly push your chair back that Nirei finds what he’s looking for.

“Aha! I knew your name sounded familiar!” he’s beaming at you as he says your brother's name, and you don’t have it in your heart to ask him to stop.

But then – he’s naming things about your brother like his height and his preferences and his shoe size and you can’t stop the way your eyes are starting to water or the way your hands softly inch towards to stop him.

And everyone’s so enraptured in Nirei’s storytelling, so intrigued by the rumors of your brother and the rumors of you, that no one notices.

It’s only when you gently pull the notebook from his hands that he stops. You’re not mad. Really.

You’re just –

…

You don’t know how you feel.

Through blurry eyes, you skim over the page and you’re surprised at how accurate everything is – but, you find one flaw.

One stupid flaw that you wish wasn’t real, but it was, and reality hurts.

“You need to add that he passed away a year ago,” you say before clumsily handing the notebook back to him – your eyes glued to your lap.

The table falls silent, and you don’t want to look up. You don’t want to look any of them in their eyes or see their expressions of remorse or guilt because, honestly, they didn’t know.

But… But to hang your head low in your brother’s memory was shameful. He deserved to be remembered with your head held high – a smile on your face and pride in your voice. That’s the type of person he was.

“My brother –” you take a deep breath, willing your voice to stop shaking and your hands to stop fidgeting. Kiryu’s hand is on your back, comforting and sweet, and you know that he’s silently telling you not to push yourself – but you press on.

If your brother were here right now, he’d tease you endlessly about how small and frail you look.

But then… he’d flick your forehead and tell you to straighten your spine – because addressing your feelings and your fears head-on is the only way to get stronger.

“He was the one that taught me that I could wear whatever I want, do whatever I want, and be whoever I want – because I’m strong enough to back it up. He made sure of that.”

“He was really famous in our town… Maybe that’s why you’ve heard of him? He protected everyone, just like you guys, and he had this thing he would do where he would call himself –”

“The LION…,” Nirei joins in quietly with you, and you let out a small laugh as you nod.

“Yeah, my brother was the lion and I was the tiger. He was really into stuff like that – said it made us sound cool and intimidating and whatnot. He even had everyone call us that too and I used to hate it because it was so cheesy, but somewhere down the road, it grew on me.”

You’re smiling now, but it isn’t reaching your eyes. You’re trying, though, and they can see that.

“When I fight …,” you pause, and flashbacks start running through your mind.

You remember all the fighting, all the banter, and all the lessons. He was such a flashy person, always trying to take on 15 people at a time just to show how strong he was. But … he was strong. Stupidly strong, and so so smart. He had the mind of a tactician – always planning, always thinking. His strategies rarely failed, and if they did, he took it in stride with a smile on his face and a chip on his shoulder.

“... I feel like he’s right there beside me, giving me pointers on what I could do better and telling me not to mess up my hair too much.”

You missed him – terribly. But, life goes on.

The days pass by, the seasons change, and in some miraculous way – you begin healing.

“I think about him everyday,” you admit, “he was my best friend, my role model, and I knew him like the back of my hand. You’re doing his life’s work, too – and that’s something to be incredibly proud of.”

You look up at them, and though your tears have subsided, there’s still an ache in your chest that you know will only get lighter with time.

“How?”

You flinch at the question, and everyone is quick to scold Sakura but he continues –

“He sounded pretty damn strong, so what happened?”

The question makes sense. Your brother was strong, so how did he, of all people, get killed?

You know that you, yourself, are also an enigma – so you get where he’s coming from. You had moved to Makochi with trauma and issues and history, and it still wasn’t clear if you were a threat or not. It just hurts, you suppose, being perceived like this.

You purse your lips, not because you’re angry at Sakura, but because you’re angry at what you’re about to say.

This part always stung the most.

“My brother… he was well known, even outside of our town, for ending fights and saving people. He was a hero – the town’s hero. But because of his reputation, we had more and more people moving in, and a lot of them had emotional baggage. They –”

Your hands start shaking again, and you have to force yourself to calm down.

“They didn’t know this, and it isn’t their fault, but because of so many people seeking refuge with us, gangs from out of town were putting a target on me and my brother.”

Your breathing is coming out ragged now, and you can feel your body start to heat up with pure anger.

Kiryu’s hand is on your back again, and you’re so grateful for the way it grounds you enough to continue speaking.

“The night that my brother died, he was by himself. We didn’t know that the gangs had reached out to one another to create some sort of compromise, but if we had, then maybe things would be different.”

“I don’t … I don’t know exactly what happened, but when they found him, he was on the outskirts of town with 50 bodies laid out around him and 20 stab wounds… He could’ve been saved, but he lost too much blood because he just kept fighting.”

“I was supposed to be with him that night, but I had a stupid little cold and he told me to stay home and rest. Can you believe that? I was at home, with soup and cough medicine and a runny nose, while my brother was out there dying, and I –”

You don’t realize you’re gasping for air until they’re all telling you to stop, and you finally notice the hot tears running down your face.

Your body stills, and then – you’re quiet.

It takes everything in you to just breathe.

You’re stuck like that for what feels like forever before you’re able to start releasing the tension in your body, but your heart is still racing and your mind is still reeling and –

Sakura breaks the silence.

“... They’re cowards – you don’t bring knives to a fistfight,” he states, plain and simple, and the rest of them are waiting with bated breath and worried eyes as you look up at him and –

You laugh. It’s a bitter laugh, but it’s something, and you see their shoulders drop with relief.

Slowly, your heart returns to a steady rhythm and you’re sure that you’re probably looking a lot better because Kiryu is softly asking where you’re from.

You hesitate, but the name of your hometown falls from your lips – and so do their faces.

“That’s –,” Nirei starts, but Sakura cuts him off.

“Whaddya doin’ all the way over here, then?”

You pause.

“I’m protecting my town – same as you.”

“That … doesn’t seem like much protection – ”

“They're still looking for me – the hit that night was for both of us. They only want me. The town is safe because I’m not there.”

You’re met with silence, and you take that as a queue to wrap this whole thing up. You’ve said far too much than you’d like to admit, and you don’t want to get attached to these feelings and these people and this town.

This was fun. Handsome boys always make good company. But, the sooner you get this over with, the sooner you can move on.

So, you bring your hands together with a soft clap, grabbing their attention as you smile at them.

You drone on about how, despite this being a great fun experience, it’s getting late and you really oughta head back to your apartment now. You’re thanking them for listening to you and for being so nice and caring, but you’ve already taken up so much of their time and you couldn’t possibly keep them out for longer.

You honestly, genuinely think you’re doing pretty good.

What you don’t count on, though, is that they’re getting familiar with your smiles. They’re starting to catch on to which ones are real and which ones aren’t – and the smile you’re giving them now is so guarded and forced and fake that they’re already standing up before you finish your little spiel.

You deflate at their reaction. You weren’t even done.

Sighing, you go to grab your bag before standing up – and they’re quick to gather around until they’re blocking you with their bodies.

“You’re not thinking about leaving town, are you?”

“Of course not! Goodness, why would you even think that?”

You laugh, light and friendly, before trying to step around them. They block you again.

“Look, I’m tired and I want to go home. Please please please let me go home,” you plead, desperate to finally be alone.

“If we visit you tomorrow, you’ll still be there? You won’t be gone?”

You smile again, but your eyes are starting to twitch and your patience is running thin.

“Yes yes yes – I promise I’ll still be there tomorrow.”

What a fucking liar, they think.

You, on the other hand, are getting frustrated because usually nosy people end it at the first question. You’re not at all used to whatever this is, and you’re starting to get worried that perhaps they got too attached to you.

“We’ll walk you home –”

“No need! It’s really not that far!”

Your facade is cracking now, and you’re starting to get antsy. This was too much attention, too much care, and you hadn’t experienced this much clinginess in so long.

Why couldn’t they be more like other towns, who didn’t so much as bat an eyelash when you left because you had caused fights and problems and violence?

“How will we know where to go tomorrow then?”

“Oh – good question! Here, pull out your phones and I’ll give you my contact information.”

They immediately do as you say, but when they look up, you’re fucking gone – halfway out the door by the time they realize it.

You’re booking it, running as fast as you can through alleyways and sharp corners before they even get a clue of where you are.

You’re smiling, pleased with yourself because you won and boys are just so easy.

Finally, you can unwind from the disastrous day you’ve just had and wallow in self-pity and embarrassment to your heart's con–

You run into something hard and firm and tall and handsome and – shit.

Suo’s got his arms wrapped around your waist, strong and secure, and though he’s smiling, you can see how furious he is by the way he’s pressing his lips together.

“It seems my sweet little bunny just keeps getting away.”

You bristle at his words, and for a split second, you consider flipping him out of your way, but his fingers lightly press into your body as a warning and –

“Okay fine, you’ve caught me. Are you happy now?”

You hate how breathless you sound in his arms, but he, on the other hand, is absolutely thrilled. Whether it’s because of your pathetic surrender or because you’re so damn close, you’re not sure.

You place your hands on his chest because, if you’re going to let yourself be held captive by him you might as well enjoy it, and you feel the tiniest flex of his body under your fingertips.

Oh.

Alright – fine. Two can play at this game.

You tilt your head to look up at him, and in the prettiest voice you can muster, you say — “You’re being so mean, Suo.”

All he does is hum at your words, and you flush at the lack of response.

Never… never again.

Maybe you should flip him. It wouldn’t hurt, you think, to get one good jab in. Make him really remember you before you’re gone.

“I honestly think you’re being the mean one here.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he continues.

“If you think leaving is the best thing for you to do right now, then I’ll let you go.”

He drops his arms, and you shiver. You’re not sure if it’s from the breeze or the weight of his words, but you instinctively wrap your hands around yourself.

“You can go to the next town, and then the next one, and then the next one, until you’ve run out of land – and I won’t stop you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you look away from his stare. You can’t do this, can’t listen to this, it hurts and your chest is tight and –

“Or, you can stay here a little while longer. You can get to know the town, know the people, and you could find something worth staying and protecting again.”

You're stepping away from him now, your eyes clenched and your hands shaking.

For a year, you’ve had whispers of your brother's voice, sure, and the occasional casual friendships from town to town, but you’ve never ever been spoken to quite like this. You didn’t know words could bruise you like this. You didn’t know the truth could sear into your skin and burn.

You didn’t give anyone the chance to confront you, never stayed long enough to make it worth it, but here he was – stern and honest and real.

You’re scared – no, terrified at the idea that someone like him could see right through you. That he could see through your facade. That he cared enough to say all of this. That he cared enough to try.

You don’t … know what to do. You’re at a crossroads, and although you’d been in this town for a couple of weeks now, this was the first time you were seeing it for what it truly is.

And you’re not sure if you can love another town the way you loved your hometown. You can’t get attached or comfortable — can't stay in one place for too long. You don’t know what could happen to the people here. What if they find you? What happens then? You shouldn’t risk it, a voice rings through your head.

Yeah, yeah you shouldn’t –

Another voice, so quiet and soft that you wouldn’t have even noticed it if you hadn’t been thinking so hard echoes out.

Try. Hope. Trust. Believe. Protect.

You fear that you’re losing your mind, the words so outlandish and foreign that you can’t remember the last time they’ve ever left your mouth.

But then – you remember earlier. The girl you helped. The girl you protected. The protection that Bofurin offered to you. The hope in her eyes. The trust in their eyes. The trust in you.

And suddenly, you’re crying. It’s not a burst, nor is it hot to the touch. It’s a slow, mesmerizing trickle of tears shining with intention and meaning and feelings and you don’t make a move to bottle it up.

Suo sees this, and his lips press together before he continues.

“You’re not alone here… you’re safe.”

He knows.

He knows that it’s important for you to make this decision yourself.

Suo was an observer – he had waited for you to slip up, to show your true self. He couldn’t trust you, not yet. His friends were much more kind, much more optimistic than he was – but he had his doubts.

He watched you with his full attention as you told your story. He saw the way that you caved in on yourself. He witnessed the path of destruction that you were following with a naked eye and a blind heart.

And when you had apologized on your knees for such a small misunderstanding, how could he have stopped himself from helping you up and easing your anxiety?

You had made him concerned. So concerned, in fact, that he saw right through your little trick back at Pothos, and the minute you had bolted, he was already out the door and hot on your trail.

Besides – how could you, someone from out of town, know the streets better than him?

He had chased you twice now.

He doesn’t dwell on this realization too much.

But, if you truly decided it was best for you to leave, he wouldn’t stop you. He was a man of his word, and although deep in his heart he knows you’d be so much happier and safer if you stayed in Makochi, well, he wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if he didn’t respect your wishes.

So he stands there with his hands clasped behind his back, and he waits, and he hopes.

And although you're silent, he can tell you’re reaching some sort of an epiphany because you’re still here. You haven’t run away. You haven’t disappeared.

It isn’t until you’re looking up at him that Suo finally lets out the breath he’d unconsciously been holding in this whole time, but he needs to make sure —

He stares into your eyes for a brief second before visibly relaxing.

Ah. There it is.

Your eyes… They have color again.

It was such a small detail when he first noticed it earlier – back when he had first laid his eye on you.

Your eyes had been blank – they were blank when you were staring at them, blank when you crushed that man’s hand, blank when he had pulled you up from the ground.

But then, when you were holding hands with that girl and reminiscing about your brother, he saw it – brief and fleeting and pretty.

Your eyes, when they’re full of life and hope, are so very pretty.

Your lips are moving, but Suo hasn’t got a clue what you’ve said, and it’s his turn to get flustered now because getting distracted like this is so very unlike him.

“Hm? Sorry bunny – I didn’t quite catch that.”

You pout, his eyes dropping to the way your bottom lip juts out – and now you’ve got his attention. He wishes he was a stronger man, truly.

“I said –,” you pause, the nickname causing your face to warm up and the tips of your ears to bloom a lovely shade of pink, “... I said I’ll stay.”

୨ৎ Chapter 4

#melody writes (& never stops)#wind breaker #hayato suo #suo hayato #suo hayato x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#hayato suo x reader #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader

240 notes · View notes

juyeonszn · 9 months

Text

(NO) STRINGS ATTACHED

PAIRING lee hyunjae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.58k

GENRES smut ﹒angst ﹒fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, strangers to fwb to lovers, a few timeskips here and there, hyunjae is a manwhore but what else is new, he’s also a criminal justice major so, mentions of alcohol, mentions of roblox? idk, reader is lowkey horny as hell 😭, handjob, oral (m!receiving), mentions of sex in various places, hyunjae is an emotionally constipated idiot, juyeon appearance crowd cheered, also cha eunwoo appearance but crowd did not cheer, hyunjae goes through the five stages of grief, no foreplay but what can u do about it, marking, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap u know the drill), cowgirl position yeehaw, creampie yeehaw, little bit of cockwarming st the end ngl

SUMMARY becoming friends with lee hyunjae after his valiant attempt to save your life (stopping you from drunk driving) was certainly not on your year’s bingo card. also not on your bingo card? waking up in his bed every other night following, but it’s not like you’re really complaining.

MORE bruh. first of all. i’m so sorry this is so late. 😭 second of all, NOT ONLY IS IT A DAY LATE, BUT ITS ALSO LIKE AN HOUR AND A HALF LATE 😭 my time management was not all there this past weekend, and also due to some unfortunate decisions on my part, this fic was delayed a bunch but WE ARE SO BACK pls. i hope u all enjoy this bc i kinda hate it and im sad bc i was so excited for it and its nothing like how i wanted it to be… pls rb if u liked it 😿 also this is lowkey for izzy bc we’re both going through insane hyunjae brainrot rn..

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr

TAGLIST @millksea @from-izzy

In Hyunjae’s defense, he didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

When the two of you first met, he really was just trying to be a gentleman. He’d always been raised as someone who should do the right thing without expecting anything in return. He prided himself on sticking by his mother’s lifelong wisdom.

Okay sure, he might’ve had a few slip ups here and there in the form of random girls he’s hooked up with, but could you blame him? He was a university criminal justice major after all. There’s no harm in a little one-night-stand fun. Learning the ins and outs of the world of law and order was soul-draining enough without the freedom to stress-relieve whenever he felt fit.

Right. Back to you.

Your first encounter took place at the Tau Beta Zeta end of semester party. The fraternity had been working towards securing their victory against the KAT sorority just so they could host the damn thing. Hyunjae had yet to find a girl to entice him for the night, instead bothering some of his frat brothers. For example, Jacob Bae, who had just won the IST University boys’ volleyball team a championship title.

He could’ve gone after Lee Haeun, Jacob’s ex, but he had higher standards than that. There was also the incident earlier that day, while setting up for the party. He tried making a move on the KAT president to piss off Sangyeon, but that ended up failing. Honestly, he didn’t even care much about sleeping with anyone at these things anyways. Usually pretty girls came up to him first, but then ghosted him once they realized he wasn’t looking for anything serious. That was the only reason why his rap sheet was so long. He’d never intended on being the resident fuckboy.

Hyunjae remembers spotting you across the room during one of the numerous rounds of beer pong that night. Rather than Juyeon refereeing with Younghoon like they normally did, he stepped in to let the younger male enjoy the party with his girlfriend. The current match-up was Sunwoo versus Changmin with their respective partners. He had glanced up after witnessing the soccer prodigy miss a cup, making eye contact with you accidentally.

You tucked some hair behind your ear, bringing your drink to your lips and taking a sip before looking away. Your friends had sucked you back into the conversation you were having, effectively blocking Hyunjae’s chance to shoot any shots. He quickly got over it upon witnessing Changmin and Sunwoo arguing over the game, egging them on like the instigator he was.

Most people would’ve thought that was the end of it. Just a fleeting glance at each other, dozens of people standing between you. In hindsight, Hyunjae partially wishes that was where your story ended. You would’ve just been another girl to him, a stranger he saw once and never ran into again.

It’s funny how the universe works in strange ways.

By two in the morning, when over half of the partygoers had left the TBZ house, Hyunjae felt his social battery reach empty. He woke up earlier that morning to study for his Victimology final and felt drained by the time he walked out of the lecture hall. (He knew he aced it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t mentally taxing.) He was just about ready to call it a night when he saw you sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, blubbering into your phone about something.

“What do you mean you left?” You wail, cheeks stained with mascara streaks. “I don’t care about your boyfriend! I’m too drunk to drive home and you were supposed to be my D.D.”

Your words are slightly slurred, a hiccup following your last sentence. Damn, you were cute even when you were crying like a baby. Hyunjae observed as you argued with who he assumed to be your friend over the phone, exasperated by the end of it. Despite not knowing a single thing about you, not even your name, he decided to step in and offer aid.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you saying you’re too drunk to drive yourself, and as a TBZ member I just can’t let that happen,” he extended a hand to you. “I’d be more than willing to let you stay here until the morning, if you’d like. You can have my room and I’ll just crash in one of the others.”

Your lower lip quivered, as if you were on the verge of even more tears. You sniffle when you respond, eyes doe-like and glassy. “R-Really? You would do that f-for me?”

“It’s a better alternative than taking a rideshare home alone while drunk,” he nods. “And I’m definitely not letting you drive anywhere yourself.”

Hyunjae doesn’t know why he felt so protective over you. The thought of some potentially creepy man taking advantage of you because you were under the influence didn’t sit right with him. He poked his cheek with his tongue, hand still outstretched to you. You took it gently, allowing him to guide you to his bedroom. He grabbed some of his clothes so you could be comfier and gave you a washcloth so you wouldn’t go to be with your makeup on. He felt better knowing you were in the safety of his fraternity house rather than anywhere else. It kind of pissed him off that your friends would leave you to fend for yourself like that.

The next morning, you came down the stairs drowning in Hyunjae’s clothes, rubbing at your eyes sleepily. You held the heel of your palm to your temple, wincing from the headache no doubtedly caused by your hangover. It was around 11 AM when you woke up and most, if not all, of his frat brothers had already left to head home for the holidays.

You found your knight in shining armor sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, a mug with the default male Roblox face in his grasp. He was scrolling through his phone mindlessly, taking sips of his coffee every now and then until he heard you. He spins around in his chair, offering you a warm smile.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Did you rest okay?” He asks, getting up to grab you your own mug.

Your cheeks burn up at the nickname. The whole situation is still a bit odd to you. You knew of Lee Hyunjae through the grapevine (every other girl at your school), yes, but you’ve never held an actual conversation with him before. And now here you are, taking shelter in his home and sleeping in his bed. It was sweet of him to be so hospitable, though. He could’ve kicked you out and pretended you didn’t exist.

“That’s probably the best I’ve ever slept in my life,” you laugh to cut through the tension. “Thank you for keeping me alive last night. I feel indebted to you forever.”

“It was no problem, at all. My pleasure, actually,” he grins, passing you a mug filled with fresh coffee. “By the way, I never got your name.”

“It’s Y/N,” you tell him, mouth pulling into a smile at the cup he just gave you, which happened to be the female adjacent to his. “Hyunjae, right?”

He doesn’t know if he should be embarrassed by the fact that you already knew his name or not, but given his previous reputation, he thinks it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. He clears his throat and nods as he drinks more of his coffee. He tries to distract himself from the weird feeling bubbling in his chest with how cute you looked in his clothes.

“Do you not have any plans for the break?” You switch the subject, noticing that the house was empty for the most part.

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “I’m from here, so it isn’t really much of a drive to visit home. I’ll go over on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Years but that’s about it. Other than that, I like to enjoy having the whole house to myself.”

“Woah, me too! My friends are all from out of town though, so I’m usually really lonely. It’s always so odd thinking about how this is just a stepping stone for people’s lives and I’ve been here all of mine.” You stir some cream and sugar into your coffee, pursing your lips. “So, I take it you’re not doing anything today?”

“Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada,” Hyunjae leans back in his chair. “I’ll probably just watch some movies and call it a day. What about you? Any plans for the break since all of your friends are gone?”

“I have just as many as you.” You sip on your beverage.

“Well, the couch space next to me will be unoccupied if you’d like to join me.”

“I think I might take you up on that offer.”

You feel like maybe this was some sort of elaborate scheme to trap you. Your eyes kept flickering from the TV to his profile, entranced by the blue light illuminating his features. You wanted nothing more than to claim your seat on his lap and ride him into the sunset like a gallant steed, which was ironic considering the way the two of you met.

It’s in the middle of the third movie that you finally feel yourself grow restless. No way could you sit beside Lee Hyunjae, spend the whole day with him, and not jump his bones. It was, like, the most obvious thing to do. It was Lee Hyunjae. Did he expect you not to?

He feels you squirming next to him, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. In all honesty, he’s surprised he’s abstained from touching you this long. From the moment he saw you in his clothes this morning, he wanted you underneath him. He doesn’t know how to initiate anything without seeming too forward though.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to make much effort on his part.

You place one of your hands on his thigh, dragging your nail along the seam of his sweatpants. He turns to you with a raised eyebrow. All you can do is bat your eyelashes at him innocently.

“You know, Hyunjae, I never got to properly thank you for your act of nobility last night,” you start, fingers creeping up higher. “And I just thought of something that I think we’ll both like.”

He doesn’t have the strength in him to restrain himself after that, pulling you into a heated kiss. He nips at your lower lip and tangles his tongue with your own, getting easily lost in the spellbinding of your touch. Your lips trail along his jaw and down his neck, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants. You suck deep marks into the skin of his pulse point while simultaneously palming him through his underwear.

You’re moving fast, but you’re on a mission. You’ve been waiting for this all day, you can’t imagine slowing down now. It doesn’t appear that he plans on stopping you either.

Hyunjae throws his head back, hissing when you discard his boxers. The cool air of the house hits his cock at the same time you bite down on the divot where his neck meets his shoulder. Your hand gently wraps around his length, thumb running over the slit to collect the precum that’s formed there. He watches in a trance as you go on your knees between his legs.

You press a sweet kiss to his tip before taking him into your mouth. He groans, twisting your hair around his wrist so he can control your movements. Hyunjae doesn’t think he’s ever wanted head this badly in his life. He’s always been a giving person, always providing the pleasure for the girl he was with. There were only a handful of times that he’s ever been on the receiving end and none of them were memorable. But this time is different.

For some reason, you’re the only one who’s ever been able to get him this riled up this quickly. You’re still relatively a stranger to him, and even though he’s had plenty of one night stands, it’s unlike any of the others.

Your throat relaxes so you can swallow more of him, tongue swirling around the tip. He’s the biggest guy you’ve ever been with, making things a little harder for you, but you were never one to back down from a challenge. And getting Lee Hyunjae to cum from the work of your mouth alone was the ultimate reward.

Hyunjae moans when your attention focuses on his sensitive slit. The sound is music to your ears, goading you into continuing your task. You gag around his dick and tears prick at your eyes when he pushes your face down further, your nose brushing the lower part of his abdomen. One of your hands wanders, tracing and scratching his abs as the other jerks him off.

He swipes away some stray tears with his thumb, bucking into your mouth and hand. “Fucking look at you, taking me like a good girl. You’re so filthy.”

You whine, squeezing your thighs together for your own friction. You can wait, though, entirely too focused on getting him to finish. You’re thankful it isn’t that much longer until he does, painting your lips and cheeks with his release when you pull off of him to press a cute kiss on the same spot. He knows he finished too fast for someone of his caliber, but he doesn’t have it in him to care.

“You’re so hot,” he brings you up to connect your lips once again.

It was very easy to fall into a habit after that.

Throughout the entirety of the break, Hyunjae would call you over or vice versa and you’d rock each other’s world’s. It was practically an entire month of fucking nonstop. You’d done it in the TBZ house living room, in his bed, in the kitchen, in the shower and every other surface you could think of. Your own apartment had been christened plenty with your sexcapades also. Both of your cars had seen you naked too. But the most memorable place had to be his childhood bedroom the night of Christmas. He went to his parents’ for a couple days and hit you with that 3 AM “You up?” text when his libido couldn’t quell. That was probably the quietest you’d ever have to be.

Hyunjae had to explain to his mom that no, he hadn’t gotten mauled by a wild animal in his sleep. It was harder coming up with another plausible lie to cover the source of the hickeys on his neck, but he’d rather tell his mother something stupid than the fact that he was an insatiable freak.

When it came time for everyone to return to school for the spring semester, you’d deluded yourself into thinking there could be something real between you and Hyunjae. I mean, what else were you supposed to do? This gorgeous man had spent almost every single day of winter break with you, even if it was mostly for the sex. That wasn’t all you did though. You shared meals together and talked about your life goals. You truly got to know him better than just the hot frat guy who’s made his rounds with girls on campus.

However, Hyunjae did not think he was ready for that level of commitment.

After spending a month with you and learning all of your little quirks, he thought he was going insane. He’d been in situationships in the past and none of them ever ended well, especially because they always caught feelings. He didn’t want the two of you to fall down the same path. But he noticed the linger of your touches and kisses and the way your eyes sparkled when he spoke. He didn’t want to be the one to break your heart.

He just couldn’t see himself getting into a serious relationship. He was preparing to apply for law schools and get his shit together. He didn’t think he couldn’t handle throwing a girlfriend into the mix. Even if it was you. Bold, pretty little you, who had Lee Hyunjae wrapped around her finger without trying.

Things come to a speeding halt for both of you halfway into the second week back.

Hyunjae was walking out of his Crime Mapping II lecture when he saw you chatting up Cha Eunwoo outside of the building, giggling and being all touchy with him. He doesn’t know why he feels so… stuffy… when he sees that. He doesn’t know why it makes him mad. He doesn’t know why it feels like his heart has just been stomped on a handful of times.

He walks over to you and clears his throat, hands shoving into his jacket pockets. He tries to ignore how cute you look in your puffer coat, nose rosy from the cold. You pause in your conversation to say hi to him before resuming whatever you were saying before. It was like he was invisible.

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you in class tomorrow?” You tuck some hair behind your ear, smiling at the male.

“For sure. Talk to you later, Y/N.” He says, waving as he takes off.

Hyunjae starts in the opposite direction wordlessly, leaving you to stumble behind him like a newborn deer. He looks upset about something, but you’re not sure if you should ask. When you finally match his pace, you frown, tapping his shoulder.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Since when were you friends with Cha Eunwoo?” Hyunjae blurts, tone catching you off guard. You blink at his outburst.

“For a while, I guess? We’re in the same department and we’ve had a few classes together. Why? Is that a problem?” You stop your steps, forcing him to do the same.

“No, why would it be? I’m not your boyfriend. You can talk to whoever you want.” He backtracks, realizing the connotation behind his question. Shit, why does he not think before he speaks?

“You could be,” you shrug, gaze casted downward to avoid his stare. “You could be my boyfriend.”

Again, because he’s a stupid boy, he chooses not to use his brain in such a critical situation. “I don’t want to be. You can date him for all I care.”

Hyunjae didn’t want to be the one to break your heart, but he knows he did when he sees the flame in your eyes die out. He thinks he broke his own too, chest constricting when tears well up in the corners. You wipe your runny nose with your gloved hand, sniffling with a scoff.

“Fuck you, Hyunjae,” your voice is surprisingly calm, and that scares him more. “Fuck you and your stupid fucking commitment issues and your lack of empathy. Stay away from me.”

He can’t even think of something quick enough to stop you. Of course, his mind runs at a million miles a minute when it’s the worst time. But when he needs it to work most, it fails on him. That’s exactly his luck.

He just stares as your figure gets smaller and smaller, getting further and further away from his reach. His stomach feels ugly, twisted in a way it shouldn’t be. Maybe it’s because he’d considered you a close friend at this point, and now there’s no way you didn’t hate him. He told you things that he hadn’t even told his brothers, things that he hoped would never see the light of day. He’d spoken his insecurities out into the world and you were the one he let see that vulnerable side of him. He had something good going for him finally, and he went and ruined it.

Who could he be mad at but himself?

When Hyunjae sees you again, it’s been at least a week since your argument in the middle of campus.

He’d been beating himself up over the fight the entire time. Numerous what-if scenarios ran through his mind when he should’ve been sleeping. He wonders what he could’ve said to make everything turn out differently. Had he just told you what was bothering him, told you about that icky sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, perhaps you wouldn’t have walked away.

He’s pretty sure you’re doing it on purpose. You avoided him until you knew you’d definitely see him, and then you’d flaunt yourself to purposefully piss him off. Despite only knowing each other for a little over a month, you had Hyunjae read like the back of your hand. You knew he was stubborn and had to be pushed into admitting he was wrong. He’d never outright confess to his mistakes unless you backed him into a corner and forced him to.

So you can imagine his reaction when he saw you walk into that week’s TBZ party with Cha Eunwoo around your shoulders.

If Lee Hyunjae had any faults, it was that he was too prideful. He realizes this when you stroll right past him, ignoring his presence. You giggle at something Eunwoo said as you grab some drinks. There’s no way you aren’t doing this to get on his nerves. Especially not in that outfit.

His grip on his cup is not normal, he knows that. But it’s not subtle if anyone notices and when Juyeon of all people points it out, he knows it even more.

“Yo, dude. Are you good? You look like you might kill somebody if we’d let you.” The younger male pats his back.

“Honestly, no, not really. But there isn’t really anything I can do about it.” Hyunjae huffs, welcoming his defeat with open arms.

“You can talk to me about things. It’s kinda weird but I always feel like getting out your thoughts is better than internalizing and blowing up randomly.” He says after a moment.

“I guess I’m just confused why I’m so jealous of something that isn’t mine.” The heart to heart with his frat brother follows the entire five stages of grief, starting with step one; Denial. He’ll keep denying the real reason he feels the way he does.

“Are you talking about that girl you were messing around with during break?” Juyeon asks, bringing his cup to his mouth. “And the fact that she’s here with Cha Eunwoo?”

Step two; Anger. His cup snaps and the sharp edge of the plastic scratches the inside of his palm. “Why would I be jealous of her being here with him? I could give less of a fuck about that. She’s not my girlfriend, she can do whatever she wants.”

He raises an eyebrow at how defensive his senior gets, lips quirking up. “Sure, Hyunjae. You’re not jealous. But you’re acting like it and you know you are.”

“Well,” step three; bargaining. “I’m not not jealous, I just— I don’t know. I’ve never been on this side of the situation before. Am I even allowed to be mad about it?”

“I mean, it’s a little unconventional, but yeah, I think you are. You spent the better part of a month getting to know this girl. You’ve seen her in ways other people haven’t. Even if you weren’t going into it with the intention to start something, I think it’s hard not to want anything after. Unless you’re completely heartless. But you’re not exactly The Grinch, so.” Juyeon sounds too wise for standing in the middle of a frat party.

“Nothing’s gonna happen now, though. She hates me and wants nothing to do with me because I screwed up.” Step four; Depression.

“You don’t know that unless you make an attempt to fix it,” his junior sighs. “Look, she’s gonna keep projecting how upset you made her if you aren’t gonna do something about it. But there’s a high chance that she’ll forgive you if you’re just real with her.”

And last, but not least, step five. Acceptance. Lee Hyunjae has finally accepted that he’s not an emotionless robot incapable of producing feelings for someone. He takes Juyeon’s advice right then and there, deciding that this is something he has to do immediately. (He also knows how much you can drink at these things and he preferred that you were sober when he spoke to you.)

He thanks his friend and sets off to search for you in the sea of already drunk university students. He’s anxious. He’s never been the type to have serious discussions about anything, really. He assumes that it stems from never seeing that in his own parents. They loved each other, yeah, but they never really talked about difficult topics with each other. Or, in front of him they didn’t.

Hyunjae thinks he might throw up when he finds you in the other room. Cha Eunwoo is still glued to your side, but he’s hardly paying attention to you, talking to his friends. You look bored, like you were waiting for something— or someone— to save you. This was his opportunity.

Your eyes widen when you see him heading straight for you, swallowing thickly. There wasn’t any route of escape so you were stuck having to deal with him. In all honesty, the hurt was still very fresh for you, and you weren’t sure you could handle talking to him yet.

“Can we please talk? I need to tell you something,” he yells over the loud music.

“Why should I listen to what you have to say?” Your tone is shaky, wavering slightly, but you’re grateful that he can’t hear it with how voluminous this party is.

“Y/N,” he pleads almost, eyes communicating what you needed to hear. “This is important.”

You concede, sneaking from Eunwoo and following Hyunjae blindly. You could be getting whisked away to your demise, but the former hardly even notices, too engrossed in whatever he was saying to his friends. You’re a bit apprehensive when Hyunjae takes you into his bedroom, biting your cheek when the memories of what you’ve done in here come flooding back to you.

“Okay, I don’t know how to put this into a coherent thought,” he turns his back to you.

“Can we just get this over with? You don’t want me, remember? I don’t even know why I’m giving you the time of day—“

“Of course I want you,” he exclaims, spinning around and pinching the bridge of his nose. “God, are you blind? It’s so obvious that I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/N. I’m just stupid and I fucked everything up, because I was scared that things would change and I’m afraid of change. That’s the reason why I have commitment problems. I don’t want to commit myself to something just for everything to change in the blink of an eye.”

You shut up after that, your heart skipping in your chest. This was what you wanted. You wanted a messy confession. Something that told you it wasn’t all in your head. That you weren’t making things up. That he felt the same way you did.

Your lips collide in a rough, desperate manner. Hyunjae’s never had a way with words, so kissing you with every ounce of longing in his being and holding you like you’d disappear any second was his outlet. This was how he could show you his true feelings. Your heart rate transitions from your pulse point to your ears, amplifying with each suck of your bottom lip between his teeth

You’ve done this so many times before, but it will never be the same as this one. No one could ever make you feel the way Lee Hyunjae does. It might be crazy, but it only took a month for you to realize that there will never be another for you. The conversations that trickled into early hours of the morning following going at it like jackrabbits were perfect to you. They weren’t ideal, but they were enough.

The two of you walk backwards until he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, your knees on either side of his lap. You cup his jaw in your hands, grinding down on him every time your lips move together. Hyunjae’s fingers dig into your sides and push up the material of your dress. He’s moving fast, rushed like you might decide you don’t want this and walk out of his room.

You can’t really blame him, your pace disorganized with only one goal in mind. Neither of you could be bothered with the foreplay, too needy and craving the touch of one another as quickly as possible. You part from him to pull off your dress, eyes fluttering shut when he starts leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach. He doesn’t want to waste time commenting on the fact that you were braless underneath so he busies himself with pecking the tops of your tits. Your fingers card through his hair with an extended sigh, noticing how long it’s gotten since you first met.

Hyunjae pushes his pants down his legs as you yank his shirt over his head, reconnecting your lips. He uses his ring and middle fingers to shove aside your underwear, discarding his own shortly after. Your mouth nips and bites your favorite places on his neck, ensuring you mark the surface so everyone knows who he belongs to. You were the one who acquired the key to Lee Hyunjae’s heart.

Your teeth sink into his skin the moment he slips inside of you, both of you moaning when he slides right into your cunt like he was meant to be there. You whine when he bottoms out, your sensitive clit bumping into his pelvic bone. You’re so warm and inviting, Hyunjae feels like he’s falling under a spell. Just being inside of you feels like a form of hypnosis. If it was up to him, he’d stay here forever, content to sit with his cock stuffed in you without interruption. But you both yearn for more than that.

He tightens his grip on your hips, bucking upwards into you and watching with heavy eyes as a whine spills from your lips. You look so fucked out despite him doing absolutely nothing to you yet. He thrusts up again experimentally, grinning when your upper half knocks into his.

“Feel good, baby?” He coos into your ear, nipping at the lobe and the area surrounding.

You nod with a whimper when his cock brushes that sweet spot deep inside your pussy. “Mhm, feels so— fuck, Jae, want it harder.”

“Anything for my pretty girl,” he smiles into your skin.

He increases the speed that he fucks into you, pinning down your hips so you can’t move and all you can do is take it. It’s like you can feel him in your abdomen, his cock plunging in you so far. You’d think after a month of fucking practically every day, you’d be used to his size by now. However, that was just not attainable. You don’t think you could ever get used to how big he was, how thick he was.

The force that he drives into you with is unmatched, miles apart from what he’s given you before. It’s like he wants to burn the shape of himself inside you, so you never forget that he’s the one making you feel like this. Nobody but Hyunjae can fuck you this well.

He moves you further up the bed, flattening his feet on the mattress and laying down so he can press deeper, a new angle that has your vision going blank. You don’t think twice about the volume of your cries, letting him know how good he’s giving it to you. You’re encouraging him, wanting him to get cockier so he can keep fucking you into oblivion. Your fingers grasp at the sheets beside his head for support.

Hyunjae’s nails impress crescent shapes into your waist, his mouth returning to your tits so he can leave his own marks all over your chest. It’s when your clit rubs against his lower stomach again that you let go, your orgasm crashing into like a train. It winds you, ripping your breath from your throat and stealing your oxygen. He’s close behind, the feeling of your walls clenching around him in rapid intervals triggering his own.

He fills you up nicely, both of you releasing guttural groans at the sight of his cum dripping out of you. You’re too exhausted to get up, collapsing on top of him. He doesn’t mind, more than happy to stay buried inside of you even if you didn’t do anything.

“So…” You start after a bit of silence, drawing unrecognizable shapes on his chest. “You’ve wanted me for so long, huh?”

“Shut up,” he laughs, eyes closed while he recuperates from using all of his energy on you. “This is still new for me.”

“I know, Mr. Emotionally Constipated And I Don’t Date ‘Cause I’m Going To Be A Big Fancy Hotshot Lawyer,” you tease, pecking his lips and then his nose. “I must be extremely special to be the one who changed your mind.”

“You’ll be the death of me, you know that right?” He shakes his head, brushing some of your hair from your face. You smile down at him with an unfamiliar fondness in your eyes.

“Why else do you think we’ve gotten this far?”

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jjunberry · 3 months

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⋰˚☆ same time tomorrow?

with moving to a new town all hope seemed lost until you meet a certain neighbor boy.

kim jongseob x fem!reader

genre ☪︎ slice of life, angst, fluff, neighbors to lovers

warnings ☪︎ arguments, seob is mean at one point, typical high school drama

wc ☪︎ 2.9k mlist ☪︎

packing up your life and moving away was not in your life’s bingo card. yet here you were placing the last few items into boxes. taping the box, you walked it outside of your childhood home and to the huge moving truck. your heart felt heavy as you took one final glance at the house you grew up in. part of you was hoping your mom would change her mind on the new job.

the honking of her car horn was just another nail in the coffin. she was ready to leave this town, but you? you weren’t ready to leave your childhood home, your friends, hell, even your school. your whole life was here. with a heavy sigh you got in the passenger side of the car.

your mom patted your shoulder, “cheer up sweetie! this is a good thing. a new start, a better school.” she tried so hard to make this move an exciting thing. it just wasn’t to you. “i liked my old school,” you grumbled before placing your headphones in to drown her rambling out.

the drive seemed to take the longest. you were quiet the whole ride, still secretly wishing she’d turn around and refuse the new job. your friends we’re texting you the whole time, but it wasn’t the same. the car came to a stop in a driveway, the house it was connected to was decently sized.

the moving truck pulled up out front, the workers quickly getting to work. you decided to just take your things in. grabbing a box you got to work, taking in one at a time. it wasn’t until the last box, the universe decided to screw you.

when you lifted the box the bottom gave out, successfully spilling the contents inside. “no, no, no,” you mumbled. you got down on your knees to gather the items, which were mainly trinkets from your bedroom. a lot of them memories with your friends. “let me help.” you looked up and seen a boy leaning down.

“it’s okay.” you replied, both of you grabbing a small turtle figurine. his hands were soft, you thought. “i don’t mind,” he grabbed the last few things, putting them back inside the box. “thank you,” you said standing up. the boy smiled. “it’s no problem,” he stuck his hand out “i’m jongseob, i live next door.” he pointed to his house.

you took his hand in yours, “i’m y/n, i also live next door.” you smiled pointing to your new house. he released your hand, laughing slightly. “well it’s nice to meet you, sorry i should have brought a casserole.” he laughed. “oh my god.” you snorted.

“y/n, sweetie who’s this?” your mom asked as she approached the truck. “this is jongseob.” you introduced them. “nice to meet you.” your mom said before taking another box in. “anything i can help with?” he asked. “i mean sure, we have few boxes left. they’re labeled by room.” he nodded before grabbing a box.

you took your box in, carefully this time. on your way downstairs, you were met with jongseob holding a box. “says y/n’s room.” he said holding the box up. “oh um, follow me.” you turned and went back up, jongseob following. he sat the box on your bedroom floor. his eyes scanning the bare room full of boxes. your twin sized bed pushed against the wall.

“hey cool, your window is across from mine.” he pointed. you looked out the window, his window was across from yours. “the curtain is closed but that’s probably for the better,” he scratched the back of his neck “ i have to clean.” he joked.

“it’s okay, no judgment here.” you turned to your boxes. he looked at his phone. “it’s getting pretty late, i’ll see you soon okay?” he asked. you nodded and watched him leave. “bye.” he yelled, running down the stairs.

it took a few weeks before everything was unpacked, but only a day for you to become friends with jongseob. he got home that night and opened his window, “hey neighbor.” he grinned. you leaned towards the window, “hi neighbor.”

“y/n,” jongseob called. you peaked out your blinds before unlocking your window and opening it. “hi seobie.” he smiled, “your mom invited us over for dinner tonight.”

“really? she didn’t mention anything to me,” you frowned. “i guess my mom saw her at the grocery store.” he shrugged.

“not too excited are you?” he leaned closer. “it's not that, just i wish she’d tell me things before doing them.”

jongseob frowned, “this isn’t about dinner is it?” you shook your head. “i know you aren’t happy about the move and starting school, but the brightside is you met me.” he smiled which made you laugh. “thanks seobie.”

“now cheer up, i hate seeing you sad,” he stepped back from the window “i’ll see you at dinner.” you waved bye and closed your windows. you closed your curtains and walked to your closet. eyes scanning the outfit options, you decided on a nice summer dress. this was your first time meeting jongseob’s parents and you wanted to make a good impression.

when it was finally time for his family to come over you couldn’t shake your nerves. it was just dinner, why were you so nervous? the door bell caught your attention, “honey get the door please.” your mom yelled from the kitchen.

you opened the door and was greeted by jongseob’s smiling face behind him was his parents. his smile was contagious, “hi welcome.” you stepped to the side letting them in. your mom walked around the corner brushing off her shirt, “hi welcome.” she greeted.

taking a seat next to jongseob, he smiled at you. “hey neighbor,” he bumped his shoulder with yours. “hi neighbor.” through dinner you were in your own little world with jongseob, occasionally talking with your parents. “so y/n are you excited to be starting school here?” jongseob’s mom speaks. your eyes snap to her, “uh yeah, a little nervous though.” you admit.

“don’t worry sweetie, jongseob will be there.” your eyes turned to jongseob as he started choking on his water. out of instinct you began patting his back, “are you okay?” you asked. he held his hand up nodding, holding back to many coughs.

bidding your goodbyes, you helped your mom clean up dinner. “that was nice, you seem to really get along with jongseob.” she nudge you, “i mean yeah he’s my friend.” you answered ignoring the rapid beating of your heart. she continued to talk but you drown her out, your mind thinking back to jongseob.

he was all that was on your mind all summer. the late night talk through the windows, the ice cream dates, the walks around the neighborhood. nothing could of prepared you for how hard and fast you fell for him.

as the summer days started to fade, you knew school was approaching. “are you nervous?” you asked. jongseob shook his head, “no not really.” he vaguely answered. you furrowed your eyebrows. “i guess you wouldn’t be, i am though.” you admitted. “it’s just school.” he mumbled, but you heard him.

“i think i’ll go to bed now, same time tomorrow?” you asked. jongseob nodded and closed his window, before you could even say goodnight. ignoring your heart you closed your window, laying down. what had gotten into him?

jongseob wasn’t at the window the next night, the next few nights to be exact. you had left yours open in hopes he would come but he never did. it made the night before school a million times worse. your nerves at an all time high, yet his window was shut. he didn’t answer any of your texts, it was like you had made him up.

“y/n,” your mom said opening your door. you were already awake staring out your window. “come on sweetie it’s time to get ready, jongseob’s mom said the bus comes around 7:30.” your stomach churned at his name. “i’ll be down,” she smiled and kissed your head before leaving.

after getting dressed you met your mom for breakfast. “oh sweetie you look beautiful,” she pulled you into a hug. your arms lazily wrapped around her. “eat up, you have a wonderful first day.” she waved, grabbing her work bag and leaving.

your legs carried you to the bus stop, where there was a few different kids in uniforms. jongseob was around a few other boys. your eyes met his briefly before he looked away. the boys around him were laughing at something on the phone. you took a breath and texted him simply saying hi. you heard his phone ding, he looked towards you but didn’t say anything.

he didn’t reply either, you sighed putting your headphones in. it wasn’t enough to drown out the ache in your heart. fate seemed to be not on your side, you shared a few different classes with jongseob. your other classes seemed to have at least of of the other two boys. it’s like you couldn’t escape it.

“hey i saw you at our bus stop this morning, are you new? i’m intak,” he stuck his hand out. you looked up, “um yeah i’m y/n.” you shook his hand. “nice to meet you.” he spoke before joining up with his friends.

when the end of the day finally came, you were releaved to be back home. “how was your first day?” your mom asked while plating dinner. “it was good,” you lied. “i’m so happy to hear that, did you share any classes with jongseob? i’m happy you made a friend like him.” she gushed.

“yeah jongseob is great,” you lied again. your mom smiled happy with your answer. once she dismissed you from dinner, you took off to your room. with a heavy heart you opened your window. jongseob’s bedroom light was on but his window and blinds were closed.

you kept your window open for as long as you could, but the night got later. sadly, you closed your window. of course he wouldn’t come to his.

unfortunately the next few weeks got worse, a group of girls decided you were public enemy number one. making your school life a living hell any chance they got. the worst part is no one said anything about it, the teachers did nothing to stop it.

it happened at lunch, you were waiting in line when they approached you. “hey y/n,” you ignored them. you couldn’t ignore the cold liquid that ran down your back. you jumped forward and screamed, “what is wrong with you?” the laughed.

your eyes scanned the cafeteria looking for an escape, your eyes landed on jongseob.

you looked at him sadly once his friends joined in the laughing. your feet carried you out of the cafeteria, not missing the chance to bump jongseob’s shoulder with yours. what were you expecting him to do? play hero, give you his jacket? of course not.

it took about twenty-five minutes to dry your shirt, and get a new one from the secretary. the walk back to class was a long one, of course you didn’t want to go back but your bag was there. the sound of laughter caught your attention, your feet frozen at the door when you heard what was being said.

“jongseob is so sweet, i just wish he’d look at me the way i look at him,” giggles. “stop it.” your heart started to race hearing jongseob’s voice.

“i’m not finished seobie,” the girl said. “he doesn’t even keep his curtains open anymore, oh my god she’s a creep.” more laughter filled the room. tears welled in your eyes. “i just wished he liked me how i like him,” jongseob snatched the little book containing your deepest secrets and feelings.

“i don’t like her i never will.” he snapped shoving the diary back in your bag. once the laughter died down you rushed in with your head down, quickly grabbing your bag. you checked to make sure all your stuff was inside. “don’t worry your stalker diary is still there.” the girls laughed again.

you made eye contact with jongseob. only when he noticed your tearful eyes did he start to feel bad. “y/n,” he started but you walked away before he could finish. how could you have been so stupid? of course he doesn’t like you. were you over bearing? did you scare him away?

the walk home was long, thankfully it was the weekend and you could have two days of peace without those girls, without jongseob. your mom didn’t question your absence at dinner, and you were thankful.

jongseob sighed seeing your window shut and curtains closed. his heart ached. all he wanted to do was apologize. even if you rejected him at least he’d get to apologize. he needed to do something.

it was jongseob’s turn to hopelessly wait for your window to open. he’d wait everyday after school, during the weekends. he sent countless texts that were always left unanswered. how could he have been so cruel? his heart ached when he remembered how bad he treated you.

his eyes searched the school to catch a glimpse of you, but he never got one. you had gotten too good at avoiding him. “i don’t know what to do,” he groaned laying his head on the table. “what are you on about now?” shota asked. “y/n, she’s ignoring me, “ shota scoffed, “ i’d avoid you too if you openly said you’d never date me. that’s heart breaking dude.” jongseob groaned, “dude that’s not helping.” shota sat up, “well you broke her heart, why were you ignoring her anyway?” jongseob sighed, “ i thought the guys would laugh if i was friends with a girl.” shota smacked jongseob’s shoulder. “you idiot,” jongseob groaned holding his shoulder.

intak approached the pair. “hey guys, seob what’s up with you?” he sat next to them. “jongseob is trying to win y/n over again,” shota explained. intak laughed, “ good luck dude she’s super upset with you.” he opened his bag of chips.

jongseob sat up quickly, “how do you know that?” intak ate a chip and shrugged, “i share a class with her.”

jongseob sighed, “what do i do? she won’t even talk to me.”

“have you tried throwing rocks at her window?” intak asked shoving more chips in his mouth. jongseob’s eyes widened, “intak you genius.” he spoke scrambling up before rushing off.

he waited until your bedroom light came on, his pile of rocks by his sneakers. heart practically beating out of his chest. this was his one shot to get your attention. the rock felt heavy in his hand but not as heavy as his heart, letting out a sigh he tossed the first rock. it ticked off the window but the sound wasn’t loud enough. a few more duds were thrown before he moved onto a bigger rock.

he wasn’t expecting that one to shatter the glass. his eyes went wide and he cringed hearing it. a few seconds later your window flew open, “what the hell jongseob?” you whisper yelled. your eyes were furious but he didn’t care because you were finally looking at him again. “y/n,” he said your name. your heart ached. “what do you want jongseob?”

“i want to apologize, i’m sorry for hurting you,” you scoffed. “it’s going to take a lot more than that, you really hurt me.” jongseob’s heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. “i’ll do anything y/n, just please don’t shut me out anymore.” he was begging at this point. “maybe you should of thought about that before shutting me out,” you wanted to slam your window closed but you couldn’t bring yourself too.

“i know and i’m sorry, i was scared. i know that’s not an excuse but i’ve never liked anyone before i never had a friend who was a girl. i was afraid of what people would say.” he felt ashamed. “you should of been honest with me.” you began to carefully pick up pieces of glass from the window.

“y/n?” he called. “yeah?”

“same time tomorrow?” he was hopeful. “goodnight jongseob.”

your window closed, he felt like his whole world just crashed down around him.

for a week, he waited with his window open everyday after school. it was friday, jongseob had skipped school faking being sick. in reality he couldn’t go another day of being ignored by you at school, and his friends giving him the look of pity. he sat at his desk mindlessly tapping a pencil, his window open.

your window opened, “jongseob.” you choked out. his eyes snapped to you, taking in your puffy eyes. “y/n, what happened?” he asked. “t-they ripped up my journal and made copies of the pages.” you cried, regret filling you for ever taking it to school. “oh y/n i’m so sorry.” he said. you sniffled, “it’s not your fault, those girls are cruel.”

“still they’re being mean and i should have stopped it way before this.” he was upset with himself. “it’s okay really, it would have painted a target on your back, defending the new girl.” you let out a bitter laugh. “i should've been your friend.” he snapped. you sighed, “what’s happened, happened we can’t change the past.” you shrugged.

“no but we can change the future, i’m sorry for hurting you y/n, i really care about you and i would love it to be your friend again.” he admitted, he was practically holding his heart out to you. “seobie, i would love nothing more than to change the future with you.”

he smiled at you, and for the first time in months you smiled at him in return. “same time tomorrow?” he asked. you smiled, “same time tomorrow.” you answered.

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 3 months

Note

Soulmates with Peter Parker? 🥺💕

.⋆｡Arachnophobia｡⋆.

Peter Parker x plus size reader

Who knew that moving to New York could be just the kick the universe needed to fulfil your destiny?

Warnings: fluff, soulmate AU, explosions WC: 876

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

6k Celebration Bingo

Well this spider doesn’t hate you.

Those were the words that appeared along your collarbone the day you turned 18. The black lettering was just barely visible when you awoke that morning but by lunch time, all of your friends were poking fun at the strange phrase now permanently branded into your skin. You glared at them as you told them to back off and that you at least had an interesting soulmate if their first words to you were as strange as that.

But a nagging part of your mind wondered if they were right, if the person that burned with the same flame as you did was some kind of weirdo. As the months went on, you imagined countless scenarios where those six words would be uttered to you. Maybe at a frat costume party where they would be dressed like a spider. Or they were your next door neighbour and they saved you from a stray arachnid that had made a home in your kitchen. Or maybe they were just really into spiders in general. Needless to say, your obsession with your soulmate's words had slowly developed an aversion to the insects, going completely out of your way to avoid them just in case your soulmate was a weirdo like your friends had predicted.

Three years after you finally escaped the social wormhole of high school, you moved to New York City. With a scholarship under your belt and dreams of going to a college that could handle more than 300 students, you moved into a tiny dorm right at the edge of Columbia’s campus. You were excited to chase your dream but first- you needed groceries.

With headphones fitted tightly against your ears, the deafening sounds of the city blurred around you. You weren’t really sure exactly where you were going but it was early afternoon and your phone was fully charged, so what was the harm in wandering for a while.

New York City opened up before you, the skyline glittered with thousands of windows and bright lights capturing your gaze no matter where you turned. It was all so exciting and rather distracting. You were ignorant to the commotion building behind you, until a strange heat licked at the back of your neck.

In a second, your world went completely upside down, literally. The only warning you received before the wind was knocked from your lungs was the blast of some sort of explosion and then, the world zipped by you. Someone had a firm hold on your thick waist as dots of light swirled around you. You clung to them, your head spinning as they lifted you higher and higher, until it all suddenly stopped.

Gravel crunched under your shoes as you stumbled forwards. A hand curled around your wrist, keeping you upright. You crashed into his strong chest. Your eyes slowly came into focus as the ringing in your ears faded. Sirens filled the air yet all you could think about was the insignia of a spider splayed across the red suit right in front of you.

“God I hate spiders.” The white eyes of his mask widened comically as you heard his breath stutter. His grip on your waist tightened for just a second.

“Well this spider doesn’t hate you.” The world stilled in that moment. You leaned back just enough to look into his eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“I didn’t expect this.”

“Neither did I, I mean I am Spider-MAN and you hate spiders.” Heat crawled up your cheeks while you bashfully glanced away but quickly looked at him as he laughed. Something deep in your chest came to life with his laugh, quickly spreading through your veins and making your heart flutter with a whole new emotion.

His gloved hands slipped down to the small of your back. You could feel the way his body shook with adrenaline, just the same as yours was. “Maybe I don’t hate this spider.”

“I could be venomous.” You shrugged, your fingers slowly creeping up the expanse of his torso, feeling the toned muscle that lay just beneath his suit.

“As long as you don’t bite, I think we’ll be ok.” His mask scrunched up where you imagined his lips would be.

“I-“ Another explosion rocked the building beneath your feet. He tore his gaze away from you. He sighed heavily and reluctantly took a step back. “I have to go.”

Your touch lingered on him for as long as you could, almost fearful that he would completely vanish the second you let him go. “I know.” The tips of his fingers brushed against the swell of your hips.

“I’ll come back, I swear.” His voice cracked.

“Go save the world Spidey and I’ll let you take me on a date.” And with a gentle kiss to his masked cheek, you fully broke away from the other half of your soul.

He jumped onto the ledge of the building you stood atop of. “Just so long as there’s plenty of flies for me to eat.” And as he swung away, your laughter still ringing in his ears, Peter was suddenly glad that there was one person in the world who hated spiders.

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astroboots · 11 months

Text

Heatwave

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Summary: Santiago and you try to occupy yourselves during another heatwave in Florida.

Rating: Explicit, edging, bratty-ass behavior from one Santiago.

Pairing: Santiago x female reader (you)

Word Count: 4,000

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' masterlist

At what point does a spiking high temperature no longer count as a heatwave and just becomes the new average temperature for the local area. Is it after the third or sixth heatwave in a month? And for that matter, how many record breaking high temperatures can one summer have in store for a state that is already known for its hot climate?

Fuck! Why did he move back here again?

Santiago is melting. Lying slumped against the cool flooring of the bedroom where the breeze reaches. He's stripped off his clothes, wearing nothing but his boxers and staying far away from any walls because they are fucking radiating heat. At one point he's pretty sure he saw the edges of the walls wobble from the inferno temperature raging outside... either that or his vision is blurring out on him.

It must be what? 150 degrees, 200?? He doesn't care what the weatherman is reporting, there's no fucking way it's only 110 out there.

Leaning his head back down on the cold wooden flooring for reprieve, he can't remember the last time Florida got so hot. (If it has, he hasn't been here to see it).

Shit, it must be even hotter than that time you drove him down to the airport, what was it now, ten or twelve years ago? It got so fucking hot that the radio was warning about staying away from the highway because the tarmac was at risk of melting.

No one in their right mind would've gone out on the road that day. Except you of course. In your shitty little Volvo, with a broken A/C and a clutch that creaked with every change of gear. It's lucky the old piece of junk made it to the airport at all, and nothing short of a miracle that you made it there in time.

He can still see it in his mind's eye. The way your hair was matted with sweat as you pulled up to the drop off point. Still remembers how his old t-shirt was glued to every inch of his sweaty back as he peeled himself off the passenger seat. How, even as disgusting as the two of you felt, drenched in sweat and smelling like two dumpster diving raccoons, having been trapped on the highway for over an hour in that heat, you had held onto his torso as if you were never going to let him go. Your pinkie wrapped around his, so tightly, he was sure the blood circulation was entirely cut off as you told him in no uncertain terms: "You better fucking come back home in one piece, Santiago."

A smile breaks out across his face at the memory. From a distance he can hear the familiar sound of your footfall from the hallway, followed by your voice echoing all the way upstairs as you call out for him.

"Santiagoooo!"

If it wasn't for the heat, he'd call back in response to you. But all the strength is zapped out of him. Plus, he suspects that the reason you're calling for him is to rope him into helping Frankie with the latest crazy home project the man's set on finishing this weekend (and in this heat Santiago's not going anywhere near that).

"Honey." The endearing nickname has him smiling even wider. His mouth parts, just about to respond to you when he hears the rest of your sentence.

"Frankie needs help sanding down the fence."

Bingo.

No way in hell he's responding now.

He can hear you opening and closing doors all over the house in search of him. You'll find him eventually, but it doesn't mean he's not going to take his time enjoying the last few moments of being in the safe shelter out of the sun.

There's a soft click as the door to the bedroom opens. From his limited view on the floor, he sees glimpses of your feet from the corner of his eyes as you march in front of him until you're standing above, looming over his form.

"Santiago. I was looking for you everywhere."

He lets the hand resting on his thigh slide down to the front of his boxers without thought and that catches your immediate attention.

There's a sharp and sudden inhale from you, as if the air is spiked. You look like you've forgotten how to breathe properly.

You liked that huh? The corner of his lips curl into a smile as he holds eye contact with you.

"Sorry, must've dozed off."

"Har, har. Stop lounging around half naked and acting like a thirst trap. Frankie needs help with the fence."

"It's 200 fucking degrees. I'm not going to do that. Frankie can finish his home improvement project when Armageddon isn't happening outside."

You shoot him a small frown. Arms crossing in front of your chest.

He pats the space on the floor right next to himself, as he continues. “Come lay down with me for a second to cool down. You look like you might be overheating. Don’t wanna get heatstroke or anything. Frankie can wait a few minutes.”

You don't move from the spot, making no move to join him. "Poor Frankie is doing all the work."

Santiago's itching to retort that there's nothing "poor" about Frankie's situation. Man is having the time of his life out there. He loves doing these projects.

But Santiago keeps his mouth shut. Because he knows if he doesn't, he'll inevitable set you two up for a back and forth of who's right and wrong, who wins and who's losing the argument, trying to one-up each other the rest of the afternoon. And it's not that Santiago doesn't absolutely love doing that with you but...

Peering up at you, the way your lips are swollen with heat and parted as you look at him, Santiago has a much better idea of how he wants to spend the rest of the afternoon with you.

"Just a little bit, sweetheart," he says, doing his best to sweet talk you as he pats his free hand over the same spot on the floor in invitation. "Come sit with me for one minute, and I promise I'll go help Frankie okay?"

Glancing over your shoulder, you throw a quick glance over the window, probably to check in on Frankie.

"Just a minute, okay?"

"Mhmm. Just one."

It doesn't take more persuasion from him than that. Next thing he knows, you're walking over to him. Soft steps and an even softer gaze in your eyes. Then you sink down on the floor and sit down on the spot right where he patted.

That was... surprisingly easy.

He'd expected more resistance from you. Was fully prepared to do a filibuster marathon to try to convince you to join him. Hadn't quite expected you to just... give into him the way you just did. He blinks up in surprise, at your face mere inches away from him. He's not fully sure what just happened. You've never turned down an opportunity to put up a fight with him before.

You stare down at his chest and bare stomach, lingering there. You swallow down reflexively as you take him in with heated eyes.

Huh...

Santiago knows the effect he has on women. He just never knew he had that effect on you.

As arrogant as it sounds, he knows he's a good looking man. Knows that he's charming to boot. But the relationship between the two of you, for all the love that you had held for each other, had always remained platonic back in the day. You don't look at him the way other women do. And Santiago doesn't flirt with you the way he does with other women. Those were the unspoken rules you two had set for each other from the start and it's all you two have ever known.

And while things have changed now. While Santiago's seen the heated looks you give him when he's in bed with you, your relationship has remained largely unchanged outside of it.

You still pull him up on his bullshit when he's earned it. Never hesitate to square up with him in a competition for anything.

This... This is new.

He taps his bare thigh, almost experimentally to test his theory. He doesn't miss the way your pupils dilate with interest, and as always he can't resist the urge to goad you.

Not when you're eyeing him so appreciatively, in a way that you've never done in the past in all your years of friendships until recently. He figures he's earned the right after all this time to be a little bit obnoxious and revel and preen in the attention from you.

"Cariño," he calls out, until your eyes pulls back up to his face. "Eyes up here," he teases.

You roll your eyes, smacking him in the chest. It's supposedly a playful gesture, but you do it with enough strength that it knocks the breath out of him.

"I know," you retort, but your eyes drift back to his chest and then continue downwards and the attention has heat spearing through his limbs.

"You're still looking," he teases, and his hand snakes down over the plane of his thighs, reveling in your attentive gaze. "Didn't know you were such a perv."

By now you'd usually retaliate or cuss him out, but you don't.

Instead, you continue to stare, eyes blown wide as if you've been cast under a spell, mesmerized.

He palms himself through the front of his boxers, and he can feel the rush of blood rushing down and away from his head as his cock stirs to hardness. If Santiago was considered full of himself before this, it's nothing compared to how he feels in this moment with the way you're looking at him. Your expression blank, like the sight of him has made you lose your ability to speak. Mouth parted, the glistening pink of your tongue peeking out, as if you would devour him if he'd let you.

"Should I give you a show then?" he asks.

After all, if you want to look, he's more than happy to give you something proper to look at.

You nod with an eagerness that has your head bouncing up and down like the bopping bobble head toy Frankie keeps on the dashboard. Santiago lets out a laugh that's more breathless than he had expected from himself. He blames it on the heat.

Dragging down the edge of his boxers, he keeps his eyes on yours as his fingers wrap around the base of himself and his cock jumps in response to the touch.

Shit, that's good. A sweet spike of pleasure runs through him at the languid touch, and he feels breathless with it. His cock is slick with precome that drips down the length with each slide of his hand.

Running his hand up the rigid length, the calloused skin graze against the sensitive skin. Pleasure ooze and drips inside his chest and down his limbs, until his legs tremble with it. Santiago's touched himself countless times before but it's never felt like this before.

Maybe it's the heat that's getting to him. Or maybe it's the way you're inching closer with each passing second until you're practically straddling him on his lap. You and your soft and perfect thighs pressing down on his own, keeping him pinned onto the floor as he tries to keep going. The heat he can feel from between your legs, through the thin layer of cotton that's pressed onto his bare skin. Yeah... maybe it's that.

Santiago goes slow and languid as he touches himself for your benefit. And as ridiculous as it sounds it is for you. Because if it wasn't for you, there's no chance in hell he'd be going this slowly. He'd be fast and almost sloppy, squeezing down on his cock until the desperate need that's riding his spine lets go with his climax. If you weren't here, gorgeous eyes all focused on him, with a look that he wouldn't even let himself dream of in the past, he wouldn't want to prolong it the way he is.

Even now, with the strained effort of taking it as slow as he can possibly stand, he's not entirely sure how long he'll last. He feels like he's on a precarious edge, his climax taunting him, swelling up and simmering with a slow burn in his stomach.

Your torso tilts forward, squirming in his lap, with the tiniest movement every time his hand moves upwards, in time with his strokes.

You're practically riding his thigh, and Jesus fucking christ, that isn't helping Santiago's situation right now. At this point you're both going to come dry humping each other like horny clueless Mormons on their wedding night.

"Sweetheart, wait--" he tries, but you press yourself down on his thigh all the same, and he can feel your sweet slick drip down on his thigh and coat him with it. All he's capable of is a deep and shameless moan.

His cock twitches in his hand, and for several alarming seconds, Santiago thinks that's it. That it's already too late and he's going to come right then and there, spilling himself all over his hand and stomach.

Santiago squeezes down hard around the base of his cock to stave off the needy sensation.

"Shit," he hisses. "Fuck. fuck. Sweetheart, gonna need you to--" he doesn't finish his sentence. Can't spare the seconds it would take to properly think. One hand is already reaching out under your dress (thank god you're wearing a dress) wedging your panties to the side, his other pulling you closer by your waist until your pussy is lined up with the swollen head of his cock.

He doesn't even have time to move his hand in place to grip at his cock before you push down on him. Heat streaks through his insides until his lungs feels like they're burning. Your perfect pussy envelops all of him, every single throbbing aching inch with slick warmth and perfect pressure until his vision whites out.

Fuck, why is he so fucking sensitive.

He can't... fuck, he can't hold on. A desperate groan tears out of his throat and he buries his face into your neck to hide from the sensation that has him surrounded.

He thrusts upwards, canting his hips until you're taking all of him.

Pleasure singes his entire spine, and it burns him alive with it. The heat is unbearable, sweat is plastered to his back, but it doesn't matter. Santiago's skin is damp and sticky, but he's still pressing you closer. Wants every inch of you, warm and gorgeous and so fucking soft, pressed against him in every way he can have you, and he's still not sure if that'd be enough.

Wants to make up for every year, hour, minute and second that he'd wasted of his life, being away from you. Wants all of that even if it kills him.

Planting his feet on the wooden floor for leverage, he grabs your hips to force you down as far as you can take him. Until your head throws back with a high-pitched whine, palms pushing down on his chest as if it's too much for you to handle, and he lets go, sinking down his hips back towards the floor, until only the tip of him rests inside you.

He gives you a handful of seconds to catch your breath. Then he grabs your waist and push you down on his cock. Again, and again. To the gorgeous sounds of your keen moans and whines all blended into one, as you're sobbing out his name.

Forceful, deep thrusts that has tears pushing in the corner of your eyes. He keeps going as the sweet aching heat has him drunk and euphoric on you, with each and every rise and cant of his hips.

He's not going to last. Shit, shit, he's not going to last like this.

But that's okay. Because judging from the way you're grinding against him. Needy and desperate. Your cunt squeezing so tight around his cock it makes it hard to breathe, you're not going to last either.

His hand strays down below your stomach, sliding between your legs until his thumb catches at your clit, slippery and wet, and absolutely dripping for him. You sob at the contact, wracked in shivers as he continues to rub smooth little circles over it, and he can feel just how close you are.

You're perfect. Eyes squeezed shut, head tilted back in surrender, a high-pitched whine escaping your throat and oh fuck Santiago was not prepared for this.

His brain stalls out, hand stopping as his movements comes to a still to take in the sight before him because...You are so fucking beautiful like this.

"Santiago, what the fuck, make me—" you're slapping his shoulder, voice high pitched and desperate that makes his spine tingle as you grind on him. "Fuck make me cum, don't be an ass."

Fuck what is he doing?

Santiago's not sure. Not sure why he's stopped, even as every nerve and muscle in him is screaming for him to chase after the pleasure until both of you are coming.

Not sure why he's just sitting there dumbfounded. Except, this is everything he's wanted for so long that he's denied himself and he realizes that right now— it's here, landed in his very lap. You're the woman he's loved for so long, no matter how much he's denied it to himself, and he just wants to make this moment last.

All he knows is that he doesn't want this to end.

"Wait, sweetheart," he murmurs, even as you squirm from his grip pinning you in place. "Just give me a second. Want to remember this," and he means it with more sincerity than he ever thought he had left in him as he stares up at you in complete awe.

He wants it to last.

Not just out of a ill-placed sense of pride. Not just because he knows you're going to give him shit for coming too fast.

He just wants this to last. Wants you in his arms like this. Wants you to look at him, just like this, like you need him to survive, more than your next breath. This. This. This. He wants it to last forever.

You don't listen to him though. Of course you don't, because you never make it that easy for him. Your hips roll against him, grinding with desperation until his cock nudges something devastatingly perfect that has him convinced his brain is melting.

Shit, he has to stop. Oh fuck oh fuck, he's too close—

"Stop stop," he warns, hand gripping down on your hips to stop you "Boa, Stop— fuck you're gonna make me—"

But it's too late. It's already happening. He can feel his cock pulse and throb as he spills himself inside of you, shuddering through his orgasm— and fuck this was not how it was supposed to go down.

Everything slows. It's everywhere, rushing through him with a chaotic frenzy as it wrings him dry. The euphoric sensation overcrowding everything else, and his head feels like he is going to split with it. He can't think. Can't breathe.

But even in his post-cum haze he knows you still haven't come and he can't have that.

Santiago grits through it. Biting down and clenching on his jaw to ride through the over-brimming sensation that threatens to burst out of his skin as he continues to thrust into you.

Oversensitive and overstimulated. Every slick slide of your perfect pussy has him gasping for air. It's too much. Like live wires are running through his skin and every cant of your hips against him sets every receptor in his brain on overdrive. His cock is so sensitive, he can feel every fraction of you wrapped around him.

And it's perfect and it's good. And it's just so fucking much.

You're burning hot. He feels feverish and on the brink of delirium from the heat. Like he's inside a live furnace, but he doesn't want to stop. Can't stop. Not until he's seen your eyes roll into the back of your head. Not until you've come apart for him.

Locking his arm over the small of your back, he flips you over, onto your back. Pushing his free hand between your bodies until his thumb is rubbing rough little circles on your clit again.

He keeps going, pushing inside even as every nerve at him is screaming for respite. Santiago doesn't stop though. You're so close, and he just has to hold on even as each flutter and squeeze of your cunt is pushing him over the edge of too much.

Doesn't stop even as your gorgeous eyelashes flutter dramatically, your eyes rolling back as you kick your leg out and finally, finally comes on his cock.

The sensation of your climax punches the last breath out of him. He can hear himself whine pathetically into your neck.

The overwhelming tightness of you, your pussy squeezing and clenching down over and over, as if you're trying to wring and empty him out of anything he has left him. It brings him to his knees and collapses into you.

Everything feels sticky and clammy. Both of you drenched, as he's pinning you down with his weight. He feels weightless and heavy all at the same time. It doesn't make sense and shouldn't even be possible. But it certainly didn't help him in his efforts to move

To the protest of his exhausted limbs, Santiago rolls over to lay on his back next to you there on the floor. Both of you sweaty and panting.

God this might have been a bad idea.

It was too fucking hot even before all the physical exertion, now it's like an inferno. He's seconds from passing out. But at least the floor is marginally cooler against his back than the surrounding air, while you're laying there catching their breath.

Every inch of him thrums with pleasure, and his body practically tingles with the afterglow of his climax. But he can't help the scowl on his face. He's mentally cringing.

He came too fast.

Shot his load like some overeager virgin.

And there's no fucking way you wouldn't have noticed that he came before you. It's only a matter of you catching your breath, before you start giving him shit about it.

He lies there, staring up at the ceiling, preemptively trying to come up with some kind of defense or comeback but nothing comes to him. The only thing that fills his head is the image of your eyes from seconds ago, gazing down on him, looking at him the way that deep down, through all those years of platonic friendship, for all the way he's tried to repressed it, he's always wanted you to look at him.

It's so fucking stupid, but his stomach flutters pleasantly at the memory.

"Hey, Santiago...?"

He closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face trying desperately to pull himself together. Because even though he knows it's coming. Right now he feels too naked and raw, without protection to brace himself at whatever joke you're sure to make next at his expense.

Feels a little bit too exposed after that perfect moment of having everything he never let himself acknowledge that he wanted right there in his arms.

He swallows, bracing himself for the witty remark, as he responds to you with a weak, "Yeah?"

You don't say anything.

Instead, he feels just the barest touch against his hand, and he looks down. Your fingers slides against the heel of his hand, searching for his hand before you find his pinkie and curl around it. He drags his eyes back towards your face and you have the softest smile on your sweaty, gorgeous face.

"I'm glad you're here," you say, there's no sarcasm there. Your voice is soft and quiet, and so sincere.

He doesn't know what is happening to him but his chest constricts and is drawn so tight it's painful. And suddenly he's blinking back tears. Call him dramatic, but for a brief moment Santiago swears the chest pains are a sign of cardiac arrest, until you grip his pinkie tighter and the pain eases.

"Yeah...." Santiago nods. Has to clear his throat before he can get the rest of the words out from the lump that is lodged in his throat. "Yeah, me too. Sweetheart. Me too."

Sweat sticks to his back, and the heat is unbearable. But he doesn't want to move. Doesn't ever want to leave this spot with you lying next to him.

He'll never admit it out loud. But he knows why even though he hates Florida with every inch of his soul, he'll always find his way back here. Why no matter how far away he goes, a part of him will always be left behind here. A long long time ago in the drop off zone of Miami International, on a disgusting hot and sweaty day just like today, he made a promise. He promised that he'll always came back home to you.

Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproiblemss who came up with that DEVASTATING concept of the pinkie holding post-sex.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#oscar isaac #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader x frankie morales #frankie morales #pedro pascal

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emlovessid · 23 days

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@wolfstarbingo2024 for the prompt they were roommates, 635 words bingo masterpost

It's been two years, eight months and five days since Sirius first met Remus, when they were randomly assigned as roommates in their first year of university.

He'd been sick to his stomach all morning waiting for his roommate to arrive, running through a thousand different scenarios in his head, each seemingly worse than the last.

What if we don't get along? What if they have shit taste in music? What if they snore? What if their friends are annoying and they bring them around all the time? What if they have a partner who's annoying and they bring them around all the time?

What if no one shows up at all?

So when his new roommate does eventually arrive that afternoon – nervous smile, baggy sweater, scar across his nose, duffel bag slung over his shoulder – and introduces himself as Remus, Sirius realises pretty quickly that all of his worrying had been for nothing.

–

It's been two years, eights months and two days since Sirius decided he wanted to sleep with Remus, when he first saw him walk out of their shared bathroom, towel clutched around his waist as he darts out to grab his forgotten clothes.

"Sorry, forgot these," Remus says with an apologetic smile, scooping the folded clothes from the end of his bed with the hand not holding his towel in place, and disappearing back into the bathroom.

It's a crisis Sirius doesn't need only three days into the semester, sitting red-faced and cross-legged on his bed, trying to focus on his timetable instead of the droplets of water dripping down Remus' chest that he has the overwhelming urge to lick from his skin.

–

It's been two years, one month and six days since Sirius realised he's in love with Remus, when they both fell sick with some sort of stomach bug and spent a feverish 24-hours talking across the space between their twin beds in between bouts of sleep and cold showers.

"If we died in here, how long do you think it'd take for someone to notice?" Sirius asks from where he lays corpse-like under his covers.

"Jesus, Sirius. What happened to the power of positive thinking?" Remus attempts a laugh, before grimacing and clutching at his stomach.

"Oh, that's long gone. I'm writing my will in my head, now."

"God, you're dramatic." A pause. "Can you write one for me while you're at it?"

–

It's been thirteen hours and twenty-five minutes since Sirius found out that his unrequited love wasn't so unrequited after all, over a sink of dirty dishes of all things.

Hands submerged in the hot, soapy water as he washes their dishes from dinner, he calls out, "Hey Moons! Can you help me for a sec? I've got this piece of hair in my face and it's driving me nuts."

Appearing from the other room, Remus shuffles across the kitchen in his pyjamas and socked feet, rolling his eyes fondly at Sirius as he reaches out to tuck the stray strand of hair behind Sirius' ear. Sirius tilts his head in question when Remus pauses, hand hovering over his ear for a few moments before it slides into Sirius' hair, cupping the back of his head and pulling their lips together in a kiss.

It's instinct more than anything, that has Sirius wrapping his arms around Remus' back to hold him close, realising a moment too late that his wet, soapy hands are now soaking into the back of Remus' t-shirt; not that either of them really mind.

"Good morning," Remus mumbles now, a sleepy smile on his lips as his tired eyes find Sirius' on the pillow beside him, their legs tangled together beneath Sirius' sheets.

"Good morning," Sirius whispers, a lovesick grin on his face as he kisses Remus softly. Just because he can.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #wolfstarbingo2024 #marauders #sometimes i write things

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cywscross · 8 months

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Title: Nothing Like a Good Cup of Tea Fandom: The Mentalist Character/Pairing: CBI Team & Patrick Jane, Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon, CBI Team Rating: G Word Count: 1,291 Summary: Prompt: tea makes everything better Tags: Non-Human Patrick Jane, Magic, Team as Family Submitted For: - 3SF2024 (@three-sentence-ficathon) - Across the Universe Bingo - Witch - Gen Prompt Bingo [Round 22] - Superpowers - 100ships - #84. Crystal - Post-July Break Bingo 2023 - "Do you trust me?" - Fandom-Free Bingo: Frosty Edition - Haunted Eyes (@fandom-free-bingo)

#the mentalist #fanfiction #cywscross #3SF24 #across the universe bingo #gen prompt bingo #100 ships challenge #post july break bingo 2023 #fandom-free bingo: frosty edition

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gyorouis · 2 months

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𐙚 PLEASURE DELAYER.

— "your mystery, like an orange peel's stings left its mark despite my delicate efforts."

genre: fluff, angst

pairing: varsity/med student!yeonjun x med student!y/n (fem reader)

warning: swearing, (bad writing lol)

word count: 3.4k

now playing: between friends — pleasure delayer ୨ৎ

the first time you laid your eyes on yeonjun, was when your university had a sport’s week. you were patiently waiting for your friend beomgyu who was busy taking photos for the journalism department's upcoming feature. you stood there, outside the court, hands on your pocket and chewing on your gum, time seemed to drag on. growing increasingly bored waiting for beomgyu, you eventually wandered into the gymnasium.

loud screams from the spectators on the benches filled the air, some holding red balloons and others clutching yellow ones. you scanned the crowd, searching for a tall guy with copper hair and a camera hanging around his neck. finally spotting him, you saw beomgyu sitting on one of the benches, completely absorbed in the game, seemingly forgetting that his best friend was waiting outside the gymnasium.

“y/n!” he screams when he spots you, glaring at him as he waves his hands, signaling you to sit beside him. you shake your head, sports like this don’t excite you. he stomps his feet and looks at you pleadingly. defeated, you slowly walk towards him. you release a deep sigh when you sit beside him. “is that a sigh i'm hearing?” he exclaims. you roll your eyes and try to focus on the court where the game is happening. you see the players dribbling, shooting, and the crowd cheering enthusiastically with each point scored. you can't quite grasp what makes this game so thrilling for people like beomgyu, who is groaning each time your department scores. you’ve never enjoyed watching basketball; the fast-paced action and strategic plays seem lost on you. you glance around at the excited faces of the fans, trying to understand their enthusiasm.

you were fidgeting in your seat, unease creeping in as your eyes swept across the bustling stadium. the air was thick with the clamor of enthusiastic fans, their cheers echoing off the walls. red and yellow balloons bobbed above the crowd, adding splashes of color to the sea of faces. despite feeling out of place in this lively atmosphere, you resolved to give it one last shot and focus on the game unfolding before you.

as you glance towards the court, your eyes fixate on a dark-haired guy wearing your department’s basketball jersey. he stands out amidst the flurry of action, his movements flowing with a captivating confidence. although you’re not well-versed in basketball, his skills and passion for the game are unmistakable and draw you in.

you notice how effortlessly he dribbles the ball, swiftly maneuvering past defenders with grace. each shot he takes seems calculated yet instinctive, earning cheers from the crowd each time the ball finds its mark. his movements possess a mesmerizing rhythm, like a dancer on a stage, commanding attention with every pivot and feint. despite the noise around you, you find yourself leaning forward, completely engrossed in observing his every move.

unbeknownst to you, beomgyu has been observing you, trying to gauge exactly where your eyes are fixed. a grin appears on his lips when he discovers your gaze directed towards the court.

“that’s yeonjun, choi yeonjun,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at you. you side-eyed him. “i wasn’t asking his name,” you explained.

“yeah, whatever. oh, anyway, he’s just from the other block so you will probably see him around, especially in our department's building,” he added casually, watching for your reaction.

“but i never saw him around…” you replied, your curiosity piqued despite yourself.

bingo! beomgyu thought, noting your subtle interest in yeonjun.

"well, now you did," he said before standing from his seat. "where are you going?" you said, trying to focus on the game while looking at beomgyu.

"you said that the game bores you, right? let’s go! besides, i’ve already got enough shots for the paper," he said, noticing your furrowed eyebrows and dropped shoulders. but before he could say more, you stood up.

"you’re right, let’s go," you said, starting to walk away, leaving beomgyu confused. "i thought she would want to stay until the game ends," he whispered to himself, shaking his head at your unexpected decision, before following you.

the second you saw yeonjun again was in your department building’s lobby. it was a few days after that first game encounter. he was walking with his friend, a tall, blonde figure. yeonjun sported the casual attire of a medicine student heading to class, with his basketball warm-up draped loosely around his neck. you watch intently as he strides towards the elevator, mere feet away from where you stand. your gaze lingers on him, absorbing every detail of his demeanor and appearance, as if etching his features into your memory. the air seems to hum with anticipation as your eyes meet his unexpectedly, sending a jolt through you.

it was only a fleeting moment, but his eyes locked onto yours for what felt like an eternity, a good 13 seconds if you could recall. your heart raced as if it might burst from your chest. in that brief exchange, you felt exposed, as if he could see right through you. now he knows you exist.

the night after, you found yourself giggling uncontrollably, playfully nudging beomgyu as you recounted how yeonjun had looked at you in the lobby.

“what the fuck? you actually counted how long he stared at you?” beomgyu exclaimed, feigning disbelief and disgust.

“do we have overlapping schedules with their block?” you asked, brushing off beomgyu's reaction.

“damn, you're really into him,” he chuckled under his breath. your gaze turned pleading, a look beomgyu knew all too well—an expression that signaled you were about to ask a favor, one that could potentially lead to embarrassment for either of you.

unable to resist your persistence, beomgyu raised his hands in defeat. “fine, fine. i’m close with soobin. i'll ask him about yeonjun,” he conceded reluctantly.

in the days after the basketball game and that brief 13-second eye contact, yeonjun becomes a familiar sight around campus. you spot him often: in the library, flipping through books with focused intensity; at the campus café, laughing with friends over cups of coffee; and even during evening strolls, where you both occasionally pass each other under the soft glow of street lamps. it's as if he's woven himself into the fabric of your daily routine, appearing in unexpected moments that leave you wondering if it's mere chance or something more.

you catch glimpses of him between classes, sometimes pausing near the same notice board or lingering near the art building where he seems to appreciate the sculptures on display. each encounter brings a mix of curiosity and fascination as you observe his interactions with others and the way he effortlessly commands attention without trying.

weeks pass, and you find yourself pondering about yeonjun more often—and whether he notices your coincidental meetings as much as you do. it's a strange sensation, this heightened awareness of someone who was once just another face in the crowd, now seemingly everywhere you look on campus.

when you thought you were content with those small smiles and nods toward each other, you were wrong. one time, you were waiting for beomgyu outside their journalism office. as you stood there, you heard a familiar laugh echoing down the hallway. your heart raced, and you wished the floor would swallow you up as you realized the laugh was drawing nearer. it came to an abrupt halt when the person causing the laughter noticed you standing there.

you could still hear small chuckles when someone patted your shoulder. you slowly turned your head, praying, "please don't be yeonjun, please don't be yeonjun." as you looked up, your heart pounded. standing before you was a tall guy with tousled blonde hair and black glasses, his smile warm and genuine. "hi, you’re beomgyu’s friend, right?" he asked, his voice smooth and friendly. you were left dumbfounded, your mind racing to process the situation. if you weren't mistaken, this was yeonjun’s friend, the one you had heard so much about from beomgyu.

just as you were about to answer him, yeonjun appeared at his side. oh, that eye smile; you swore you could die just from the sight of his genuine smile. he waved at you, and you shyly returned the favor, feeling your cheeks flush.

"oh, is that the camera that beomgyu uses?" yeonjun exclaimed, his eyes widening with excitement as he hopped to stand beside you. your heart skipped a beat at his sudden closeness, his presence both electrifying and overwhelming.

you weren't sure how you managed to answer all his questions about the camera and how it worked. his curiosity was endearing, his eyes sparkling with interest as you explained. each time he leaned in closer to inspect the camera, your heart raced. his fascination with cameras was evident, and you found yourself captivated by his enthusiasm. as he listened intently, nodding and asking follow-up questions, you couldn't help but be drawn to his genuine passion and the way his smile made everything else fade into the background.

"can we use it, or like take a picture now? no, uhh, can i take a picture of you using that?" he asked, his excitement palpable. you didn't utter a word, just nodded in response.

standing there awkwardly, you waited as yeonjun prepared to click the shutter. he stole a glance at you, his voice soft and inviting, "smile for me." the sound of his voice felt like a gentle caress, warming your heart, and you couldn't help but smile genuinely. sensing your reaction, he looked at you again, a faint smile tugging at his lips before he skillfully pressed the shutter.

"see? it came out nice!" he exclaimed, showing you the picture. his talent for photography was evident as he had perfectly captured your sweet smile. "it's pretty, you're pretty," he added, his words delivered with a sincerity that made your heart flutter, as though he hadn't just sent your thoughts spinning in delightful chaos.

just then, yeonjun's presence in your life became more significant. you found yourself either spending lunch with him or walking home together, as your paths aligned perfectly. it was a simple joy, yet it filled you with contentment. you desired nothing more than these moments with yeonjun, even if it was just as friends.

tonight, you are walking with yeonjun under the serene night sky. the moonlight casts a gentle glow on both of you. originally, soobin and beomgyu were supposed to join you, but beomgyu, sensing the need for some space, invited soobin to accompany him to the convenience store.

“aren’t you hungry?” yeonjun asks, breaking the awkward silence between you.

“i’m not, how about you?” you reply. yeonjun seems taken aback by your response; he had silently hoped you would say you were hungry so he could spend more time with you.

“i’m not hungry,” he says with a smile.

“are you sure?” you ask, stopping in your tracks. he nods and, without thinking, takes your hand as you both cross the street. the sensation of butterflies in your stomach feels like an understatement; it’s as if they’re having a jubilant party, all energized by yeonjun’s electric touch.

you let your body fall onto the mattress, a smile still lingering on your lips. you place your hand, the one yeonjun held, near your heart. a thought emerges: is he thinking about it too? is he smiling about it too? does yeonjun feel the same way you do? the smile slowly fades as you consider the possibility of your feelings not being reciprocated.

you are content with having yeonjun by your side, but your heart longs for more than just friendship. a part of you wonders if it might be worth taking a chance. despite the uncertainty, there lies a possibility that he, perhaps, feels the same way too.

you woke up. no, you didn’t even get the chance to sleep peacefully; your mind was clouded with thoughts of yeonjun. lazily, you got up and prepared for campus, dreading the webinar you had to attend and praying you wouldn’t see him today because you looked exactly like a panda.

you sat beside beomgyu, half-listening to the speaker. it had been easy to avoid yeonjun so far; you hadn’t seen him since arriving at the auditorium. your eyes wandered around the room, searching the crowd. just as you were about to give up, your gaze landed on the balcony of the second floor. there he stood, arms crossed and resting on the railing, his eyes fixed on you as if he had been watching for a while, waiting for you to notice him.

you smiled and were about to wave when he winked at you. caught off guard, you quickly looked behind you, checking if the wink was meant for someone else. when you looked back, yeonjun was chuckling, clearly amused by your flustered reaction. feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you turned back toward the stage, trying to focus on the speaker. but your mind kept drifting back to that moment, a flustered smile tugging at your lips. the memory of his wink lingered, making it impossible to concentrate, as your thoughts danced around the possibility of what it might mean.

one night, you lay awake in bed, replaying a memory in your mind: a rainy afternoon where you and yeonjun had taken shelter under a gazebo. you shivered from the cold, and without hesitation, he had draped his jacket over your shoulders, his hands lingering on your arms as he looked at you with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “you always get cold so easily,” he had said, his voice soft and caring. the warmth of his jacket and his gentle touch had made you feel like you were the only person in the world that mattered to him.

another time, during a group study session, he had absentmindedly brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “you look tired,” he had murmured, concern etched on his face. “make sure you get some rest, okay?” his touch had sent shivers down your spine, and the way he looked at you made you wonder if there was something more behind his actions.

and then there were the nights you spent talking until the early hours of the morning, sharing your dreams, fears, and secrets. his presence was a constant comfort, and the way he listened to you, really listened, made you feel seen and understood in a way no one else had ever made you feel.

these memories replayed in your mind as you stood outside the campus café, waiting for yeonjun. you had asked him to meet you, your heart pounding with anticipation and dread. as he approached, his usual smile faltered when he saw the seriousness on your face.

“yeonjun, we need to talk,” you said, your voice trembling with the weight of what you were about to say.

he nodded, his expression concerned. “what’s wrong, y/n?”

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “i need to understand what’s going on between us. all those moments we’ve shared, the way you look at me, the way you touch me… what does it mean to you?”

he blinked, taken aback by your sudden intensity. “what do you mean? we’re friends, y/n. you know that.”

your frustration bubbled over, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. “friends don’t look at each other the way you look at me, yeonjun. friends don’t act like they’re the only ones who matter in the world. you’ve given me so much hope, and it’s tearing me apart not knowing where we stand.”

his eyes widened, and he took a step back, clearly caught off guard by your outburst. “i… i didn’t realize you felt this way. i never meant to hurt you.”

“then what did you mean, yeonjun?” you demanded, your voice rising. “why did you give me your jacket when i was cold? why did you stay up with me all those nights, talking about everything and nothing? why did you make me feel like i was special, like i meant something more to you?”

he looked away, guilt and confusion clouding his features. “i care about you, y/n. i care about you a lot. but there are things in my life that make it complicated. things i can’t control.”

“what things?” you pressed, desperation seeping into your voice. “what could possibly be so complicated that you can’t be honest with me?”

he ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his every movement. “it’s not that simple. there are expectations, responsibilities… things you don’t know about.”

tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, the person who had become so important to you. “then help me understand, yeonjun. because right now, it feels like you’re playing with my feelings, and it’s killing me.”

he sighed, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “i’m sorry, y/n. i never wanted to hurt you. but i don’t think i can give you the answers you’re looking for.”

the finality in his words hit you like a punch to the gut. you had hoped for clarity, for a resolution that would either bring you closer together or allow you to move on. instead, you were left with more questions and a heart full of pain.

“i can’t keep doing this, yeonjun,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “i can’t keep hoping for something that might never happen.”

he reached out as if to touch your hand, but you stepped back, the distance between you feeling like an insurmountable chasm. “i’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice barely audible.

with tears streaming down your face, you turned and walked away, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the empty night. the memories of your time with yeonjun played in your mind like a bittersweet melody, each note a reminder of what could have been.

months had passed since that painful confrontation with yeonjun. the ache in your heart hadn't completely faded, but keeping your distance had become a coping mechanism, a way to slowly detach yourself from what could never be.

you focused on your studies and threw yourself into activities with friends, trying to fill the void left by yeonjun's absence. it wasn't easy. thoughts of him lingered in the quiet moments, in the spaces between laughter and conversation.

one afternoon, you found yourself walking through the campus courtyard, lost in your thoughts. the air was crisp with the promise of autumn, leaves crunching underfoot as students hurried to their next classes. you glanced up, and there he was—yeonjun, standing near the library entrance, his gaze fixed on something in the distance.

your breath caught in your throat. it had been so long since you had seen him up close, since you had allowed yourself to acknowledge the pain he had caused. part of you wanted to turn and walk away, to retreat into the safety of avoidance. but another part, a stubborn part, urged you to confront the lingering emotions once and for all.

as if sensing your presence, yeonjun turned. his eyes met yours, and in that moment, everything unsaid passed between you. there were no words, just the weight of regret and longing etched into your gazes.

you saw it in his eyes—the same regret mirrored in your own. the pain of what could have been, of the misunderstandings and unspoken truths that had driven you apart. for a fleeting second, you both stood there, frozen in time, suspended between what was and what could have been.

but reality intervened. a passing student bumped into you, breaking the spell. yeonjun looked away first, his shoulders slumping imperceptibly. you took a step back, the distance between you suddenly feeling insurmountable once again.

with a heavy heart, you turned and continued on your way, the memory of his eyes haunting you. it was a silent goodbye, a final acknowledgment of the love that had never quite found its voice.

gyo's note: hi! this is my first time posting my work here, a feedback will help me work on my writing more, i've been enjoying the song pleasure delayer these days and i just can't help but write a story about it (and yj happens to suit the way i wanted the male character to be written!) i hope you enjoy reading this, xoxo.

#gyozies space ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡#txt fanfic #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt angst #txt post #txt #txt yeonjun #yeonjun #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun angst #choi yeonjun #choi yeonjun fanfic #choi yeonjun fluff #choi yeonjun angst

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zarnzarn · 30 days

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I GOT A DREAMLING BINGO CARD!!!!!! This one is E4: Uniform fetish. It is explicit.

@dreamlingbingo

"And who might you be searching for?" The waitress says politely, which is when Dream realizes his mistake. It's been at least twelve years since he last saw his lover, time travelling differently at the bottom of the deep sea. He'd come to London as fast as he could, only to be met with hostility and shouting from Hob's old friends for what must have looked like a second abandonment to them, and a complete lack of address as to where his lover had shifted to.

Dream had gone back to the library and tracked Hob down, trying not to snap at Lucienne, and then quickly transported himself to New York.

But his mistake. Was not slowing down enough to read what Hob was calling himself.

"A brunette man, around his thirties," He tries anyway. "Tall, favours brown clothing, warm eyes-"

"Whoa, slow down, loverboy," The waitress says, putting her hands up. "We don't have any men working here."

Dream's brow creases. "What?"

"Yeah, dude, I don't know what to tell you," She shrugs, looking around. "What's his name?"

"I was told he works here," He snaps. He has perhaps spent a tad too long amongst the creatures made to kill at the first movement down in the lonely abyss. "I'm sure of it."

"I-" The waitress sighs, rubbing at her forehead, then suddenly straightens up, eyes wide. "Hang on. Hang the fuck on- REBECCA! REBECCA, COME OUT HERE, THERE'S A GOTH TWINK WHO'S ASKING FOR YOU!"

There's a loud cry from the kitchens and then a flurry of noise- the door crashes open to reveal a host of staff members in various states of disarray, squealing and shouting and-

Rebecca Gadling.

Her eyes widen as soon as she lays her gaze on him, colored amber in the shock of sunset splayed across her face. She grins, and it's like a sun emerging in his chest, with frizzy long hair and tottering on her heels as people from the back shove at her.

Then suddenly, she stops moving towards him and leans back and Dream looks down to see that he has rather spectacularly dropped the large vase of flowers he'd brought Hob between them. Also the chocolates. And the shells. And the now-redundant shopping bags and the limestone sculptures and the silk handkerchiefs.

Hob breaks the stunned silence with a gentle, wet laugh, and Dream looks back up to her, feeling greatly like his entire body is misfunctioning.

"You shifted," He says hoarsely. Because she has- changed shape in a way belying a talented magician- one that's not her lover, the Shaper of Forms, who she surely must have known would have helped her with such a transformation in an instant if she'd so much as hinted to him about it- but Dream's aware enough to know he's on thin ice as is.

"Yeah, I, uh," Hob chuckles, tucking a hair behind her ear shyly, coyness dancing in her eyes as she sidesteps the broken glass and other obstacles to reach him. "You like?"

"Like?" Dream repeats faintly, too busy being overwhelmed as she comes closer. There's a skirt. A short skirt, pleated and the same pink latex as her half-top. Her half-top that is barely holding in her-

The white lace bra that she'd made Dream make for her before he left peeks out the straining bust and he makes a noise.

"Darling," Hob says, sounding like she's barely holding back a laugh as she puts one warm palm on his cheek. The women behind them are tittering and cackling. "My eyes are up here."

"I would be privileged to even have only the back of your knees to stare at until the end of the universe," Dream says, not moving with the gentle pressure so he can keep looking at the breasts enclosed in pink and white. "Let alone the vastness of your eyes, warm and beautiful as fertile earth. But I would like very much to stare at your voluptuous breasts as long as unsocially acceptable, unless you deign to reveal to me more-"

"Right," Hob says, strangled. She turns to look over her shoulder. "I'm not coming back after today. Also get out, all of you, I'm fucking him on the tables."

Hob- Rebecca, was it?- turns back to him as the rest of their audience disappears in a loud burst of noise that he pays no attention to. Hob's hair is long and open, held back on both sides by white ornaments- not good enough, he should get her more- and stretches down to her backside, swaying enticingly.

It looks unbearably tempting against the pink.

"Do you still like having your hair pulled?" He murmurs into her neck, fingers already tangled and tugging as he presses her down into the table. Rebecca gasps, shuddering at the viper-quick movement, legs spreading.

"Hi, Dream. How was the deep sea?" She says hoarsely, laughter in her voice, and he growls.

"Unimportant." He declares, turning his head so he can sink his teeth into her throat. He plays with the ends of the skirt, stroking her thighs. It looks indescribably good on her. "Keep this uniform, after you quit."

Hob laughs again and Dream darts in to kiss her in greeting, before getting distracted once more by the feel of her chest pressing to his. Greedily, he reaches up for a handful, and Rebecca releases a beautiful, quiet whimper into his mouth that might drive Dream slightly insane.

"Pink is my color, isn't it?" Hob preens when she can speak ten minutes later, Dream's shadows spreading her saliva across her chin as they retreat, unable to go for stopping Hob's endless chatter during sex like he usually does, after so long in empty, dark silence.

"It is," Dream breathes, still fucking her like a dog. The lights flicker lovingly above them, summer rainstorm blazing outside as the two of them embrace on a sticky table in an empty cafe. The last stretches of twilight grasp at Hob desperately, bathing her in pinks and oranges, a vision. The skirt is flipped up and the half-top is missing buttons and hanging open limply, giving him full access to the lace torn by his teeth and breathtaking curves of her heavy breasts.

He moans as he looks down at the full picture, so different from the last twelve years of blue and white and black. He thinks rather fondly of the anglerfish dreams he's seen over the past few years, and their mating habits, and thinks he would like nothing more than being permanently attached to Hob until the heat death of the universe.

Hob giggles. "Is this because you missed me or because you like me as a woman?"

"You shifted," Dream whines. Hob cackles at him and he pinches her nipples in admonishment. "If you had shifted into a worm, I would have done so too and still had you like this."

"You are so odd," Hob says, delighted, and nearly takes his feet out from under him with how hard she pulls him down to her lips. "And say the oddest, sweetest things. I love you."

"I love you also." Dream says, palms unmoving on the latex and fingers on Rebecca's warm skin, a very pleasant combination. "Please keep the uniform."

Hob laughs again, and Dream allows himself a wide smile as he pushes himself back up. Even destroyed, it looks fetching on her.

But he's not done with her quite yet.

(They both know he never will be.)

"You know I've had more women than men," Dream says, watching with glee as Hob's smile drops in favour of a flustered blush and a healthy dose of fear as he grins down at her. "Let me show you what I've learned, hm?"

She grins back, fire of a challenge in her eyes as she pushes her chest up. Her skirt brushes against their skin as it falls, Dream hitching Hob's leg higher as he presses closer. "Bring it on."

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling bingo #the start of a uniform f e tish anyways lmao #with a nice dose of fem hob

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garbinge · 1 year

Text

Flower Shop

Richie Jerimovich x F!Reader

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo square: Flower Shop A/N: This is NOT the same reader as my other Richie fics. I've decided to compile those fics into their own multichap because I've gotten some Bear fic ideas outside of that little universe I've created. ALSO, huge shout out to @kind-wolf for this idea!!!! Seriously sparked so much inspiration, thank you x 10000000 I hope you enjoy :) Warnings: Cursing, arguing, light angst, mentions of harassment, and someone being drunk and disorderly.

The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @quixscentsposts @dadbodfanatic-x @adorable-punk-superheroes @lodeddiperrodrick @isalver @captainweasleybarnes @musicwithteeth

“We’re across from that stupid fuckin’ flower shop.” Richie spoke into the phone. “Yes, that one.” He was staring out the window at the shop he mentioned, annoyance growing as he stared out. “No, I don’t know if they’ve got white roses, look, will you just tell me when my meat delivery is gonna be here, I gotta fuckin’ feed people.” Richie had slammed his hand down on the table like the person on the other line could see his frustration. Before the conversion continued, Richie saw movement where he was staring across the street. “I gotta go, just deliver the fuckin’ meat.”

As you stepped outside of your flower shop, dragging to large potted plants to sit alongside the front door, you heard the familiar bell of the shop across the street. At first the noise went unnoticed, the first few weeks it was just part of the Chicago hustle and bustle but two months in, you began to notice it because it usually meant that someone was about to start yelling at you.

“I thought I told you that putting that shit out on the street causes distractions and traffic!” The man yelled out to you.

Right on schedule was the thought in your head as you huffed and stood up to yell back.

“I thought I told you to mind your fuckin’ business, beef boy!” You usually had discourse like this on a daily basis but between the early start you had and the exhaustion from pulling these plants out of the back storage room, you were a little more rowdy today.

“Beef boy?” He scoffed. “Stop blocking the sidewalk, you–you–flower fuck!” He tripped up on what to call you there and it made you smile.

“T-t-t- today, Junior!” You mocked him back.

“Are you making fun of me by quoting Billy fucking Madison?!”

The cars of traffic were moving on the roads in front of you, the audacity they had interrupting your heated discussion. But nonetheless, you weren’t going to let it stop you from going back and forth.

“Why are you such a fuckin’ jagoff?!” You called back out at him.

The comment made the slightest smirk grow on Richie’s face, you were too far to notice it which he was grateful for but hearing the word that he called people so often out of someone else’s mouth was amusing.

“I don’t know, why don’t you look in the mirror and tell me why you’re such a jagoff!” He lifted his hand up and pointed his finger, throwing it at you as he spoke.

“Wow.” You started clapping. “Great comeback, what are we 10? I know you are what am I?” You called out in a immature tone.

“I’m gonna go back inside and work because some of us put our blood sweat and tears into our jobs, while other people sit up on their bouqueted pedestals and fuck over us hard workers!”

You had no idea what he was saying, what he meant by it but that was also a pretty normal and everyday occurrence so you didn’t think twice about it and just yelled out before going back inside your flower shop.

“Go fuck yourself, beef boy!”

These things happened pretty often, not everyday but often enough that your comebacks got funnier, they got more detailed, more pointed, on both sides. When you went out to water the plants on display in front of the store and Richie went out for a smoke break you yelled across at each other. When you both were at the window looking at the rain clouds forming or the rain drops falling, you’d throw middle fingers up and mouth profanities at each other. When you’d stay late and look across the street to see Richie there at the restaurant late, you’d stare at each other, give mean looks and turn the lights off to work in the back offices at your shop.

It was strangely something enjoyable, for both of you. It was a way to get out so much frustration and build up tension that had accrued in the days. It wasn’t healthy, and you knew that but you weren’t exactly looking for the textbook solution to your problems these days.

As you stood outside, past closing time, sweeping up the dead leaves and fallen petals from the day, Richie was out for what was likely his 5th smoke break of the day. It was late, and you both tended to keep it down when curfew hours hit, out of respect for the block, not each other. As you moved along your storefront, you heard a voice that wasn’t familiar.

“Yo, can I please get some flowers, my girl’s mad at me and I need something to bring home.” The voice was slurred, the person sounded drunk. You looked up and saw the person who had stumbled up to your store.

“I can give you a mix of stuff for $10.” You weren’t in the mood to cause problems so you thought this would be a good compromise. A bouquet like that would normally be double so you thought this was the perfect meet in the middle deal.

“Nah, I don’t got any money. Just let me go in and grab something small, no biggie, alright?” The man started to push by and tried to get in the door that you had already locked.

“We’re closed, I can go grab something for you, and you can give me $10 for it, that’s it.” Your voice was firm as you stepped in front of the door.

“C’mon!” The guy whined.

“Alright, new plan. No flowers, and you get the fuck out of here.” There was no whine in your tone, you weren’t playing games which is why the push you gave the guy was more aggressive than your initial block.

While the push worked to get him away from the door, the man didn’t leave.

“Pretty sure she told you to get the fuck out of here.”

That sentence was said by someone else and it made both you and the man turn to look at where the hardened voice was coming from. You saw the man from across the street, now much closer on your side of the street, on your sidewalk. He looked different closer up, you could see the features of his face better, despite it being late at night you could see things that the space hid. The bags under his eyes, the roughness of his stubbled beard, the wrinkles in his forehead and eyes, he was worn, he had been through a lot, you could tell. You also could tell that he had been used to these type of run ins, or you so assumed as you looked at the gun in his hand that wasn’t being threatened yet, but was ready in the case it needed to be.

“But my flowers…” The man stumbled slightly as he spoke.

“They’re her flowers, not yours. Go home, get the fuck out of here.” Richie stepped forward, using his body to show force and slightly raising the gun to let the man know it was there.

And it worked. The man left, drunk and defeated, leaving you and Richie on the sidewalk in front of your shop.

“I had it handled.” The glare you had was still on the man walking away and when he got out of your view, you turned to the person still next to you.

“Most people just say thank you.” He scoffed as he put the gun in his back waistband.

“You have a history of showing up armed and ready to shoot someone?” You raised your eyebrow and leaned on the broom handle.

“No, I just–do you have to argue everything?” He was frustrated.

“I just assumed that was our thing.” Your shoulders shrugged so nonchalantly.

Richie let out a laugh and shook his head as he took a step off the curb and was now standing on the asphalt of the street, slowly making his way back over to the restaurant. “I’d buy yourself a piece, get yourself familiar with it, this block can get hot sometimes.”

“Who says I’m not familiar?” You called out to him with a smirk on your face.

“My mistake.” He lifted his hands up in surrender with a similar smirk to your own before turning around fully to step onto his side of the street.

“Hey, beef boy!” The humor in your voice was being held back by a thin thread as you smiled through your words.

Richie turned around, his hand on the door handle ready to enter back into the restaurant as he stared at you. For the first time ever, you weren’t going to yell profanities at eachother, give rude gestures or annoyed looked. For the first time you smiled at him and truly had no sarcastic attitude in what the next two words out of your mouth would be.

“Thank you!”

#The Bear #The bear fx #the bear fanfiction #the bear fanfic #richie jerimovich #richie fuckin jerimovich #richie jerimovich x f!reader #richie jerimovich x reader #my writing #garbinge

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sh4wty18 · 3 days

Text

girl of your dreams - chapter three.

one. | two. | three.

pairing: hockeyplayer!chris x figureskater!reader

summary: you have trouble picking an outfit for chris's party, but your best friend helps you. then, something unexpected happens that leaves you feeling more confused than ever.

cw: rivals to lovers, angst, first person POV, language, alcohol consumption + being drunk

word count: 1.7k + edited

tags: @joeshiestyslover @chrissbluehat @h3arts4harry @wompwomp-1 @cassluvsturn @cl1tlover3000 (if you want to be tagged, comment!)

dividers from @plutism

---

Y/n's POV

I stood in front of the full body mirror leaning against my bedroom wall. My best friend and roommate Gracie laid on my bed across the room, scrolling on her phone as I panic trying on every possible outfit combination I can think of.

“Ugh!” I grumble, “Nothing’s working. I look like shit!”

Gracie looks up and gives me a goofy smile, “Aww, my darling best friend struggling to pick an outfit for a party was not on my senior year bingo card.” She walks up behind me and wraps her arms around my shoulders, squeezing me tight. “I am so proud of you!”

I hold her arms and continue pouting into the mirror. “Yeah, well, everyone thinks I’m some uptight loser. I’m sick of it.”

“You’re not an uptight loser. Who told you that? I swear to God I will beat a bitch up!” Gracie shouts, letting go of me and pretending to punch the air next to us.

I laugh, looking down at my feet. “No one told me that…”

“I can hear the hesitation in your voice. Spill.”

I feel my face burning up, “Well, Chris kind of implied that I don’t like to have fun.”

“Chris Sturniolo?! The president of ADPhi? The dude you’ve been in a random rivalry with since freshman year?”

“The one and only.” I laugh as images of Chris playing hockey this week flash through my mind. He looked so good. I don’t know how I managed to land any jumps this week when everyday I was mesmerized by him. The way he glided across the ice, weaving the puck in between his teammates and coming to a brisk halt before swinging precisely. He’d hit the puck every time, and almost always score. My breath would catch every time too, and I hated myself for it. We aren’t even friend-ly let alone friends! Besides, he’s still insufferable. I still want to roll my eyes every time he talks to me. He’s still arrogant and smug, and sure, his cockiness can be hot sometimes, but the majority of the time it’s just plain annoying. He’s annoying. Everything about him irks me, and yet. And yet…

“Girl? Hello?” Gracie waves her hand in front of my face and pulls me back from my haze.

“Sorry. I was thinking,” I mumble.

“Yeah, thinking about boning Chris,” she cackles at her own joke, and I playfully swat at her arm.

“Shut up!”

“Y/n, I’ve seen the way you two argue. There’s no way he’s not into you. It’s kind of hot, when you think about it. The sexual tension, the rivalry. It’s like a fanfiction. Enemies to lovers,” she draws out the ‘r’ in the word ‘lovers’ and waves her hands at me.

I shake my head with a laugh, even though I can feel my face flushing again. But she’s wrong. There’s no way he thinks of me that way. He’s the president of his frat and the captain of a D1 hockey team. Everyone loves him. “No, Gracie. He just knows how to annoy me because we’ve had nearly every class together for our majors and are co-presidents of Model UN.”

“Exactly! He lowkey knows you better than everyone. Except me of course! But still, that does not give him the right to say you don’t like fun. You’re just focused. I admire you, and he should too. Asshole.”

I laugh and slap her arm again, “Gracie! …You’re not wrong.”

She snoops in my closet and pulls out a red lacy top, one I bought on a whim this summer. I don’t know why I even bought it. Three full years of university, and I’ve never once been to a party. I guess I was holding out hope for senior year, that maybe this year I’d have the balls to do something like this. Well, I guess my intuition was correct. She hands me the top, “Wear this,” she says. “It’ll look hot, especially with your black jeans.”

I take off the pink cami I have on and slip the red one over my head, adjusting my boobs as I do. She wasn’t wrong, it does look hot. My jeans are low rise, they sit just below my belly button. The top is tight, and hugs my waist perfectly. I’m not going to lie, I’ve never felt more confident.

“Shit.” Gracie says, staring me up and down. “If I was Chris, I’d do you.”

I smile, “This isn’t about him.”

“Girl, you and I both know it is. You can pretend it’s just a rivalry all you want, but I’ve seen the way you look at him. You want him.”

“Shut up.” I giggle, and it’s because I know she’s right.

–

Gracie and I walk up to the ADPhi house around midnight, since Gracie said it’s always better to show up to parties late. I also took a couple shots of cheap vodka with Gracie before we left our apartment, and I could already feel the alcohol hitting. Since I’d only drank a couple times since sophomore year of college, my tolerance is low, so the shots I’d had before we left were already making me feel light and bubbly.

We walked up the front steps to where a couple guys in the frat sat, and they stopped us.

“Who are you with?” one man asked with a serious look on his face.

I couldn’t help but giggle, he was acting like a bouncer at a club. “Um, I’m the captain of the women’s figure skating team. Chris invited us?”

He raises his eyebrow at me, like he doesn’t believe me. “Hang on.” He walks inside the house and I turn to Gracie. We stifle our laughs until the guy comes back out with Chris.

He looks so fucking hot. Sorry. He looks good. His hair is messy and his blue eyes are slightly glazed over, so I know he’s drunk too. His stubble frames his face and draws attention to his angular jawline. Fuck, I want to kiss him.

“Woah, shit. Y/n. I didn’t expect you to actually show up. You look…” He trails off, his eyes tracking up and down my body. “Yeah, come on in, guys.” He smiles and slings an arm lazily over my shoulders. I stiffen, and he lets go. “Sorry,” he says.

“No, it’s okay. I just wasn’t…” He gets called into a crowd of friends, cheering him on to do a keg stand. He saunters to the middle of the room, so confident and cocky, and I know I’m in for it. I want him. Fuck, I really want him.

Gracie leads me to the dance floor and the music is blaring. We start dancing together and to my surprise, I actually like the feeling. Being tipsy with my best friend and just getting to relax on a Friday night, not worrying about med-school stuff or studying or debate prompts for Model UN… it felt good.

After a few songs I look around for Chris, but I can’t find him. I wanted to prove to him that I was having fun, just like he’d said this afternoon at practice. God, he could read me. Gracie grabs my hand and pulls me toward the kitchen, where alcohol bottles litter the linoleum countertops.

“Have another shot with me?” she asks, and I nod. Being here makes me think maybe I was missing out on something all along. Maybe I’ve wasted three years of my life not experiencing my youth, just to keep my grades up. Chris had fun, and his grades were still steller. So why hadn’t I? Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn’t like having fun.

Gracie pours two shots of vodka and hands me one. We click the glasses together before knocking them back, and I wince at the burning sensation in my throat.

As we walk back into the living room, where people are still dancing and doing keg stands I ask Gracie, “You’ve been here before, right? I gotta pee, but I don’t know where the bathroom is.”

“Yeah, just up the stairs and to the right. You can’t miss it,” she replies.

I make my way upstairs and stop outside the first door on the right. I knock a few times, and when no one answers, I walk in.

It isn’t a bathroom, though. It’s a bedroom, and on the bed in front of me, lies a very drunk Chris in bed scrolling on his phone.

“Oh, sorry, I thought this was the bathroom,” I say.

He looks up and smirks, before standing and making his way over to me. “You just can’t stay away from me, can you Y/n?”

I swallow and back up, but he keeps inching closer to me. My back hits the door, which closes behind me. Chris places a hand on the door next to my head and leans in. His face is so close, I can feel the breath passing between us. It's sweet and alcoholic. I kind of like it.

“Hmm?” he hums when I don’t respond, like he’s waiting for a reply.

“I honestly thought this was the bathroom, Chris.” I roll my eyes and scowl at him, even though I want nothing more than to close the gap between us, and shut him up with my mouth.

He reaches out with his free hand and tilts my chin up to face him. “You are such a bitch,” he says with his classic cocky smile.

I return his smug look, the alcohol making me even more prone to attitude than when I am sober, which is saying a lot. “And you’re an asshole. I guess we have more in common than we thought.”

“Shut up,” he says, his thumb and forefinger still holding my chin, and I catch him stealing glances at my lips.

I smile, “Make me.” I reach out and grab the collar of his t-shirt, pulling his face impossibly closer to mine, until our parted lips brush together. I don’t know why I do it. The vodka might be playing a role.

“Fuck,” he whispers. He looks down at my lips one more time before letting go of my chin. “I gotta go,” he moves past me, opening his bedroom door to leave. “Bathroom’s the next door to your right. Pay more attention, Y/n/LN, I coulda’ been rubbing one out.” He winks and offers me one last grin–a real one this time–before walking past me, leaving me standing alone in his doorway as he makes his way back downstairs.

All I can think as I walk into the bathroom is: what the fuck just happened?

---

i love this fic so much. i have ideas!!! lmk what you think :)

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